Sunday, November 11, 2007







I've been hanging out in the woods a lot.

Once again, need new scanner.

Listening to Battles. This sounds like it's from the future. I think they're a bunch of time travelers from an optimistic 2439 ... where subtraction is the new addition and respect is used as currency. Everything's free and someone resembling Jean Luc Picard is prime minister of the Earth League Alliance (or ELA).

Shout out to CF's new book POWR MASTRS. I've been following his zines for a while and this long awaited book is the most intriguing and unique comic I have seen in a long while. He is a solitary voice and an individual power ... in a school of his own, making it Ok to make comics with a pencil. http://www.pictureboxinc.com/product/id/126/

I don't think this guy even owns a computer.

So no excuses for the rest of us, Ok? Follow your fucking dreams.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Pre Thanksgiving art



Hmm ... so if I'm ever going to look legit online I think I'm going to have to plead for a new scanner and a personal photography assistant for Christmas. My scanner, while it was free in the Brown University dumpster, is really meant for sending faxes and printing out term papers. It's not meant for large scale illustrations.

And while 4.0 mega pixels on a camera sounds impressive, it doesn't do too well when attempting to show detail in painting.

But I suppose the important thing is that the artwork is done and is in existence.

I am working on a new comic which will be a series of short stories in a final collection called
"A Town Called Orange". Each issue will have a painted cover that will be color photocopied. The first story is about space exploration in the suburbs. I'm trying to make the Twilight Zone for Kids ... a surrealist's view of suburbs. The next story is about a boy with a talking guitar ... an all night video arcade by the coast ... the champion of Candlepin Bowling ... and feeling abandon and escape while deep sea fishing.

This will probably be the end my comics being set in suburbs. Once they are completed, I think it's time to move on.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Birdwatchers!










Big update!

I had my first fallen through assignment! After over 20 sketches, the client turned them down (first I was too cartoony ... then I was too generic? I am what I am, guess it wasn't good enough). At least they'll always be here in cyberspace. I'm posting some of the best ones ...

On a more positive note, I'm meeting with Geo Vision tomorrow to potentially make comic books on the subject of substance abuse.

I have also made a painting that is the first in a series. It's 18 inches by 22 inches ... acrylic, gouche and oil. You saw it here first on my blog!

Thursday, September 27, 2007

The Devil and Daniel Johnston


Daniel Johnston is irrational, irresponsible and at times violent due to his manic depressive condition. In the course of his life he seriously threatened the lives of three people; his former manager, an elderly woman and his own father. Footage of Johnston in this film contains scenes where he thinks he is a ghost of himself, casually describing demons as real, breaking down in the middle of an identity crisis and preaching to an audience of NYC noise hipsters about the dangers of Satan.
But when Johnston is on stage with a guitar in hand, all one can see and feel is bliss. The fragility of Johnston's off key singing voice is so enduring you can't believe that it is coming form an over-weight chain smoker wearing sweatpants. The lyrics sound as if they could have been from an era far gone; Leadbelly and early Bob Dylan comes to mind. And somehow Johnston can make Casper the Friendly Ghost seem ACTUALLY haunting with his words.
Here in lies the paradox of Johnston's life. Within him is both a saint and the devil. Through the movie he is never interviewed in the present moment, but there really isn't any need for this sense he recorded himself talking through most of his adult life. We can hear primary sources of documentation from him. Everyone else, his parents and siblings, his closest friends, seem to be much closer to the audience. Not only are they being interviewed in the present day, but they're really the only ones you can relate to since Johnston's personality is so unique. It doesn't take long to realize that they are the heroes of the story.
I was particularly impressed with Johnston's parents. Unlike Johnston's many managers or even a few of his closer musical friends, Johnston's parents are only concerned with Johnston's happiness. Their tolerance and acceptance of Johnston is unbelievable.

So when I came to the end of "The Devil and Daniel Johnston", I really wasn't sure what to think. On the one hand, Johnston has inspired an era of singer/songwriters, from Kurt Cobain to Conor Oberst, while still remaining in a league and category of his own. His music will be remembered dozens of years from now the same way we remember Leadbelly.

But on the other hand, how much can one contribute this to Daniel Johnston himself? If it wasn't for the love of his parents and patrons who broke their backs in order for him to simply function, would Johnston have burned out years ago? There are so many close calls in his life. Johnston only survives because there are people who care and can bail him out.

