Muddy h2o: My Home Is In The Delta Quadrant

Français mal, talked ici

So Elizabeth has returned from Paris. She really enjoyed her trip. Despite my warnings, she risked the wrath of the French by attempting their language on their home soil. She's on the phone presently with her mother, lauding the French , Paris and her sister, Laura whom she travelled with. Wow, she really loved this trip!
Enough of that...here's some art. Bon Appetit.

..Oh, this is some sort of Oceanic thing...Sea Sprites, if you will.
h.e.

OW! My Chops! Which you are busting, like a hitting person, on me...

More mf's gettin' toe up. Including ME; I have to say that I was out of order in an earlier blog by not crediting Raf Nieves for the story/concept for which I drew this art. The pitch, "Tank"...well, tanked; that sci-fi stigma I mentioned earlier. But it's a kick-ass story as only Raf can do! Thanks, for checkin' my shit, brah. Raf and I are presently working on another project that is sure to get high marks. Go to Raf's blog to see if he talks about it because I won't here (yet) because "all I know is Vertigo...". But it's gonna kick-ass, trust me.
h.e.

...Back to our regularly scheduled program:Manchuria,1938

Something else dredged up..no, actually this is pretty near the front right burner; more sample art from a proposal. I need to either clone myself or build a time machine...so much to do.
h.e.

Interlude

If you've checked out the links in my sidebar, you've noticed that I'm a fan of Trish Mulvihills' blog. Go there. It's got great content; a lot of photos Trish has taken in Ireland and Paris and just around her hometown, NYC. Actually, her blog is the document that made me aware of blogger.com. For those of you who don't know, Trish is another creative contributor for Vertigo, a respected and talented industry veteran whose work is seen in many titles, in particular, "100 Bullets". I've only met her once, and she's a sweetheart. Anyway her blog has great samples of art and interesting people and images and events and places and friends having fun...I wish her blog was a television show. Her blog is everything my blog isn't...Which I feel a bit self-conscious about. Seems that in Hilarity Ensues there's nothing but a lot of shit gettin' tore/blown up.
So here's a cute kitten...

h.e.

What's REALLY on my mind?....

So if someone had ever actually asked me,"Have you ever designed a grenade launcher?" I would have to think long and hard about it. Then I would still have not remembered this loverly hand prop. I did it during my game designer foray with Chewy Software. I'd rub out, er...pound out, uh...I'd draw me up some bad-ass sketchies all fast-like...20,40,70% grey marker renderings real loose-like. Then tighten the line-work with black. Simple as Pi. I'd generate a couple dozen of these over the course of a day and hand them right over the monitors of the 3D modellers. I'd give some art direction and boom; one 3D modelled 'nader.

This puppy was modelled by Shane Duncan. It was his idea to give it the Orkish flav.
h.e.

KaBOOOM!!!

Last summer (I'm rifling through old files now that I'm actively blogging, again), anyway, last summer I just happen to be looking out over Old Town, to the west. I catch a flash out of the corner of my eye; see a flaming mushroom cloud shooting up somewhere just east of Halsted Avenue; then hear the explosion (physics rocks). I'm sure it was a roofdeck propane tank that blew. Hopefully no one was hurt. I grabbed my camera and took this shot thinking all the while about Glen A. Larsen. The cloud is about 400 ft high at this point. If you click on this image and look right at the base of the smoke column, you can see the fire started by the blast among the trees. The firestation is in plain sight from the balcony, so I watched and waited for the sirens and the trucks to appear. The firehouse is about two blocks east of the blast, towards the spot where I took this shot and along that street that runs towards the railing of the balcony. But when I saw the emegency vehicles pull out of the station, they headed East (in my direction)! Not West! They eventually got it right. A couple of days later I walked past the station on my way to work. I stopped and asked what had blown up on Tuesday, but the fireman told me that it was a different crew on duty that day...
h.e.

