Apologies! This was meant to post yesterday— the danger of three day weekends; one forgets what day it is.
Anyway, I love this drawing! It’s an illustration that I did (in ink) as a full page for a magazine layout project back in the day. It’s my friends Kelley, Thomas, and Sean (but they were in the cafeteria at Pratt, not a cafe).
A number of years ago I published a limited edition of a book of drawings entitled A Collection of Surmised Grotesques. It was a project that grew out of my sketchbook drawings; some were loosely based on observations, though many were invented out of whole cloth. Each page featured an individual, and a line or two about personality, or something he or she was thinking.
The two pages above, from a very old sketchbook, reminded me of those. Also, it’s something I’ve been contemplating revisiting, as it’s awfully fun.
Some scans from an old sketchbook— whimsy with art markers. (Always with the forks) This one is a drawing of a table i inherited from my grandparents’ house. I stripped the top surfaces and painted a black and white harlequin pattern which nicely offset the brown veneer and brass-tipped legs. I had to leave it behind when I moved back to NYC in 1998, and my brother took it on. See photographic evidence below.
The stereopticon (and lots of 3D images for it) was also from my grandparents.
And another table drawing. This began as merely a metal frame, found on the sidewalk in Manhattan. I used plywood and a jigsaw to create the two trapezoidal surfaces, then painstakingly silhouetted many, many images from old 1950s LIFE magazines with an x-acto knife, and finished the thing with resin. Here is a photo (contemporary) of said table. As you can see, the colors have faded and resin has yellowed.When it was new, the colors in the ads were all *bright* as was the white of the pages. I foolishly haven’t any photographic evidence from its inception, but its mellower look fits in nicely with my less eclectic, more Victorian-slanted current sense of decor.
I’ve been thinking about painting a patterned accent wall in the work-lounge (living room) of my apartment, so I’ve been looking through pictures of what I’ve done in other places.
One thought is to create pattern similar to the leaves on that Marimekko curtain, and paint it on the wall behind the Queen Anne. Not in white, but in a shade just a bit lighter than the wall color, or in varying degrees of lightness to mimic sunlight filtered through leaves. Subtle.
Another idea: cast shadows of the palm plant with a bright light, trace them with a chalk pencil, then paint them just a shade darker than the wall. I don’t know; I’m just thinking out loud. I may rather repaint my kitchen first.
Last summer I posted a tease of the two illustrations above, as they were in progress. These were two of a series of ten illustrations I was commissioned to create for the Cocktail Guide to the Galaxy, a recipe book written by R.A. Heidel (also the proprietor of The Way Station, famous for its Tardis).
The book will be published by MacMillan, to be forthcoming in the autumn of this year here in the States. It will have 40+ illustrations, crafted by four of us in total. I’ll post news of this as I receive it.
Process notes and more illustrations after the jump…
But first a note re: this blog— This year I will be regularly posting every Monday and Thursday. There may be random posts on other days as well, but Mon and Thur will be regular like clockwork (barring unforeseen events).
While upstate over the holiday, I did some excavating and archiving of old art* and other things when I could find time. Often late at night, when the house was quiet. The first night followed time spent watching old super 8 home movies from childhood. A natural progression, and something I’d planned to do this trip.
When I was in college my friends and I didn’t have our own phones, so we’d put sheets of paper on our doors for people to leave notes on. Inevitably some of them became elaborate volleys back-and-forth; sometimes we made random shit just for fun, or to say Hi to stick on each other’s doors. We also wrote letters through the mail during summers apart because: 1. The cost of “long distance” calls added up quickly, 2. We were all about visuals (what would delight and impress?), and 3. The letters were things made just for you, delivered right to your mailbox.One thing that physical (analog) v. digital (instant) media has thrown into relief: When you know the recipient will not get your letter for days, and it’s already been days or more since they wrote you, you think about what will still be relevant by the time they read it. This tends to eliminate a majority of small talk.
What I mean is you tend to write about what’s important.