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Archive for March, 2010

Imagine a looping lightsaber sound effect, and I think we’ve got it.

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Dave Grohl needs coffee STAT!

Knowledge Drop:

stat may mean:

  • Stat, an abbreviation of the Latin statim, “immediately”, often used in medical contexts

Yeah! You take your Knowledge, Tommy, or no desert for you!

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Good Lord:

I think Tolliver needs some ice cream after that; I know I would. Brutal.

Mmmm. Ice cream.

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Sneaky Gays- Swish It Up:

“Adam Lambert: You’re on the right path, but still too subtle.” That is true. I’m not really sure where Adam Lambert is coming from. With the football shoulder pads and feathers, he does look like he’s about to take the field and drive 70 yards, Adrian Peterson-style, at a moment’s notice. Oh no! What’s he doing? Forcibly kissing a guy? I think I’m supposed to be offended by how much he got in my face about that. Yawn.

I was lucky enough to meet Jane Lynch at a Hollywood premiere a couple years ago (don’t even ask how I snuck into that). I was sauced. She was incredibly nice and personable, much more so than I would’ve been had some drunk idiot been yammering my ear off.

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Finished another page section. It’s getting detail-y-er.

It is almost impossible to describe how difficult it is to sit down and draw these daily, but I’m doing my best. A actor/writer friend suggested Steven Pressfield‘s book, The War of Art (which I cannot suggest enough for everyone), and it describes and names the process of Resistance- basically, that insidious little bastard that keeps you from working on your goals. The book is an invaluable weapon in the daily battle. I’ll write more on it soon, but for now, back to the Lab again.

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Finished the second section of Page 9.

“Will and imagination, tied, the keys to all success provide

Silver and gold, together bound, bring daydreams down to solid ground.”

-Mike and Mack the Snakes, Promethea, Issue 12, by Alan Moore

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Here’s a quick ballpoint pen ‘n Sharpie study of pin-up artist extraordinaire Rolf Armstrong.

Some examples of Armstrong’s stunning work can be found by just doing a Google Image Search.

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Eat it, New York and Boston. Eat your own Tears of Unfathomable Sadness.

With a No-Trade clause, son.

Sorry. Couldn’t resist. Also,  The Onion chimes in.

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Ben Folds did a little ode to Merton, The Chat Roulette Guy the other night in Charlotte. I think Merton is the most immediate, apt and artistic response to Chat Roulette, really, which has a bit of Web 1.0 vibe to it- a little dangerous, a little anonymous, random little rabbit holes that you can fall down, yet hopefully don’t end up seeing tons of dude’s junk. The idea of Chat Roulette is both exhilarating and terrifying- like a high-tech combination of visual pen-pals who might turn out to be creepy flashers in the park at a moment’s notice. Not my thing, but hey, whatever pops your kernel.

I do, however, find it fascinating, funny, and touching that Ben Folds is commenting on a guy who basically was doing Ben’s schtick- sort of like an uber-meta comment on a comment. Pop culture is eating itself in a magnificent way- a multicolored, high-bandwith snake eating its own tail daily. It seems to me Ben is both endorsing Merton and elevating him- “Good on ya, man. You hit me with that.”

It reminds me of David Cross doing a cover of the Bank of America Guys doing U2’s “One” as a “convention entertainment” and a grossly inappropriate appropriation of a song (in my view) that’s pretty damn beautiful. Obviously, the Bank Guys were oblivious that what they were doing was disgusting, beyond trite, and just remarkably and staggeringly bad. Cross knew this, and didn’t actually have to parody it; he just did it straight. There was no way to spoof that which is unspoofable- you just let ‘er rip as is, man.

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Stumbled upon this the other day, whilst hunting for reference photos. Daniel m. Davis’ really beautiful web comic, Monster Commute. The man’s work with illustrator is sublime and his color sense is impeccable. I’ve only gone through a number of panels, but each page is just a joy to behold. His work is just remarkable- a little J. Otto Siebold, a little Mignola, a little lowbrow, all fun and original.

