Late last night, after spending a few days recovering from my big MA hand in and acquiring the world’s wussiest cold (if colds are jazz, I’ve come down with Kenny G), I realized I hadn’t done any actual work in days. So I gave myself three hours to draw something, and lo, this is what I came up with.

I put a bunch of splotches of dark blue and brown down first, then waited for the splotches to tell me what to do. Same method of creation used for this fella, this guy and these dudes. From now on, I’m letting splotches guide all future decisions. If it something doesn’t pass the splotch test, I don’t do it. And I’m going to be really tyrannical about splotch divination, too. A regular Splotch Test Monster.

Ah, good to be back.

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Remember, you can always find me on Twitter and Facebook!

Would you buy a picturebook about a goat who’s a farmer but desperately wants to be a world famous crooner like his purple tuxedo-wearing hero Frank Snoutra (“The Velvet Hog”)?

Circle one: YES / NO

How To ID: Lesser Williamsburg Warblers*

• Found nursing hangovers amongst city arbors
• Their life ambitions are vague and quixotic
• Their t-shirts and mustaches: all ironic
• Subsists on a diet of warm PBR
• Tries to migrate on fixies (though never gets far)
• Will often fall prey to nasty fauxhawks
• Never chirps, only taps out a tweet that mocks:

*Lesser Williamsburg Warbler’s not its name the world over. It’s known back West as the Great Portland Plover.

How to ID: Existentialist Vultures

• Rarely seen without a volume of Sartre
• Sport black, crooked feathers and matching beret
• Prefer perching in Parisian cafes
• Nihilistically gnaw on carrion-stuffed croissants until nauseously bloated with gristle and angst
• Their gaze: deicidal, and shrouded in smoke
• Their call: a cantankerous death rattle croak:

Let me be first to admit I’m not clear on what exactly is happening here. I believe the tiny pachydermnaut’s rocketpack’s busted. So he’s sought the help of a lady space mechanic to address the issue. But she’s in a panic, not expecting a visit from a mammal that flies (though her job and environs would suggest otherwise).

Bizarre, and poorly composed. Let’s agree: I shouldn’t draw when jetlagged/high on coffee.

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Remember, you can always find me on Twitter!

Two loves I have of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still:
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman colour’d ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
And whether that my angel be turn’d fiend
Suspect I may, but not directly tell;
But being both from me, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another’s hell:
Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

William Shakespeare – Sonnet CXLIV

Or to put it another way.

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Remember, you can always find me on Twitter!

Who’s Euell, you might ask? And why didn’t I add details for his jacket button (forget, just noticed now, sigh)?

Well, Euell is a traveling encyclopedia salesman in the 1960s, and he just been awarded Salesman of the Year Award at the annual Athena Encyclopedia conference in Troy, MI. Now all he needs to do is get back to Ithaca, NY to celebrate with his beloved Penelope. But trouble’s brewing on the journey, and Euell must overcome a variety of obstacles (including his own massive ego) before he can gaze upon his home again. His story is told through postcards sent back home, each from roadside attractions populated by freaks, witches, ghosts and monsters.

Sound familiar?

Anyway, the postcards themselves will be done in Photoshop, but the accompanying illustrations will be in the style above. Instead of ink, I’m using colored pencils to outline the characters. Should look nice! I hope!

As always, thoughts and comments are appreciated. Thanks!

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Remember, you can always find me on Twitter!