For the good citizens of Queens, a new edition of prints! These will be available as prints at Lockwood Shop in Queens within a couple weeks! Possibly the alternate as well— the borough of dreams edition… (after the jump)
I’ve just walked up the hill from Prospect station and that wind is a vicious bitch from the part of hell that’s just a cold emptiness. It’s carrying a cheerless snow that gathers in shallow pockets which suddenly wisp away, or at you— spineless little hell ghosts slithering the sidewalk on ice-dry bellies. I think we are all weary of the micro ice age that is this winter.
I was in the ‘hatters* for the eye doctor and currently have contact lenses in my eyes for the first time. They are surprisingly comfortable, easy to forget about physically. But these have a variable prescription (far away and close-to) so that as I was reading on the train I had to frequently adjust my eye muscles or the angle of the book to get the right focus. I imagine it’s a trick that one gets good at in short order and after a few weeks or so it’s like it was always part of you. I certainly hope so, for the sake of my art, my work, reading, and the warm months filled with cycling and beaching and all the many pursuits of summer wherein glasses would be a trial, or simply in the way because sunglasses are the things you want on your eyes, if anything.
Anyway, it’s a miraculous thing. Not quite as miraculous as Lasik™, but maybe that’ll happen at some point. The cool thing is I’ve been able to focus on all the things since I left— without glasses. Not new, but new to me and it’s SUPER.
Sneaky peek update. Colors are happening; atmosphere. It’s fun. I love it when work is enjoyable, satisfying; when I feel like I’m doing good work.
Edited to Add: sneaky peek at (a slice of) the final.
Complete with cheerful bistro lights and voyeur-tempting glows from apartment windows. Full artwork to be released in May on electrofork.
Here is a sneaky peek at an illustration I’m working on for a client. It’s depicting a street in Gowanus, although modified. There is likely a bit more drawing to do, but I like the skeletal look of it in outlines. The final product will be colorized and have some shading, transparencies— a nighttime scene, or dusk. The magic hour. I can’t wait to add the lighting. This shit is gonna be fun.
Book Club followed up Goon Squad with How Should A Person Be? by Sheila Heti. I’m going to skip the majority of our collective critique points from Saturday and keep it short: it reads as a collection of personal essays or do-dads (a blog) written by a person in her twenties, with a few toothless fictions thrown in. Basically, you can read as much or as little as pleases you, then simply skip to the last couple of lines—
“‘Then Jon said, in his sweetly caustic drawl, “I don’t think they even know the rules. I think they’re just slamming the ball around.’
And so they were.”
Boom, there’s your thesis. It’s ‘clever’, but altogether too easy an out for a book, particularly one written by a grown-ass woman in her mid-thirties. I’ve no issue with reading a blog that simply slams the ball around, but if you’re gonna print it and bind it in boards, that shit should at least try to have an arc or a point. Disjointed memoir pages with a few glittering bits ’n bobs do not a ‘novel’ make.
Another Dan McCarthy piece, ‘The Winter’
Trudging through heavy snow on a blue-wet winter evening; there’s a waltz in my ears and I can’t remember what summer tastes like. The wind stings but it’s not as bad as it sounded from indoors, where the gusts skirted the aluminum sashes and made veiled threats. There’s something satisfying about being out in real winter weather, when the sidewalks are almost empty and there’s a kind of unspoken camaraderie with those few you encounter; some inkling of adventure or fearlessness, despite you’re only running a few errands in the neighborhood and not, for example, hiking through woods or skiing a mountain.
ceiling of a coffeeshop in the Jordaan, Amsterdam
“To finish the moment, to find the journey’s end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson, Experience, from Essays: Second Series
Here is a holiday which, more than most, seems to engender feelings of ambivalence (in the definitive ‘love-hate’ sense, not the oft-misused ‘indifferent’ sense). Everything is a convention of some sort or other; life remains insoluble. That’s a good thing. Shrug off contrivances— live deliberately or with abandon or both, but live wisely, live well. Happy Friday!
For any Brooklynites out there who feel an occasional pang of disdain toward that slender, sometimes tiresome island across the river, this one‘s for you; it’s a gicleé print on 8″ x 10″— ready to go into a frame immediately. I’ve also reprised my darling, dear, disaffected Mythologicals series from 2005 into 8″ x 10″ prints, and they are for sale on Etsy now. Go buy some art!
Another wintry evening spent with J, A, and the chickens. We made turkey pot pies from scratch and did loads of blind contour drawings, of one another and of things around the room, finishing them with watercolor. Above is one of J, looking rather exploded. More after the jump.
The continued accumulation of snow and cold gives an indication why Imbolc is one of the Celtic fire festivals. Ostensibly marking the annual alteration of the Goddess from the crone back into the maiden, this year she seems to’ve returned in the form of the Snow Queen instead. Had a lovely walk through Prospect Park after dark amid the winter wonderland that NYC has become these past few days. Pretty magical, the empty park, snow covered— looked like a fantastical set of a movie. None of the photographs I captured really do it any justice, so that’s one from daytime, a school playground.
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In other news, I’ve seen a couple of the awards season favorites in the movie world in recent weeks; American Hustle and The Wolf of Wall Street. Although the latter was definitely more engaging, I found them both to be rather bloated and meandering, suffering from the common Hollywood movie trait of taking themselves too seriously. Both movies were longer than necessary, and seemed to all but forget what they were on about, getting lost in sidewinding pockets of time period minutiae or style-over-substance, before finally, finally getting on with the story and mercifully coming to their rather unceremonious ends.