Besides Monster Commute, Daniel also illustrates a staggering amount of things on his website, Steamcrow. It’s all beautiful, and all serving to squeeze envy into my hollow shell like cake-frosting. Back to work.

(Image Copyright Daniel m. Davis- No copyright infringement intended. Please visit his site and buy tons and tons of stuff.)

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Had two separate friends send me videos of two bands I hadn’t heard of (which mostly likely everyone else has)- We Were Promised Jetpacks and Mumford & Sons (brilliant, brilliant names, by the way). The songs that slayed me, It’s Thunder and It’s Lightning, and The Cave are pretty great, along with the nice little understated video for The Cave. Then I saw Little Lion Man, and I think that’s my new favorite. That vicious lil’ mother chugs along like pint-sized freight train- if you’re standing on the tracks, you’re gonna get knee-capped by that opening verse strum, only to get hugged by that epic, grand bridge. That’s a song. Jeez.

Who am I to say, but I think Johnny Cash would’ve been proud of that song. Stunning work.

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Finally posted the latest couple of Kenwoode pages. You can check ’em out here and here.

“Finished, it’s finished, nearly finished, it must be nearly finished Grain upon grain, one by one, and one day, suddenly, there’s a heap, a little heap, the impossible heap.” – Samuel Beckett, Endgame

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Meanwhile, In Russia…

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I don’t follow college ball, mostly because I went to art school, and I don’t have an alma mater team, unless there’s a World Champion Thunderdome of Chiaroscuro or Font Kerning of which I am unaware, where you’re allowed to use a color wheel, linseed oil and a mace. (The Color-arnage!) I do, however, follow the NBA like a sterilizing rash I need to keep an eye on, lest it flare up and destroy my swimmers.

My team, the T-Wolves, is, well, agonizingly bad despite a potentially encouraging future (possible Ricky Rubio, 217 draft picks this year, Kevin Love, and an improving Corey Brewer.). And despite the fact that David Stern is, well, a wretched person (2007 Suns-Spurs debacle; the New York Ewing crapfest; the 2006 NBA Finals screw-job against Dallas- and I hate Dallas, but they were HOSED by the officials. Don’t believe me? Do a Google search for “2006 NBA Finals.” What’s the 2nd and third choices? Smoke there’s fire, son), I keep getting drawn in like a tubby kid passing Cold Stone Creamery.

I also always check out Canis Hoopus (weird, unhealthy Darko-mania indeed), the T-Wolves fan blog that has like, 20 guys on it that are either basketball savants, or they work in mind-numbingly boring jobs in Minneapolis skyways and have nothing better to do than run complicated algorithms on Evan Turner vs. John Wall. Most likely a combination of the two. Not that I’m complaining- I love the site. Makes me feel like I’m still ice-fishing instead of cursing a blue-streak at L.A. drivers. But it can be discouraging: “Yeah, I follow ball a bit.” No, you don’t, dood. Not like these guys do.

The point is this: because of the Hoopus guys salivating over the chance that the Wolves get the number one pick (we won’t- we’re McHaled- the new synonym for “doomed”) and running the numbers on Ohio State’s Evan Tuner, I was introduced to one Mark Titus, Pine-Rider Extraordinaire.

Check the style, one-time:

(Warrant song is great, but it could use a “Heaven Isn’t Too Far Away” third chorus key-change to elevate it to Code Awesome.)

Mark’s blog ‘n charity here. Buy a t-shirt. Help some kids, dammit.

KENWOODE UPDATE: Been quite the slug in 2010, I know. Just moved, had some freelance illustration to finish, and I’m finally settling down. I really do have finished pages to post, so I’ll be doing that this weekend. Promise. (Takes shot of tequila)

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Abso-mfing-remarkable:

I fear they’ve innovated themselves into a corner. I mean, how the hell are they gonna top that?

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