... except for when they forget to draw in Ashitaka's nipples.

... except for when they forget to draw in Ashitaka's nipples.

The Suicide Girls models come up with some great aliases for themselves. Two of my faves are “Roach” and “Napalm.” This chick just wasn’t trying that hard, but I can’t blame her for showin’ some homeland pride. However, that name which takes the cake as the best to date (imo) is “Fractal.” Sweet!
I think a really horrible name for a Suicide Girl would be “Botox.”
Okay, so like two years ago I got called upon by the Academy of Art to be one of their Illustration Dept. representatives via these banners they put up on the sides of their 79 New Montgomery building. Here're some photos that Jenn took:


You may notice that beneath my three names (artsy!) and that photo of my swollen, swollen head is an "artist statement" that I drunkedly composed one night, set aside for soberer times, and whittled from like 1,000,000 words down to 150. I wrote:
“I’ll try not to just draw and wait for something to happen. Too often people think that logging hours into a craft is enough to master it, as if skill were a paycheck. Awareness is just as important as time invested – the artist has to be conscious of where his drawings take him, good or bad.
This awareness can be faked to an extent, and even result in financial success. But in its purest form it could be described as love. Love for craft such that the artist treats art as something to fight for instead of a means for self-promotion. Success will come after love by nature, though other people might find it hard to define what exactly that success is.
Sounds pretty naive, right? But still. I don’t think my 50-year-old self would regret that I wrote this.”
I regret the grammar and some of the word choice, but not the cheese. At the end of "Serenity," Malcolm Reynolds says more or less the same thing about flying spaceships (and life - duh), but with much cooler verbage.
You know what's neat, though!? The posters've been taken down since the Academy's fall semester started, but they're up on google streetview! HahahahaHA!
*zzzt*


A quick skim of my past entries and I’m thinking, “boy, I can sure be an eejit sometimes.” But what’s there to do, right? One can only hope that I'll learn to bypass the parts of my brain that’re nuked for good and get better at writin’, drawin’, considerateness, outlook on life and complete-er thoughts.
Use swear words frequently and explicitly. And be inventive in your abuses – don’t just say "stop crying, tithead.” I try something like, “Your bonce is like a swollen breast and your eyes are akin to two lactating nipples."
Wotta genius!



A couple years back, a trip to the East Bay Depot for Creative Reuse yielded Jake a box of 1,000,000,000 thimble-vial thingies, Ultimo another item to his “why do I keep driving these retards around” list (Actually, he liked it.), and me this awesome little find:

I was all like a seasoned forensics guy, except with Novocain running through his fingers, extracting the album’s contents and scanning them. The pages were a little fragile and maybe I was over-zealous with the exacto-knife when one of the plastic coatings got tore-up, but at least none of the pictures were harmed. Apparently, they were developed between 1985 and ’86. Here they are:



Beautiful, right? It’s a vessel, man. I flip through it in my hands and I’m truly transported. If it's yours, I'd give it back. But for now it's mine, so I've put it on... the internets.
















