Website Updated!

So, a year went by (over a year, honestly) without me paying one bit of attention to my poor old website. It was high time I applied a new coat of paint and got back to semi-regular posts. So here I am, finally joining this decade's web aesthetic and generally cleaning things up. 2018 sees many fun bits of news for me, including a book deal for my next graphic novel, Little Monarchs. It now has a home at Margaret Ferguson Books, an imprint of children's publisher Holiday House. I couldn't be happier, or better supported!

Dear Creature recently saw a French edition release, while The New Deal garnered a nomination for the Oregon Book Award (soon to be determined). Go old books!

Alongside my work on Little Monarchs, this year I'm writing BOOM's Over the Garden Wall graphic novels, with series' storyboard artist Jim Campbell doing a stellar job on art duties. Alongside THAT, I keep extra busy with watercolor covers for The Thrilling Adventure Hour, the odd McMenamins painting, illustrations for TEDx, murals, and a bunch of storyboard/illustration work. I'm sure I'm forgetting something... Oh, yes: Two incredible little girls, ages 6 and not-quite-9-months.

It's a beautiful handful, and somehow the work's all moving forward under deadline (editors, that's for you).

I'll go into more detail on all these projects soon, but for now it just feels good to dust off the site's cobwebs. I almost said website cobwebs, but that's too many webs.

Later!

Day Whatever - Things Break but There's Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving, and we're back from the great monarch adventure...

Although I wrote most of this post on the road, lack of internet and electricity kept me from finishing until now, so I'll cover several points from the last two or three weeks. Some reconstruction ahead.

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Nov. 16th - So says a receipt in my pocket, acquired after writing most of this passage. One week after election day.

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I think part of living long enough to claim adulthood is to embrace the truth that everything's broken or in the process of breaking. Bob Dylan said it and I affirm it. Here he goes, from 'Oh Mercy,' that lovely and underappreciated Daniel Lanois-produced album from 1989:

Broken bottles broken plates Broken switches broken gates Broken dishes broken parts Streets are filled with broken hearts Broken words never meant to be spoken Everything is broken.

Seem like every time you stop and turn around Something else just hit the ground

I'm sitting in a car dealership sipping wifi while they change the truck's oil and I race against my bluetooth keyboard's last remaining battery charge. Last remaining because my keyboard, like many delicate things I've forced to travel a long, bumpy road, has received a blow from which won't recover. For the moment though, in spite of its busted charging port, I have juice to blog.

What can I say now, though, thirty-odd days into our adventure? With the bulk of our beautiful trip complete, we now return north to cold weather in a world that just shifted on its axis. Funny. The broken keyboard just spelled out 'shitted on its axis' before I corrected the typo. Fair enough.

On Election Day

By way commentary on the election, I'll let Dorothy's morning-after statement lead off because no one can call too much foul on preschooler politics: "Let's not make breakfast because Donald Trump might come and eat it all up!" I guess she has the gist of it. We're still trying to convince Dorothy that we didn't vote for Trump. The idea of majority is a tough sell to an egocentrist under the clearest circumstances. Here's us trying to explain it to her:

When two people want to go out for sushi and one person wants to go out for pizza, you have two votes against one, and two's more than one so everyone goes out to sushi. Right? Even though mommy and I voted for Hilary Clinton, a lot more people voted for Trump than... well actually... Hm.

So, I'll wait on explaining the electoral college. I'll also wait on explaining the full reasons for my anger, sadness, and disgust. As a Christian I'm ashamed of evangelical Christianity's support for this man. It confounds and maddens me. For a while I likened Trump to a Bond villain, then an Austin Powers villain, and then... my friend Alex gave me the perfect correlative: America, through its votes or lack thereof, just chose for its leader a Paul Verhoeven villain. Like this evil guy from Robocop. Remember him?

Like many others I find myself searching for what right action I can take now. What's reasonable to do in an unreasonable situation? Another friend of mine, Joseph, is a minister who went to Standing Rock for five days just before the election. We spoke on the phone about it. Joseph's one of my favorite people: a former atheist who received a full ride to Union Seminary in New York (the famous US digs of everyone's favorite anti-autocrat, Dietrich Bonhoeffer).