War of the Worlds

Look, there's this thing out there...the Germans have a word for it; Gestaltd. If it gets ahold of your ass you'd better move because it's very, very likely that it has had a few other asses in it's crafty Teutonic clutches. Basically, in terms that relate to this blogger and his profession, gestalt (there's no "d", I just looked it up) means that if you have a kick-ass idea, it's very likely that there's 2 to the power of 10 other people who have the same idea. A few years ago I had the privilege of having Gary Gianni drop by my studio.
He had in tow a photographer named Greg Preston who was taking images of artists, comicbook artists, in their studios for a book he wanted to publish (a bit anthropological, don't you think?). While Gary was a the studio I showed him some of the pages you see here. I confided in him as he had, some while ago, tackled an adaptation of Verne's "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea". What I showed to him were the first stabs at my adaptation of Herbert George Wells' "War of the Worlds".
The closest Perihelion Opposition of Mars on record was going to occur in the next couple of years and I'd thought this a great time for a new adaptation. Well of course the Martian Opposition came and went but I still kept plugging away at the project, glad to have something that kept me busy creatively. Then what happens? I happen to catch an impromptu interview with Tom Cruise where he quickly mentions a project that he and Spielberg are wrapping up (at this point the month is the April prior to the films release). Yes, I get depressed. I shelve the project and don't follow ANY of the buzz on the film (as is my m.o. for films I really want to see). I go see the film the day it opens... Thank GOD it sucked ass! I get on my knees each day and thank Him. I'm not going to get into a detailed post-mortem of the film, but the Warshowski (?) Brothers spoke the truth when saying that "film is a medium of compromises." I think that Spielberg missed the tone and scope of the original story by constricting an already myopic (which works) narrative experience (ow...) by hamstringing the film with 9/11 addled sentiments (the grey ash that people turned into when "vaporized" by the heatray).
I walked out of the theater relieved that the "blockbuster" was so far off the mark. If I remember correctly, Wells wrote the book as a critical work, openly critical of the practice of colonialism; something the British know a little bit about. Plus there's some very telling commentary in the original work about humanities strident advance across the threshold of the 20th century and what we were choosing to carry over into the new century and what we were eager to discard to the past. The glossed over technological "hoodoo" that the film displayed was laughable; that the Martian Fighting Machines had ALWAYS been here, that they were simply buried awaiting the pilots, for eons? Snort,...come on! I suppose every geological survey ever conducted happened to "miss" a large mass of non-terrestrial technology swaddled in an Allegheny ore deposit or nestled against a granite shelf. I laughed out loud.
At any rate, I'm fairly secure in the knowledge that the latest film adaptation and my attempt at an adaption of "The War of the Worlds" will remain two wholly independent and vastly differing efforts in storytelling. Toot-toot! (that's my horn!) .
The art you're seeing here is taken from the "shank" of the story I was (am) planning. That's an old McDonalds that I actually used to spend a lot of time in when I was a teen chasing skirt back on East 87th Street. I was a bit chagrined, when I went back there after lovingly paying homage to the franchise on these pages, to find that that particular shop had been torn down and rebuilt. Damn, Martians.
h.e.

Bursting at the Links

I so want to load art from Jack of Fables; but the book is not out until sometime in the late Spring, early Summer. I'm nearing the end of the first 5 issue story arc, and there are some really, really awesome things that occur; my hat goes off to Bill Willingham and Matt Sturges, the writers of Jack. They keep me on my toes and hopefully they feel confident in my abilities as an artist in bringing "it" to the page. I do have to say that I've discovered my first true pet peeve thanks to these two; chain-link fences. You'll see what I'm talking about when the series starts. Essentially, it's an obstacle (no pun intended). At a long distance, in a drawn scene, the link detail of a fence can be overlooked; maybe a small, deliberately spotted cross-hatch can suffice in communicating the detail of the interwoven mesh. But at a medium to close distance, this mesh becomes an interfering pattern, that MUST be executed pretty exactly in order not to look like caa-caa (that's shit). Plus the incidence/interval of intersecting lines cause horrible "noise" and nearly obliterates any drawing (Lord forbid there's characters emoting on the far side of the fenceline as I have had) that the link pattern has to appear over. As you'll see (eventually) I have no problem drawing the details of the fence when the link are in the extreme foreground; the POV of the "camera" allowing the reader a clear view of the subject, unobscured and nicely framed by the diamond-shaped opening in the fence. So my solution is to simply ignore the goddamned links, except in the extreme close-up. It will be one of those peculiar aspects of my art; like Romita giving every other woman he draws on every tenth page of a Marvel comic three ears. Look at it this ways,yo...what I leave out in fencing, I give so much more in earrage.
Above is a photo of a lad from last years Chicago Convention. I was thrilled to see an attendee dressed as a character from "FABLES". He's Flycatcher, aka the Frog Prince. I sent this along to Shelly at Vertigo and she may use it down the line.
I'm hoping that someone takes a cue from Jack of Fables and dresses as a "Bagman". I can't tell you what that is because it would be hard to kill you from here, just using this blog.
Well, I have to get this day going, f'real-like; comics to draw, y'know.


...evil and madness await. Evil and madness.
h.e.

Here's something fairly recent...

