Monsters and Sloths and Cumming, Oh My!

Just came from the kind of appointment where the specialist smoothly establishes his credentials: treats over 1,200 women, is on board of committee that sets the national standards. He knows I will give things serious thought, that is obvious. An appointment that refrains from uncovering anything new, but which somehow leaves one with renewed foreboding. I think of things I had buried in the background for the past few years. Dig your holes: Still there? Yup, Still there. Eh. As always: could be better, could be worse. Enough. Stop at a cafe, order yourself a precious brown sugar ginger latte, get on with it. And onto the better: Javier's text says the Baby has been asleep for over 70 minutes! Especially good, as she has lately unrolled an early morning wailing session, starting between 2-4 AM.

Also good:

1.) The basement picture book wall*  is bearing fruit in February! I stared at sketch for the design below within the context of its page neighbors, frustrated by how different our young hero looks in this one from his depiction in other pages. Visited this page, among others: sat on the bed by the layout wall, happy to see all my designs and aggravated by them. Drank tea, drank beer, and frowned up at them. I have drawn these characters numerous times, from different angles, but am I a cartoonist? Am I, actually, an illustrator? No. But somehow this recent ruminative period yielded another sketch which brought Quimby's face closer in spirit to himself. Close enough to give the okay to transfer the design on Feb. 8th. Now here we are at the test print stage!

Initial inking showed several letters needed tweaking. Paring down or shoring up with some ennsy wood scraps. Wood glue and tweezers are your friends.

Next up, I reworked an early page. For both, it's the moment in which our monster has found his next cake to snatch. Originally, I decided to show him roaring three times, his silhouette larger as the eyes scanned up the page; the repetition was meant to underscore that his dessert thieving ways have happened and are happening.

...But then I began to wonder whether young readers would be confused -- if there is one monster, why does he appear many times? And his outline looks like an older version of how I feel my monster looks. This page became a thorn in my side. So this week I tried out the sketch at right. I'm liking it -- I think it's cleaner, more effective. But when I mentioned it on Facebook, my (admittedly tiny number of) commenters opted for more monsters! rather than less. Hmm. Either way, it's taped in place on the wall.

And thirdly, next, next up for the carving block.Kind of classic-cartoony-villain-easily-gaining-access-to-the-homes-of-trusting-rubes. I feel happier with something to carve.

*all pages laid out in order, in their various states of completion, on a single wall, to sigh and grimace at.

2. Alan Cumming!

This Scottish jewel should appear on any what-is-good list, right, but by golly, this time he's on mine! Javier won allll the Valentine's Day couple points by capping off the classic chocolates-roses-dinner trio with a shocking text of tickets to Cumming's sold out cabaret evening in Detroit. WHAT. WHAT. WHAAAAAT. I didn't jump on our two-top. I didn't knock over water glasses or wine flights. But neighboring diners shot glances in our general direction; Javier was rightfully pleased with himself.
I ceased to track conversational threads for ohhh, a few minutes, but beamed at Javier to make up for this; the grinning may have looked a bit toothy, wolfish. Mildly unbalanced. New York Times review of the show. Saucy man.




3.Current escapism (sketching, carving): Dexter (season five), Sarah Water's Fingersmith, as narrated by Juanita McMahon <-- never heard of her, but she's great!

Life enhancement: Sloth Slept On, written & illus. by Francine Preston-Gannon -- a good, simple story of an unlikely escapee. I'm entirely taken by the illustrations: clean, bold, sharply defined, but each shape with wonderful texture. The type also a nice choice, as well as the paper -- matte, with a good weight. Altogether satisfying! Recommended for the younger set. Baby also drawn to it, from the first reading. But sadly not as much as the super simple board books from our doctor's office: Park. I am at the park. Flower. I smell a flower. Clouds. I see clouds from my swing. Rain. I feel rain, time to go!

The house is quiet, I am sleepy. Time to go!