At Standing Rock Joseph saw tribal elders leading people in prayer, keeping vigil around a fire kept burning since August. This is one small part of their protest over the Dakota Access Pipeline, but an important part. He described a scene of protesters who didn't act out of desperation, but from reliance upon prayer. Even though the tribes admit they'll likely lose this cause, their grounding in prayer gives them a sense that they've already won. They're connected to something greater than their circumstances, greater than the macings, beatings, and rubber bullets doled out from local law enforcement.

Joseph said the elders had this response when he asked how his community could help: (my paraphrase) "Money, a truck, food - they're helpful, but what we need most from you is prayer." I talked to Joseph about that - how even as theists, he and I usually look for immediate, practical solutions. We fret. We grasp for a right action, wondering if we'll make an irreparable mistake. Right action is necessary now, of course. I don't condone inaction or anything that looks like apathy, but I was moved by the simple idea that right action can be grounded in the broad, sturdy peace of prayer. Peace that's victorious even in the face of defeat.

"This is what we try to do in church," Joseph chuckled. Along with practical social/political justice, yes, that is what we try to do. I'll try to do it better.

In my office I have a little prayer station filled with a few items of remembrance: A picture of my grandma, a little wooden dolphin brought back from Bali by my late brother Quentyn, a copy of Sarah's wedding vows - examples of love given to me. Last year before Otis died, he sometimes sat there in my lap. In the quiet we'd watch a candle burn down, his little hands upturned in mine, and I'd say a few thank-yous. It's a ritual I miss sharing with him, but I do get to share it with Dorothy. I think we'll start Thanksgiving that way.

Traveling On

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Nov. 23rd

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Now that we're back home I've spent the last couple days repairing lots of those little trailer things that broke over the course of five weeks. So far I've been very successful, and that's satisfying. I try to know my limits, though.

Last Friday, on our last day of travel, a wheel bearing went out on the trailer in a burst of smoke and sparks. It happened just five miles south of home on I-205, rush hour. What are the odds? We were able to get off the freeway and leave the trailer overnight near an office building since we couldn't find anyone to tow it. After piling our things in two cars, one belonging to Bonnie, my beloved mother-in-law, we drove the last five miles home sans-trailer and slept in our old beds. I say 'old beds' and not 'real beds' because the trailer became a very real home for us these last five weeks. The cavernous space of our house feels alien and pretty ridiculous. Dorothy couldn't even find the bathroom, and we've lived here two years. But back to the trailer: After calling a number of places I finally secured the help of Wayne's Mobile RV Repair, who came out and replaced the R-Pod's ruined lefthand drum and bearings. Thankfully the axle was fine and we got away from it all for a few hundred dollars and no wasted time from me trying to do the job myself. I do love experts.

My work over the next few weeks should be exciting as I compile all the trip's photos, data, and rough draft pages for use in The Guidebook. I also have a meeting coming up to discuss partnership and scientific fact-checking with the Xerces Society, who lead the march to protect and restore monarchs across the country. It's great fun to start piecing everything together after five weeks on this latest trip and five years since we first set out to gather resources for this project. I know there'll be plenty of days where I throw up my hands because making books is hard, but I feel fortunate to have so many creative resources gathered up just waiting to be pieced together.

Thank you for following along on this journey with us. Updates from the road were sometimes sporadic, but that's the nature of adventures. I have so many other tales to tell - monarchs at Hearst Castle, waterfalls in Big Sur, building a lego trailer in a trailer. For now I'll leave off on this memory which seems like a good shorthand for the whole trip:

Near our southernmost point, Dorothy and I took a daddy-daughter day to explore Moss Landing's estuary in our inflatable kayak - a Czech-made Gumotex Solar 410c, for you gear-junkies. After we suited up Dorothy with life vest, sparkle skirt, and a bow strapped over her torso, she declared, "No one's going to mess-up with me." That's right, girl.

We put in and paddled for two hours, seeing in that time dozens of sea otters, sea lions, pelicans, barnacles (absurdist Dorothy's favorite, of course), and more. The kid never complained or declared boredom: A new stage for us in boating. After this we slogged ashore on a muddy bank at about noon. We slung our hammock between two cypress trees and ate a veggie-heavy picnic lunch chased by Dorothy's Hello Kitty jelly beans, which she shared with me. Miraculously, she does love to share. Then it was over the sand dunes to the beach for archery practice on monster heads made of sand. When we returned to our boat the tide had gone out enough that we couldn't paddle back, so I ended up shouldering vessel and gear the last quarter mile back to camp. A small price to pay for our fun.