This is a sample from a pitch that has landed in comicbook limbo. For some reason the term "science-fiction" has become a red flag in the business. I can't recall just now what the operative terrm is. I have some more sketches from this same project I'll upload over the next couple of days. These images and any other content here isn't too sensitive, but is considered copyrighted. If you feel the need to swipe anything, just don't make any money from my designs, or at least acknowlege my contribution. Or I will show up on your doorstep and commence to stomping your punk ass.
hilarity ensues

Zapp will save us, won't he?

Here's the man to stand up to the Cylons. Wasn't it DOOP Commander Zapp Brannigan who, when facing death by "Shnu-shnu" at the hands and thighs of sex-starved Amazonians, boldly declared, "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised...".

Richard Greico? Naw, man.

That's former Vice-President Baltar of the Galactica Colonies (sheesh!). He won the election and ordered the settlement of a crappy little planet by the population of the fleet. Of course the Cylons found the planet...We'll have to wait til next season to find out what happens. Sigh. Best show on television.
Here's another old sketch (I'm working my way up to current stuff, don't worry). But doesn't this put you in the mind of Bungies' "Oni". Well, it was done some years before the game. She's a pilot of some sort that's just walked away from a bad landing. The radial lines behind her were going to be the rotary wings of her helo.
Tony, Juan...thanks for checking out the blog. Spread the word!
h.e.

I knew he'd BONE us!

...and HOW did I know exactly?
Well, for one thing he's Cylon-whipped; secondly...
He did everything EXACTLY the way I would have done it.
Saw the writing on the wall...the writing on the wall.
h.e.

Good dreams!!!

It's a conventional belief that dreams are a window into our state of mind. I've always had and enjoyed my dreamlife; at times more than my waking life. Usually when I dream there's a not a general "theme" or order (though I do have recurring dreams or locations in dreams, there are even people who have recurring "roles"). There is a general "color" or mood to my dreams depending on what's happening in my nondreaming life. The underpinning for most of the experiences while I'm asleep is anxiety. Big whoop. But I process this in stride. What knocks me for a loop are GOOD DREAMS! For instance; I've recently finished a torturous two weeks locked away in a Lincoln Park condo laboring over the last half of JoF#5. I finish the bastard, send it off to Vertigo and that night had the best dream I've had in a while. It involved me going to the bank and depositing a check for 70,000 dollars and dealing with my flaky girlfriend, Milla Jovovich. Not bad. She wouldn't come home; some neurosis about being in a stable, loving relationship! OK, I'm cool, baby...but you told me you'd be here today, yo. Heh. As enjoyable as all this was (and unexpected), there was a cameo made by a very familiar feature from the Tony Akins prop department; the Bridge. When dreams dovetail with waking life in that "freaky" way that they do, you take in stride, no? That's life. But when my dreams, say, dovetail with the vision of some director of a film, it rattles me just a little bit. I feel exposed.
The "bridge", for as long as I can recall, has always been a feature that presents itself as the only means of getting over a water obstacle (duh) in my dreams. But the bridge always, always reveals itself (once on it, halfway across) as a skeletal structure; having no roadway or flooring. So it must be negotiated like a big rusty jungle gym. Hooray!!!
Well, I went to see this great film some years back; Japanese; "Cold Fever"; there was a bridge; it was "my" bridge. Sitting in the theatre I broke into a cold sweat. It was simply strange to see something that I had experienced on such a private level as someone elses device to convey a story. I had never considered the broader symbological (?) uses for a skeletal bridge.
One of my favorite writers, Michael Chabon (I've met him, you know)...wrote something that I find wonderful and reassuring whenever I am "confronted" with those waking "bridge" moments. It's in his book "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay", the book that brought me back to comics. Chapter 12, Page 256, 1st Paragraph. Read it. Marvel.
h.e.

I Hate You ALL!!! (not really,though)

