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I just got featured on Drawn! the Illustration and cartooning blog. Click this link to read the awesome stuff they had to say! Did you hear that high pitched girlish squeal of excitement?? That was me. Thanks Luc!

Curdled.

I'm out of the office today and putting some realness into creative facilitator's braindumpings.

And the last of the milk was off.

Wook Shirt.

The Coat.

Because sometimes tyrannically ruling the known universe from your glacial palace in a chainmail bikini just isn't enough.

Dear Diary.

While there are many interesting shapes to observe at the beach, being precariously perched on an uncomfortable rock, covered in sunscreen and grit with perspiration running down the pencil doesn't work very well for on the spot sketching.



I also took a bazillion out of focus photos of my thumb, various fish and of the people happily splashing in the water.



And I finally swam with a stingray.

The Bad.

Designing a Big Bad.

Distracted between high calorie television and watermelon dessert, my few attempts at generating a menacing figure leads me to believe that I can't draw overtly "scary". I'm firmly ensconced in "cute", which trumps nasty every time, leaving me with a tendency to resort to staple evil trappings such as glowy eyes and tentacles and chitinous glints.

I have a fairly high squick factor when it comes to other people's open wounds and raw flesh, the sight of a nasty gravel rash will cause a sympathetic skin crawl and involuntary retraction of extremities.*
And I can't imagine that a monster singularly composed of light flesh wounds as being anything other than laughable.



I may have to rethink this approach. More insidious, less histrionics.

*Not to be confused with an inability to stomach movie gore. Zombies, the rotting, disintegrating and putrid undead deserve hugs too.

The Scribe.

We've been bopping along at the gym at a spritely rate recently, only to find out on Sunday that rival chains have forced its closure. That leaves us with Humourless Evangelical Sportbot Gym or Neckless Primping Mirrorhog Gym. I don't relish the thought of starting over and learning the machines in a new environment, but I'm willing to pretend that this change is for the better.

We've another fortnight at Bayswater before total closure and it's already like a ghost town there. Empty protein shakes, tumbleweeds and health bar wrappers all roll past in drifts, punctuating in no uncertain manner that everybody has departed.

I've only known about this for two days and I feel suspiciously like the old man in the shack on the exploding mountain who is last to hear word that there's an evacuation going on.




I've been sketching a lot lately. Lots. I've felt really out of touch with my inner analog illustrator, so I've endeavoured to put aside time each evening for doing some scribbles. The first few nights were disheartening as it felt like the pencil was maliciously working against me and making me draw the wrong thing. We wrestled with each other for sometime until the eraser would come in and break us up and mediate a solution.

I'm hitting a groove now and feel more confident this unfamiliar scribing tool.

We'll Be Right Back After This Commercial Break.