And I guess that's the gist of my experience out on the road - things broke, or the tide went out, or they elected a Robocop villain for President, but these things were the least of it all. The riches outweighed them.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.

Day 16 - Monarch Central, Santa Cruz

The Monarch Grove, Natural Bridges, San Diego.

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Leaving Berkeley on Tuesday we caught lunch at a great little Taqueria - Casa Latina on San Pablo Ave. Seems to me they're all great once you get deep into California. This one was outfitted with a table for Day of the Dead remembrances: candles, bread loaves, and sugar skulls with names of the deceased spelled out in purple sequins. Dorothy asked if there was an 'Otis' on the table, but there wasn't. We did later see his name on a street sign as we pulled into Santa Cruz. And that's where we found one of the largest Monarch groves on the coast.

If you grew up in Santa Cruz, maybe the thousands of overwintering monarchs wouldn't seem so impressive. The Cases, however, were impressed. Monarchs come to Santa Cruz every October and stay over til spring. They're generation 4, the special ones, built stronger and with greater life spans than generations 1 to 3 combined. This is all so they can travel from far northern territories to this tiny part of the earth they've never seen before. Here they will survive the winter, reach their postponed sexual maturity in spring, them push north again to bring on the next generation of migrants.

No parent ever communicates with the monarchs or guides them in their mission, at least in any way humans understand. We don't know how their navigational intelligence works, but we believe it includes knowledge of the stars, the sun, and the earth's magnetic fields. Whether genetic or mystic, there's a driving command in the monarchs that endures beyond their lifetimes. Maybe that's why native peoples see in them the spirits of their departed. Monarchs bear not only a consciousness that overcomes death, but an unmatched grace and boldness even in their frailty. In spite of my family knowing the butterflies' link to the Day of the Dead, our arrival on that very date to their winter home at Natural Bridges was pure serendipity. We've made no reservations on this trip, planned few plans, and really just let the wind blow us south. We felt that something greater than us had worked to time our arrival. Inside the monarchs' eucalyptus grove Sarah and I could only stare up in silence and watch them. She shed tears for Otis. I held her and thanked God for another moment of awe - never sufficient, but a little healing.

More Connections

After lingering in the grove and absorbing what we could, we traveled outside of town a few miles to camp on some distant relatives' rural property. Our host, Luke, whom I'd only met earlier this year at San Diego Comic Con, told us that my brother Quentyn had camped in our spot years ago. Like Otis, we lost Quent too soon a little over four years ago. He was 42. Before bed we lit a candle for Otis and Quent and thought of what it might be like if they were sharing some time together. I think they'd be well matched. Both handsome brown-eyed men, both lovers of machines. Otis might teach Quent to just embrace his sensitivity already, and Quent could teach Otis how to write - something he did well but never showed me during his life.

The truth is that even though I believe in God, I'm less and less sure about life beyond death. I don't know anything about it and I don't trust anyone who claims certainty. I do know, though, that there's mystery beyond mystery, and reason behind what seems impossible. Monarchs navigate to places they've never seen or heard about with confounding confidence. If they can do it, I suppose I can keep my little faith for now, and hope that more will be revealed in time.

Day 14 - Victory on Albany Hill

Yesterday, in the eucalyptus trees on top of Albany Hill, I saw monarchs. This was in spite of my timing being early for their arrival in this particular part of the Bay. It was a definite high point in my journey to bring The Guidebook to life, and one of many small miracles I've encountered on our trip.

Until last night I'd only seen one monarch in the wild, this summer on top of Portland's Mt. Tabor. I'd just finished the day's work on my rough draft from my mobile hammock+notebook studio. At the moment I closed my notebook I looked up and saw it fluttering ten feet directly over my head like a little spirit come to say, "Yes, grown man. You may perform your work in the woods, in a hammock. Good idea." I watched the monarch for two or three minutes before it shot west down the mountain. I chased its shadow through the leaf canopy for a few paces before it glided into a clearing, across a road, and out of sight.