So what happens? The first decent weather in the city in a few months and people go ape-shit. I've just returned to the airport, dropping Elizabeth off for her flight to Paris. I have to tell you that there were plenty of yahoos out tooling around in their cars and suvs for no reason, apparently, other than it's something to do on a nice Saturday. Plenty of accidents along the way involve fair-weather-addled motorists out for a joy-slam. Plenty of the "wearin'o'da'green" (already?! What the phuck, Ludwig?) Some mother's son almost hit me coming back into the city. I wished for a paint-ball gun filled with pellets gorged with egg yolks. Jack-ass.
Hey! I'm blogging, again; put to shame by Tony M over at LonelyRiceChronicles...AND I'll load images for you.
How's that shit? Here's something old from a sketchbook; scanned by none other than Caitlin Drake McKay of Devil's Due (check out last weeks Chicago Reader to see a photo of Caitlin, who's very cute, and read about the phuckt-up awesomeness that Devil's Due is droppin' on the comics scene). Speaking of comics, sinced I last blogged I've been assigned to a monthly book at Vertigo/DC. It's called "Jack of Fables" (JoF) and features the uber-mook, Jack of the Tales (Jack Horner, the Giant-Slayer, be Nimble, etc.,ect.), in his own (mis)adventures following his exile from Fabletown in the "Fables" storyline. It's written by Bill Willingham and Matthew Struges, who are two very,very talented students over at Roosevelt Franklin Junior High. Andrew Pepoy is on the inks. I'm into issue number 5 already. My editor, the magnificent and well-dressed Shelly Bond, seems pleased...and that's all that really matters, right?
You buy it when it comes out this summer; that's all I'm sayin', yo.
So this old sketch is something I wish I had been driving this afternoon. I would have blasted someone's ass with that...er, pulse-cannon-thingie in the back there, I would've.
Go to fabletown.com and checkout some of the chat. Then come back and tell me about what's happening because I never read it thoroughly enough, myself..I can't keep up with those verbose and talented guys. I try not to do "press"...I'll read it only when I'm feeling a good spike on the self-loathing chart and feel the urge to punish myself. Yes, yes; definately a rise in the incidence of neurosis when drawing a monthly book. I'll fill you all in later. Looking at this old art reminds of when it so important to me that I draw nattily dressed individuals of a martialist persuasion, prepared to do damage and look good while doing it!!! Oh,SNAP. Oh, BLAM! OK, I'll blog at you later.
h.e.
Tony

Hilarity Ensues

Hilarity Ensues
So, I'm on the "event horizon" of a major family reunion that's being held here in Chicago. Eightysome-odd folks from five countries; a good deal of whom I've never met. Peeps from the local environs, Ny, NJ, California, Canada, Jamaica and Holland.
About a quarter of the people attending, until a few months ago, had no idea that they were of partial African descent. One of my great,great,great uncles, one Mr. C. O'Meally, arrived here in the states in the 20's from Jamaica and intergrated himself into the "non-colored" spectrum of American Society. In other words, as we say in the hood, " He was 'passing.'"
(note: I don't really live in the 'hood' but that read great didn't it!?) So, I'm looking forward to meeting all my newly discovered cousins, aunts and uncles. From many of the emails I've read, they're equally as excited! A few are tickled to meet Professor Robert O'Meally of Columbia U., the noted Jazz expert, whom has always been a favorite relation of mine ( I hold he and his wife accountable for my life in the Arts). Enough said. Hey, does this entry mean I'm back on the blogging horse?
h.e.

Some kind of bug, alright.

So I go on this date Friday. A lunch date. Meet the woman in a bar near my studio and decide to go across the street to an Indian restaurant; Friday buffet... Conversation, compliments, food, more conversation. I had had a headache all morning and now it was making me a little queasy (a migraine coming on?). Well, long story short, in my head the clip of George Herbert Bush ( my patron President of Vomitting) hurling into the lap of the Japanese Premier kept looping. I coolly excused myself (I'm always cool before I hurl) and went to the mens room to loose my lunch. I don't think my date was none the wiser. I was concerned, however about just what the hell was going on with me.
Today I feel a little steadier. But still have some nausea whenever I think of real food. The fatty, baked thing this morning stayed down, thank you.
Aren't you glad I'm blogging?

Saturday Morning; coffee and a donut (sorta)

It's some other sort of fatty,bake thing which cancels out the fruit and soymilk in front of me. But, hey...it's Saturday morning and I have to WORK, love to work actually, while the rest of you guys do your weekender thing. But here, ...I salute you! To the parents wrangling children for their activities, practices and play. To the people who've already got the lawnmowing well underway. To the late-night revellers who are STILL revelling. To the other obsessive professionals who're already at their desks...I salute you!!!
The day is stretched before me. I'll spent it doing some layouts for "Gw_W2" (working title only), the graphic novel that I'm staring down the barrel of.
It's exciting though. Daunting too. I've tapped a good friend of mine who's a seasoned writer, apologized ahead of time for what I'm about to put him through and cut him in to a chunck of all the rights. He'll have earned it. So, I'll let you scoot over to some other blog, as I'm about to scoot afk to my drawing table. Good Morning.
h.e.

Still....Fine....Tun...ing....

OK...that worked

I guess my xhtml skills are not as mad as I thought. Maybe they don't even exist!!! Thought I lost my blog!!! Phew...
This is turning out to be a bloggers paradise for me. People who know people who know people. It's a joy to find unexpected things...now if I can only get my images to load correctly. Hrrrmmm.
h.e.