Cakeasaurus Design Progress

I'm really excited about the two designs I just pulled! My most recent studio times were well spent and differently meaningful, as they were the first such days as a mother. Javier texted me a few photos of Baby asleep in her swing, or laughing into her Grandpa's face, and I was able to happily motor along, spinning the printing wheel, holding each block up to the light, to make sure ink was evenly distributed. Satisfying days. All the more so, naturally, since the designs are fun and help to move the story along:

Page 5, approximately; edition of 25

Whereas "Cakeasaurus...Dreamt of Cake" is a bit rougher and more textured, "One Fateful Night"* feels a little slicker to me, almost possessing a 50's jaunty air. Since I have been carrying this project out over the years, around the edges, you could say, the images vary in approach and feel. This has definitely led to me reassessing and redrawing on numerous occasions -- and of course I worry about continuity and consistency -- and yet, part of me**
is confident these variations actually make the project more interesting and readers will accept it, as long as I do. Reactions?

*will be added to Etsy soon.
**conveniently delusional?

Page 17, approximately; edition of 30

I shared a few process shots in prior posts, but more photos available here. 

Picture Book Update: Monster dwarfed by Obsession

Well, all craziness aside, I am forging ahead. Here's the next Cakeasaurus design in queue to get editioned at my friend's printing press -- the third design in line!

I carved this one in less than two weeks -- a record for me, as I usually milk it along, fitting in time here, time there; building up a carving callous in the first couple days and then slowing down a bit. I listen to This American Life, Marc Maron podcasts; carve from this angle, leaning into the block, carve from that angle, curling myself over the board...wander off for a cup of tea, or to bundle wet laundry into the dryer. I'd like to say that since time is shorter*, I have discovered greater focus and that I now truly understand and honor the gift of my time! BUT, no. I still slack. But you also need to know when to pick your battles: if baby mutterings are only going to escalate once your put her down? Best to become one with the couch. In truth, boosted productivity came down to the ipad. I parked it in between my carving bench S-hook and the wall and boom! I carved all the way through John Leguizamo's "Ghetto Klown."

*non-Baby time, that is.

With the subsequent baby care breaks, came the first season of "True Detective." I got sucked into drawled out menace of Matthew Mcconaughey's obsessive character and lopped off the tip of Cakeasaurus' tail. A portion of a lower case f was lost to another pivotal moment, but wood glue helped us out. I didn't take a photo of the test print itself -- will wait until I make some full-fledged prints... more process shots over at flickr here.

Boy vs. Monster: Boy evolution.

Disclaimer: from a few weeks old. But not expired! No freshness pack, no sell-by date!

Oh-so-thankfully, everything seems to be waking up. WEMU is playing old crackly songs with saucy lyrics (how big are the biscuits, how sweet the honey, whose jelly roll?), tiny birds are plashing about the pseudo swamp of my back yard, and Javier has been plotting out play rehearsals by pacing between bedroom, living room, kitchen; bedroom, living room, kitchen. I picked up my Cakeasaurus picture project again, after a long dormant period.

Have been carving one block, like so:

though now suddenly, with the nice weather, I no longer wish to carve in the basement...

And more, importantly to carrying it forward, I have been playing around with the look of my  little boy character. During the entire length of this project, I have waffled about him. And he's important, so how can I start carving any woodblocks, when he's up in the air? He's too young looking, or too old; or his neck is too twiddly and snappable, his moon eyes too cutesy. So many issues, you have no idea!

initially the middle guy was the ticket. But then again: no.

But I think I'm getting a bit closer.

He has undergone many iterations

 I still like the below version of him in bed, but so far he has not fit into the rest of the images

he's wide awake, when he shouldn't be. Like so many of us.   

Red-handed cake theft, with prior boy character

And now an updated sketch. Aside from a needed ear shift, I'm liking him. His hair is closer to that of Robert Smith's than most young children, but being a former Cure-head, I'm okay with that. (The skinny Staples cashier clerk: "Hey is that your drawing? He looks kind of Anime...") I was surprised to find that having his arms hanging down actually contributed better to a sense of shock then the prior pose of hands raised to partially shield his face.