Historically, I really try not to force meaning from these moments. I want to tell the truth as best I can, even through the complete fabrications that are my books. Then along comes this year with its tragedy upon tragedy and I find it just a little easier to embrace the big pile of schmaltz that's inside me. If I have to find gratitude in impossibly awful scenarios (and I do have to), acknowledging the miraculous in very small moments becomes natural.

Last night, when I finally found migratory monarchs on Albany Hill, there was no clear message like that time on Mt. Tabor. Still, I have to claim a growing bond to these creatures and all the mysteries they embody. Butterflies are a symbol across world cultures for those who've died before their time: Soldiers in war, lovers, and lost children. Mexico's Day of the Dead is rich with monarch iconography. Even Shigeru Mizuki, Japanese master of manga, recounted a spiritual experience with butterflies in his autobio and history of Japan, Showa. A vet of WWII, Mizuki tells in one chapter of his return with war buddies to a South Pacific island and an old battlefield covered with decades-old bones from dozens of Japanese soldiers. After a restless sleep in the jungle, Mizuki and his friends share with each other that they all had the same nightmare: the bones rose to ask them why? Why did they return? How did they deserve to live? Shaken, the men decide to gather all the remains they can find, anoint them with sake, and hold a makeshift funeral. After praying over the bones for a time, they're shocked to see butterflies pour out of the jungle from all directions, then descend to cover the bone pile in a blanket of living color. Were they just attracted to the sake? Were they the movement of spirits? Shigeru asserts the latter. I think I would too.

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Photos from Albany Hill, ordered to give you an impression of my hunt:

I don't think it was the random giant metal cross that prompted it, but as soon as I reached the top of the hill, I prayed for a monarch. I'd spent a few minutes circling and climbing the park with no sign of any flying insects whatsoever, maybe thanks to the thriving robin population. But... robins don't eat monarchs.

This little one appeared moments later, maybe sixty feet above me. I thought this might be the best photo I'd get. I lost the butterfly in the trees, then spent about ten minutes circling the hilltop looking for more. I gave up, grateful for the brief sighting, and headed back down towards my car...

When I saw another! Just down the hill the same way I'd come up. Again, far off, even with the telephoto lens.

Closer, but not better.

I took a few dozen wasted pictures as I tried to follow one, then two butterflies through the tree limbs. Finally:

Some color! Blurry, but now most definitely a monarch. Then I saw this:

A whole cluster of them!

Two clusters! Just 15 - 20 feet above me.

Then another flash of orange...

Then a slow fanning of wings. A gift.

With night about to fall, I celebrated this victory with a Japanese dinner accompanied by a giant Sapporo beer. Just me, Shigeru Mizuki, and the memory of two dozen little miracles.

The Guidebook

Today I want to share a very little bit about my next book. As we travel the west coast, dodging raindrops and making memories, I'm also gathering data and reference material for a young readers graphic novel, The Guidebook. Here's a snapshot from my proposal:

To survive in a world where mammals are nearly extinct, a little girl named Elvi and a brilliant naturalist, Flora, must follow and protect the monarch butterfly migration.

It’s 2260. Solar radiation, now lethal to mammals, has forced humans into underground bunkers while nature overtakes cities, roads, and landmarks. The only eight-year-old girl lucky enough to roam free on Earth’s surface is Elvira Jones. Flora, Elvi’s adoptive mother, is a brilliant naturalist who discovered a chemical in monarch butterflies that allows mammals to live in sunlight again. Against the wishes of important people, Flora escaped her bunker with a few supplies, a pigeon named Thoreau, and the only person she couldn’t leave behind - Elvi.

Now Elvi and Flora follow the western monarchs from north to south on America’s Pacific coast. Flora wants to make enough medicine so that every human can live above ground again. Along their adventure, Elvi and Flora rescue a mysterious baby boy, navigate considerable mother-daughter drama, and overcome a threat from five men who want control of the monarch’s secret. Elvi reflects on these and more important moments (like getting bit by a weird bug) in a journal she calls “The Guidebook.” Elvi’s journal pages pop up through the comics narrative to serve as a field guide. Sort of like Flora’s fancy naturalist textbooks, but much more fun.

On every page or two, in the corner of a landscape panel, there are coordinates and a compass heading. This allows readers to follow Flora and Elvi’s progress through real places and even travel their exact route themselves.