The movie's moral is that in order for an artist to succeed, he needs to be able to function. Johnston can do everything else but function, so a fair amount of his work can be attributed to the people who find him dear.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Charade





Charade

Take two parts Alfred Hitchcock and mix it with one part Wes Anderson. Make sure the plot's multiple genres blend well and you've got Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant in "Charade". What's noteworthy about this movie is always subtle; it's either Hepburn's impeccable taste for clothes, the director's aesthetic decision to concentrate on objects, or Grant's dry and charming humor.
But what is impressive is that the director manages to tell a story one part comedy, one part thriller and one part romance and keeps it feeling natural. The jokes are good, the Hepburn/Cary chemistry is real and the thrills do scare.

I couldn't decide which illustration looked better above, so if anyone had any comments, it would be appreciated.

Friday, August 31, 2007



This is the first drawing in a new promotional flyer zine (see www.tedmcgrath.com for where I got the idea for the booklet layout) entitled "Bond". It will include portraits of three James Bond actors plus a large Bond montage illustration inside.

With this zine I'm also planning on making a 1986 Boston Celtics zine in support of my favorite team who have recently aquired Kevin Garrnett (DYNASTY in 2008?). It will include Celtics of the past (most likely the big three, Bird, Parish and McCale) plus another zine with Pierrce, Garrnett and a third player to be determined.

Art Directors ... you have been warned.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007






In the old days they had been called Mysians,**212 but later their name was changed to its present form. They live in all countries divided from the Roman Empire by the River Ister (Danube). Suddenly they left these districts and emigrated to our side of the river. This movement areas caused by the activities of the Getae, their neighbors, who by their plundering and ravaging compelled them to abandon their own homes and seek new ones. So, at a time when the Ister was frozen over, they crossed as though on dry land [242] and emigrated from the Trans-danubian territories to our province. The whole nation was transported, bag and baggage, over our borders, incapable of living at peace themselves, and bound to spread consternation among their former neighbors. More than other nations they are difficult to fight and hard to subdue. They are neither vigorous of body, nor brave in spirit. They wear no breastplates, put on no greaves, and no helmets protect their heads. They carry no shields of any kind whatsoever, neither the long sort like those traditionally borne by the Argives, nor the round shield, nor do they gird on swords. The only weapon they carry in their hands is the spear, their sole defensive armour. They are not divided up by battalions, and when they go to war they have no strategic plan to guide them. The terms 'vanguard', 'left wing', 'right flank' mean nothing to them. They build no palisades for their own protection, and they are unacquainted with the idea of defensive ditches on the perimeter of their camps. In one mass, close-packed and pell-mell, fortified by sheer desperation, they emit loud war-cries, and so fall upon their adversaries. If they succeed in pushing them back, they dash against them in solid blocks, like towers, pursuing and slaying without mercy. On the other hand, if the opposing force withstands their assault and if their ranks preserve an unbroken line in face of the barbarian onslaught, the latter forthwith turn about and seek safety in flight. But there is no order in their retreat. They scatter in all directions, in small groups. One hurls himself into a river, and either swims to land or is engulfed in its eddies and sinks; another goes of into a thick wood and so becomes invisible to his pursuers; a third escapes in some other way. They all disperse at the same moment, but later, in some strange fashion, they meet again, one coming down from a mountain, another from some ravine, another from a river, all from different hiding-places. When they are thirsty, if they find water, either from springs or in the streams, they at once throw themselves down into it and gulp it up; if there is no water, each man dismounts from his horse, opens its veins with a knife, and drinks the blood. So they quench their thirst by substituting blood for water. After that they cut up the fattest of the horses, set fire to whatever wood they find ready to hand, and having slightly warmed the chopped limbs of the horse there on the spot, they gorge themselves on the meat, blood and all. The refreshment over, they hurry [243] back to their Primitive huts and lurk, like snakes, in the deep gullies and precipitous cliffs which serve as their walls. Taken in the mass, this is a nation to be feared, and a treacherous one. Treaties of friendship exercise no restraining influence over these barbarians, and even oaths sworn over their sacrifices are not respected, for they reverence no deity at all, not to speak of God. To them all things are the result of chance, and death they believe to be the end of everything. For these reasons they make peace with great alacrity and then, when they find it necessary to resort to war, they at once violate the terms of their treaty. If you conquer them in war, they invoke a second treaty of friendship; if it is they who win the combat, they massacre some of their captives and hold a magnificent sale of the rest. For the rich prisoners they fix the price high, and if they fail to get ransom, they kill them.