Part of a series of drawings following characters on a journey through strange and chaotic zones of a gigantic metropolis. I really enjoyed using the Sakura brush pen for this one.
Ice Dream. There’s some strange references going on in this one. If I don’t explain it won’t come together. Back in my day the Europe 72 3 record Dead live album had a crazy kid on the back cover smashing a cone on his head. Later an ice cream truck company called Weaser ripped off that art and would visit my mid Jersey neighborhood daily. Google it if you care. Flash forward to 2019. The ice cream truck that hits my neighborhood EVERY DAYS has a loud obnoxious song and no Greatful Dead connections. It drives me out of my mind so here is the result. I always try to turn my pain into gain. What a long strange explanation it’s been.
There are some things I’m so grateful for in 2018 and then there was a lot of stuff that I would love to go away. So this is my farewell art. There’s nothing random in this doodle but I’ll keep most of it to myself. Let’s hope for a way better 19.
An article/rant/annotation to an illustration. A #Hackney bar and its flies.
This picture is not as sad and blue as it might at first seem, I promise.
It is early in the week and the pub becomes the territory of the most outspoken drinkers. Raised somewhere between Churchill and Harold MacMillan, a night such as this is time for them to spin out a yarn of nostalgic fantasy. Encouraged by the lack of a crowd and with space to fill, statements start to fly.
In the opening rounds the barman athletically hits back with factual blocks and reality-check haymakers; statistics and personal experiences are given. Two histories cross examined, one where 1982 means Thatcher and the Falklands, the other renders Reagan and the AIDS crisis. Stoicism and national pride vs mental health and realism.
In the latter rounds the barman is fatigued, swaying on the backbar, glasses begin to stack up as form begins to drop. The older men seem stronger than ever.
The barflies come in close now, they scrutinise his generations work ethic and make wild political comments on poverty, immigrants and the minimum wage.
The barman is close to sheer bloody despair, he maintains his defence and focuses on breathing while maintaining his professional stance.
But at the end of the night the barman knows HE will ring that bell, they will politely leave and they will return again in a week and maybe, just maybe there will be a change, common ground or maybe at least polite silence.
But what these interactions have given despite the salt in the eye is community and an exchange between generations, culture and class of those participating. No home is ever straight forward, no relative without their good and bad traits and in a world where we often slide into echo chambers online or in our physical environments, the pub is still a place where society is family, face to face, pint to pint. Or maybe it's just a room with alcohol on tap?
This is that black and white doodle from the other day, all colored in! I want to eventually make an adult coloring book, maybe this could be one of the pages? Just a thought!
When your own son calls you anonymous, you probably don’t exist. He likes to be funny on greeting cards. Hahaa! Usually my doodles are a one to two day thing. I continued adding to this one over a period of a couple weeks. Life has been a blur lately. It feels good to be able to post something again.
Just go out from my comfort zone doing some semi-realistic illustration. why lizard? im just love animal especialy reptile and fish. Maybe in the future ill make series of this illustration :D
55 mins
“I Never Noticed The House Was On Fire” This is a painting for an upcoming group exhibition about memories. When I was a kid I grew up in a household where my parents were functioning alcoholics. They gave me toys, put me in front of the tv, and sent me outside to play to keep me distracted from what was going on. When I look back almost all of my childhood memories revolve around these things. I became obsessed with these imaginary worlds and I learned to draw by copying my favorite cartoons and characters from children’s books. It was not until I was much older, that the truth could no longer be hidden from me. The imaginary world of cartoons and books kept me shielded from the harsh realities of home. As I grew into an adult that form of coping grew with me as I created my own imaginary places inspired by the ones I loved as a child. A healthy place to escape.
It's hard to escape emotions. The normal part of life is to be braver when you're depressed. It's like the trapped pigeons. Up in the clouds, longing for freedom.