So we travel with Elvi and Flora. We're in our travel trailer rig and they're in an imaginary, heavily modified 1988 Toyota van (my dream rig - the one that never dies, even in a far fetched-future scenario). Our routes overlap as I map their fiction to our stops from Florence, OR to Big Sur, CA and beyond. These are the tools I use to merge our travels:

The big watch-like thing on my wrist allows me to get coordinates. It's early 2000s' tech, but it was cheap, it's durable, and it gets the job done. The little compass on the right gives me a rough heading towards whatever view I take in. Once I double-check these numbers, I tuck them into the corner of a Guidebook drawing and add in my fictional details... In the example below, I put Elvi and Flora's adventure van and an old driftwood stump I used to climb on as a kid in Pacific City, OR. Elvi hangs on it there in her red hammock.

Adventure calls us down the road again now, so I'll leave more details for later. We're currently in Arcata, CA, headed towards the Avenue of the Giants - a place where my dad marathoned back in his wildman running days. After that, it's further down the coast toward the monarchs' overwintering turf.

Can't wait!

Day 5 - Nature vs. Blogging

Already five days into our adventure and just getting in a blog post now. I blame the wonder of nature. This is just the reality of all kinds of camping adventures taking over my time and energy. That and lack of internet. Oh, the joys and perils of the internet un-plug. I see you, (33) emails. I'll be with you in a while. It's hard to know where to begin for an update, but I'll just start with this picture, stolen from Sarah's Facebook wall:

Look at that form! Not bad for her third time. I hope it's just a glimpse of things to come. Occupying Dorothy's a full time job, but we're keeping her busy with hikes, in-car/in-trailer artwork, and various candy bribes. Here we're sharing an art session, she painting with my watercolors while I rough out my next book:

These are the riches of dad-dom.

So where have we been since Saturday morning, anyway?

On Saturday, instead of getting away by noon, we left at 7:30 PM. Regardless of our underestimating the work required to launch, we were dead-set to sleep somewhere else, even if that meant our driveway. We ended up driving just a bit down HWY 99 to Champoeg Park. That marked our first night in the R-Pod as a family. All three of us collapsed into our transformable beds exhausted but thrilled to be really doing this crazy thing.

It wasn't until Monday that we felt our trip was under way. Honeyman State Park just south of Florence, OR gave us a shot of the coast's rugged beauty and our first fair weather day. When we decided to leave in October I knew that rainstorms would be an inevitable part of our mobile, semi-outdoor lifestyle, but theory differs distinctly from practice. When I shut my eyes now I see water, grease, and clinging pine needles. On the other hand, because of this season I also enjoy open roads, open camp sites, and warm tea with my girls in the morning. Speaking of the girls...

TEAM STATUS:

• Dorothy's doing remarkably well as a travelling companion. I couldn't ask for better company in a four year old, in spite of the Princess and the Frog audio book. Currently sleeping.
• Sarah's a born road warrior. I'm regularly surprised by her grace and patience in limit-testing moments (who knew the chaos one bunch of bouncing bananas could unleash in a travelling travel trailer). Currently yawning (9 PM is the new midnight).

We're now a few hours north of the redwoods, bearing down on one of our two time-and-place commitments. I have a short talk and signing in Arcata, CA for the Dear Creature hardcover at Northtown Books on Saturday. I promise to shower.

That's all I can muster at the moment. Next up, I hope to have the pine needles and water cleared from my brain so I can share a bit more on the new book. For now, it's scotch with Sarah (and whatever she's drinking) and a moment of quiet while our child is OUT.

Readying to Launch Our Adventure

Let's adventure together.

Get out on the road, into the woods, under the waterfalls. Hang in hammocks, cook over fires, draw and paint. Try to stay patient even after hours in the car with all time-passing games exhausted. Find many, many weird bugs.

This is my family's dream for fall. On Saturday, the Cases head out with a little travel trailer for a five week road adventure/book research trip/book promotion extravaganza.

Characters and Plot

Meet our three-headed team:

• Jonathan (the dad), driver of rigs, book-maker, eater of plants.
• Sarah (the mom), master schemer, keeper of peace, dancer of swing.
• Dorothy (the preschooler), hiker of hills, candy-consumer, absurdist.