Well! And so it is: time stops at the moment of discovery, there is a hush; and then a rush forward, as everything catches up.The Sunday, certainly, is rushing forward. The 8th annual FestiFools parade is happening in less than an hour in downtown Ann Arbor ~~

~~ And then Compatriot arrived, we went off to find a parade spot, and life rushed forward, as often happens... Off to work.

Needs Minor Adjustment

There was much mooning about and lollygagging to be had during the three-day weekend at Casa M. And while we're *happily* into the next weekend, I'm still pondering some of the same themes that resurfaced over the last one, foremost among them being the ongoing need for balance. And also, to that end, our efforts to re-route things: our bodies, our thinking, ourselves or others. Ahhh, the corrections~~! Are they pointless? Silly? Or tiny necessary nudges to help you get somewhere better?

1. Minor Redirect: It Has What You Want

                        -->See also: negotiating/selling it

Javier and I were pleased with the brunch fare of Juicy Kitchen, a great -- and tiny -- new healthy neighborhood eatery. The scotch eggs were nestled in zesty turkey sausage and on top of sweet potato hashbrowns, with pineapple chutney on the side. Delectable. "More! Eggs!" said the sprite one table over. She had been avoiding food for most of the meal, but was now suddenly focused. Her hand shot into the air as if she had the answers. Her mother fished from sibling plates: "Eat french toast. French toast has eggs IN it." Gambit successful: child seated on her feet for added height, quietly nibbling on bready triangles.

After the brunch rush

2. Spiritual Redirect: Come Hell or High Clutter

"We need to walk this way so we can get the sign." Javier was bemused, but humored me. Javier's friend remembered a pithier version of the sign's flip side: "Let Jesus do your Spring cleaning." When we got there, it read thusly:

Were I Christian, I could get with that, Spring is a time of renewal, why not extend it to all levels? But it was the other side that was the true lure:

Bring out the fire and brimstone! When I drove past this a couple weeks ago, I was caught between delight and pure alienation. Love the juxtaposition of modern phrasing with the more medieval sense of living better [more Godly] through fear. It wants to jolt you out of the everyday, to make you recognize your ungodly ways and repent. Straighten up and fly right! Heathen firefighters beware! I like to imagine the sign maker's relish over this one. His (maybe her?) step a little spicier, for the sign's cleverness.

But really, how well does fear work as a motivator? If we resist immorality only through threat, really, that doesn't say much about the state or growth of one's soul, does it? Though I guess some of our most pivotal changes come with a jolt: a flipped over car that one emerges from, unscathed; the realization of truly low point, of one's own doing, etc. But rarely, I think, do jolts come from signs. Or bumper stickers. Since I don't believe in a physical (metaphysical?) Lake of Fire or an avenging deity, it doesn't really have the desired effect. The jolt is more along the lines of, "Oh, right. There are branches of Faith that try to marshal people with these kinds of messages."  The idea of someone having a belief so strong that they feel compelled to save people from themselves is fascinating, not that I wish to be the object of such attention. And not only the compulsion, but the belief that they could bring faith into being for other people. Curiouser and curiouser.

Plus, let's be honest, I mostly associate Salvation Army with the local thrift store near Eisenhower which is ONE OF THE BEST YOU COULD EVER HOPE FOR, can I get an AMEN?? Amen. And they certainly have a long history of charitable works. And homophobia. All you have to do is look at their logo, or give a moment to the actual name, to be reminded of their more militaristic side of faith.

In any case, we strolled past just in time. The new sign continues the theme-- "Eternity: Smoking or Non?" Hahaha, points. To balance things out a bit, here we have a lovely, moody print from a Massachusetts-based printmaker, contending that "Hell is Not Hot."  




