Lightboxed the Trio onto a piece of Bristol and it's probably about as finished (pencil) as its going to get. I just noticed I didn't finish Seths Gun. Looking to do a FMH logo all swolled, pocked and drippy...hence the puddles on the floor. It'll make a decent shirt.
Well, I've been given a pretty good amount of work for week one. A digital image scavenger hunt narrative/imovie project (like a 150 found and manufactured little images)An exploration into a living, relevant sculpture artist, which will turn into a small chipboard sculpture build. A four hour still life drawing, a few little articles and news items to find and share. Not too bad, but time consuming. This is the second FMH pic I've gotten to flesh out. Would like to get to a point where I devote at least one half of a couple of days to FMH. one can dream. Once the momentum starts to churn, I think I can get one page a week done on brothers fole, then hit a page every other day during christmas (nearly a month)
or one every two weeks....sad
Doing a little height comparison picture. The smoking fingers are not cleaver.
So, I had to fly to Papua New Guinea this past week to retrieve a penance from an old advocary who wanted to make good. I found myself in a Hotel Bar in Mt. Hagan when I was presented with what you see here. A drawing of Quinn by Rob Liefeld. I thanked him but asked why he choose to draw him without his goatee. Rob dropped his forehead on the glass top bar and started gently weeping. I was frozen, not knowing what to do. Do I comfort this man, my enemy, do I commiserate his pain thus relieving my own. Can I walk away? While his face was hidden I turned for flight, but just as quickly he had my arm in his hands and I was now privy to stare into the tear streaked soul of this man. I saw him...more than I had ever seen him before. He chocked on his words before the three I could decipher made themselves audible. So many teeth. He collapsed again and I was frozen in shock for a second time this meeting. The bartender caught my attention, his was giving me the international sign for 'this patron has had too much to drink' motioning his loosely clenched fist around his open mouth whilst using his tounge to protrude and massage his left cheek. I nodded and returned my own silent message which no one could misinterpret, I asked the gentleman to 'take Rob out back and shoot him in the head' by rolling invisible dice in front of my belt buckle then pointing outside and miming 'five minutes' by extending the fingers of my left hand and then pointing at my watch. He nodded and boasted suddenly and loudly "Hey, is that BADROCK outside by the pool?" Rob snapped to attention and like lightning was outside accross the veranda and down the granite steps to the foot of the pool. As if in slow motion he looked back at me, he was happy. I met his stare and held it firm as the black bag was lowered over his head and he was whisked away behind a cabana. I turned back and reentered the bar, I has a scotch and allowed myself to breath again. I collected my picture of Quinn, left the hotel and stepped into the taxi I had waiting for me since my arrival. The flight home was long, still.