...And our three-pronged plan:

• Meander through fascinating outdoor places and ultimately reach the overwintering sites of the migrating monarch butterflies in California. Make and take pictures, jot coordinates, gather field data for my next graphic novel: The Guidebook --- A kid-friendly, outdoorsy-future-earth-adventure which follows the monarch's migration from the Northwest states down to the bugs' forested sanctuaries in Monterey, Marin, Santa Cruz, and surrounding counties. I'll finish my rough draft of The Guidebook while we're on the road (mostly from my hammock-office, pictured below).
• Promote the new hardcover release of Dear Creature with bookstore and school stops along the way - do sketches for kids (and grownups, I guess), talk about graphic novels, share of our adventures. See the sidebar for our evolving tour schedule.
• Blog it all so someone will know where to find us if we get lost in the woods.

We'll take this wild ride in a 1998 Lexus LX470: also known as the fancy-person's Land Cruiser. I selected this vehicle for its reputation to not break, pull stuff, and go where others fear to tread. Example:

These things are scarce like Donald Trump at Hip Hop Fest Northwest. Still, I managed to wrest one from a local used car dealership (shudder). It guzzles gas but it'll probably outlive me. Maybe one day they'll make a retro-fit Tesla battery pack to shove this truck's 5,500 lbs across the land. As long as I'm dreaming.

Right now we're battening down the hatches at home and doing our best to maintain focus as launch day nears. We're really excited to share more on our adventure. I'll try to post updates with every place we visit, taking the 2/2/2 approach to the RV life: Never drive more than 2 hours, never stay less than 2 nights, and always arrive by 2 in the afternoon. I haven't tried such a relaxed pace to travel before, but I hope it avails us plenty of time to explore, create, and make waffles over campfires (you have to try them):

For now, on to packing! More soon. It's time to explore the earth.

Sarah's Painting Complete

It's done! I set Sarah's painting aside while I finished my work on The Creep, but I just got a chance to lay down the finishing touches. Since it's going up in the living room, it's going to be hard not to take it down and tweak the things that will inevitably start to bug me.

The final pass over the background was mostly about balancing colors, adding in a little more depth, and covering over the underdrawing. I pretty much decided to wrap things up when Jeff Parker's kid was over for a visit and said, "Why are you still working on that? It looks done."

What can you do? Kid says it's done, it must be done.

New Painting, Step Four: Fleshing It Out

A lot of progress today on the overall painting (though a lot of that is unseen here). I'm getting close. I expect the next update will be the finished piece. Today's focus was mostly the scene around her— the fruit, the hanging vines in the foreground, etc. I also did a little more work on her skin, though she's looking pretty chiseled right now... I may ratchet that back some. Tomorrow I'm back to work on The Creep, so I'll have to do a little painting here and there in my off time, but hopefully I'll get to post the completed work soon! Stay tuned.

New Painting, Step Three: Major Colors

I did get a couple hours to work on the painting yesterday. Not a lot, but enough to get started on the dress and the lounge upholstery. The definite highlight was getting to work again with baby Dorothy in tow. She went in the moby wrap and we bounced around to a record as I worked at the easel. It was a charmed life moment. A later afternoon session saw her a lot more grabby, so it didn't last long. No cadmium red for baby.

Right now I'm just blocking in the main areas of color. Some of this will have to be balanced as I progress. I'm feeling like things are getting a little too saturated vs. the skin tone (which almost always happens for me), so I'll probably go over the lounge with a transparent layer of ochre. I'll save that step for later on though, once more colors are blocked in.

More later on!

New Painting, Step Two: Start It Up

Day the second. Time to bring the PAINTING.

So, Sarah made it clear that she's after full color. Sorry, Leonardo. I like the unfinished look of that one thing (and your fabulous blue mask and katanas), but we'll keep your influence a little further away. She also reminded me that she wanted a feeling of 'abundance', with fruit, flowers, etc., as utilized to good effect by Mucha. Fair enough. She pays me in love, she gets what she likes (I like it too)!

Here's one of the images she responded to, particularly its color. She digs the turquoise, so I'll be incorporating that later on.

First off, some sketches. I usually vary from painting layouts pretty significantly as I work, but I did find a pose that I liked, and ran with it. Exhibit A.

I also scribbled this face. Vampy McVamperson, Exhibit B.