3. Keyword Search Redirect: We Don't Have What You Want and You Also Won't Want These

Netflix is already confounded by Javier's account-sharing with his daughter: indie movies, Arrested Development PLUS slasher movies. What's a bot to do? Perhaps you'd care for Hostel: Part 3, this evening? No? Keyword search, however, has no problems mixing it up. Why yes, hours of conversation ARE made better by Twilight Sparkle and no-ties sex. Not pictured:  Dinner with an Assassin, Interview with a Hitman, Walking with Dinosaurs.


 ****
Of course, we have gotten this far without actually talking about internal direction, the will to focus on what's most important. Another blog bait and switch! Still mulling it over. At its most mundane, it translates into: exercise more, be more in the moment, more creative endeavors within the week. Trust life more. I think this next year of life will be a good one and an important one.

Updates from the basement, near my ever-less firey furnace:

 

Oversized polka dots new addition.

Tales from: the Basement, the Devil. A little Smackerel.

Short and sweet! A satisfying, full weekend. About to head kitchen-ward to try out another Yotam Ottolenghi recipe (though am cheating with using wide rice noodles rather than actually making my own, but still, can't wait to see how the paprika, coriander, cinnamon, mint etc all come together with the pasta). Should be good! Using Compatriot as a guinea pig, for both that and the marmalade pudding cake; however either of those turn out, we'll be glued to the TV, watching the first two episodes of True Blood, season four (I know...not every one has cable people). Lafayette, we've missed you! Eric, we've so missed watching you. It's cool, Jason: smart is overrated.  

Yesterday I was lucky enough to count myself among the audience at the Corner Brewery for the National Theater of Scotland's "The Strange Undoing of Prudencia Hart." Were you also lucky? It's gone as of this writing, but was apparently sold out for quite some time, so unless you planned ahead well, or are a star bellied sneetch, you won't have caught it here. I entered with the expectation of high quality fun (plus, yes some minor qualms about the degree of "audience participation"), but was otherwise clueless. Which, in retrospect, enhanced -- it was the perfect kind of rollicking theater piece to simply get lost in. And jostled by: for the lively troupe is not above nudging you or pretending to lasso you over to their side. The Washington Post's review calls it "whimsical in the extreme," before handily breaking it down: Strange Undoing... is "a tale recited in rhymed couplets by five actors, about a prim Edinburgh researcher into Scottish border ballads who comes face to face with Beelzebub." I'm pretty sure this theater group comes to Ann Arbor most years, via UMS, so definitely add them to your list of must-sees! Another take from the DCist here (though this has more spoilers).

In basement news, more carving progress today:

Started carving the cakes, which I had been avoiding until now.

Devoured, and its opposite. Now, with bunged up E, yay!

Chocolate or vanilla, the age old preference question.

Cake Maelstrom: First Carving for the New Year

Chaos is shaping up! The overarching vow for 2013 is *more focus* -- to approach projects and life with greater intent. So the first block to be carved is a double page spread, with Cakeasaurus doing what he does best. No carving callus yet, but I'm working on it!

Happy Monday, All!

Just Waiting for the Paint to Dry.

Oh...Hello. Hi...You know what?  I don't really feel like talking. It's not anything you did, or didn't do...Sometimes people change, or you turn a corner and realize YOU need a change. It's tough. Though offering surprise pints of ice cream, farmers' market flowers or the occasional llama pinata may have helped matters, certainly. It is what it is.* Let's just take a moment, look through some photos and remember the good times...

*Best to keep those blanket statements hanging about! Deep AND meaningless! Endlessly applicable AND snuggly.






Studio Saturday: Some Good, Some Bad

Flurry of carving last week

Sliced right through his twiggy leg! Mostly patched up.

Test prints on Friday night

Something snakey this way comes

A little dreamy, pensive

Look how shiny the studio was! Fresh paper laid down for my arrival!

I bet those painted wood panels will become something neat...

Ducks with indigestion. And an accurate sense of foreboding.

 

 

 

 

 

Abstract clean up

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Better One?

.

...Or Two? Obsessing Over color options.

More coloring to do, but the oil based ink was bleeding a bit yesterday. Must have some patience, before wrapping it up.  Happy Monday Evening, All.