These images are taken with my cell phone for simplicity's sake, so ... forgive. Next up, I started drawing on that freshly gessoed masonite with my trusty red Derwent pencils. These are nice because they avoid the problems of dead-cold graphite showing through thin layers of paint. Everything gets covered over eventually, but it's nice to have a warmer feel to the lines while I'm balancing colors later on. I pretty much always get better results when painting from these. Maybe it's just psychological, but I'll take it. Exhibit C.

After I got the drawing where I wanted it (a lot of trips to the mirror to check it with the other side of my brain), I laid down a sealing layer of ochre acrylic, matte medium, and flow release (mixed together), let that dry well, and started in on blocking out flesh tones. Ghostly Exhibit D.

Then it's off to the races, laying down more colors and color variations to really carve out her features and frame them with SUPER-NOUVEAU-HAIR. Which brings us to the last image, Exhibit E. The flesh tones aren't completely done, but they're getting there.

Once again, my cell camera's bringing me down, but maybe that will help with the big reveal at the end (using a better camera). I hope to make some more progress on this tomorrow, and if so, I'll surely post an update.

Thanks for reading!

New Painting, Step One: Research

I'm in the rare position of having a couple days to dedicate to a painting for my wife, Sarah. She often uses the "cobbler's children have no shoes" line in reference to how little art she has from me. It's been a couple years now, and I'm overdue to put on the good-husband-artist hat and whip something up. I purchased my masonite board this morning, and have a second coat of gesso drying as we speak. I'd show you, but it's just white.

Instead, let's take a look at possible subject matter/reference/points of inspiration.

Sarah wants something in the vein of a Mucha woman with long, flowing hair. That's (I think) all the direction I have so far. I like Mucha. Who doesn't? You may see him everywhere, but he's got a lot of appeal. I have to say, I do gravitate towards his drawings more than his highly decorative finished illustrations. I'd like to keep some part of my painting gestural and loose, so I'll be looking further afield for some of my cues, but Mucha's a starting point.

I thought of asking Sarah to model for the piece, but what's weirder? Having your wife's exact likeness, multiple feet across, hanging around your living room and all done up in a sensuous, Art Nouveau sump'n-sump'n, OR, pasting some other lady's face over all that? I'll have to do some research on that point. See what the patron wants to do.

I do know that I want to do something in a landscape format, in an asymmetrical composition. Something along the lines of this Ava Gardner shot. In fact, Ava Gardner wouldn't be a bad choice for this piece (or anything, really).

John William Waterhouse is another example of an artist I could reference in the same spiritual vein, but I'd like to bring in some element of pop art, or just something to loosen it up a little bit. Just a dash so it doesn't get precious.

The other thought I have is to not make it a finished painting at all, but to leave a lot of it in the sketchy construction phase, with deep sepia tones, reds, and chocolatey browns making up the major palette. Like this unfinished piece from you know who. Maybe a little more color, a little more finish in select areas.

Tomorrow I'll have some of the questions nailed down, but this is a start. I'll keep you posted as I head into the mockup and actual drawing.

Best Comic of the Week

After Sarah sent out the latest round of baby Dorothy pictures to friends and family, her dear and clever brother, Dan Zollner, came back with this, and it wins everything.

Stumptown 2012

It's been real, Spring Convention Season. You tried to take me away from my wife and child nearly every weekend for the last two months. You mostly succeeded. I leave you now, more machine than man. Twisted and evil. But in a good way!

Photo credit: Lindsey Ellis

Stumptown capped it all off, and it was a good ending note. Visits from wife and baby, a Dear Creature reading at Comics Underground with Dylan Meconis, meeting Michael Allred and listening to his family band, The Gear...I was even honored to pick up a couple Stumptown awards for Best New Talent (Dear Creature and Green River Killer), and Best Artist (Green River Killer). And they're the cutest awards. Just look!

Monsters are always the answer, and I'm glad the Stumptown committee knows that.

I put a ton of stuff out on my table, books-wise, and it hit me that it's all come out pretty much in the last six months. Dear Creature, Green River Killer, House of Night, Dark Horse Presents (The Creep).  It was kind of surprising to see it all in one place— and there's more to come this weekend, for Free Comic Book Day! If I tweeted more, people would know that they should be sick of me by now. As it is, my lack of consistent tweeting is all that keeps me in people's good graces.

Big thanks to everyone involved in this crazy Spring Convention Season. It was great, but I'm all out of words now.

Nite nite.