Hope...

Several months ago I posted a single page version of this story. By months I mean October. During my break from posting I expounded on the story utilizing more of the inks and stylization I enjoy. The story centers around a brave little seedling trapped on a wasteland planet; it is the place where hope goes to die. In one final act of resistance, he tries something that could only work in the world of fantasy...

Goodbye Winter

Back in December, I wrote and illustrated this little comic as a holiday card. As the winter is slowly reaching its hopeful end I figured it was an appropriate post.

At the end of this week I will be posting some images from the new picture novel I am currently working on, a fable of sorts about dangerous truth that lives inside the essence of all fiction.

Matt

The Boxer

There is a place I go mentally in between projects; it is a place of escapism and guttural hope. In this place of mixed emotions I often observe characters too wild or cunning for me to capture. So I observe. The figure I know only as "the boxer" - pictured above - is one such character. On a bitter winter day of ice and wind and brittle nerves I saw him. The boxer was warm lying there, surrounded by putrid trash. It was the warmth of a body ripe for death. When he died I watched as his soul, a molten fever dream of vengeful strength, floated into the bitter night air. His was the soul of a fighter. As he faded into the gilded skies of memory, I noticed his eyes. The boxer had none.


See you next Year!

In between times

Since my last post I've been engulfed in - what at times feels like - a swarm of projects and holiday travel. I will share more on these projects in January 09, so until then here is a little piece of whimsy to hold you over.



I hope to post once more before the end of the year so until then...

Death and Marla

A couple weeks ago, my wife and I journeyed several hours south to see My Brightest Diamond perform. We were almost dumb struck by the venue...a little vintage playhouse in the center of what appeared to be a sleepy Midwestern town square. The performance itself was full of musical intimacy, childish whimsy and an energy that made the small crowd of about 30 feel like a subdued 300. The drawing pictured above is from my sketch book or journal or doodle book or whatever you'd like to call it.

The illustration below is just some I came up with not along ago when I was bored and day dreaming. Why does "Death" always have to be ugly?

That thing called hope...

On a Hill Far Away...
Pen and Ink - 9 X11.5



Last Thursday the winds changed. Every year at the changing of the seasons, there is a period of time where the old and new engage in a tug of war. Two years ago it seemed as if Autumn had held off Winter's brittle chill until the very last possible moment. Turns out, Winter had been saving her strength. I thought of that image last week as I went for a run during what would prove to be one of the last warm days of Autumn. It was a day of fatigue and hope, one where I could feel the rope of the seasons slipping through the bleeding skin of my palms, still griping the rope of the past.

And when we finally let go of the rope, our hands bloody and rough, a melancholic euphoria ferments inside our imagination and births hope.

Dreams
Pen and Ink and Brush 9 x 11.5

Kansas City Journals

Dinner Conversation - Said's first day of school

Strange Cargo - The Irony of Holloween Travel

Old Man Snores-a-lot

At any given moment, someone somewhere is complaining about where they live. For some their complaints stem from poor housing conditions, a lack of necessary food, a dead end job, or the poor city planning of their current residence. Last week at this time I was in Kansas City. Those who know me are all too familiar with my venomous rantings and nonsensical ravings about Fort Wayne's many problems - the city I currently reside in. Going to Kansas City put things quite drastically into perspective. Like Fort Wayne, Kansas City is a place struggling to find an identity amidst the urban sprawl and neglect that has for so long nibbled away at these city's very quaint central areas. Even when eating in a newly revitalized area of downtown, I couldn't help but feel the wafting resonence of despair.





However, the trip was not without some great moments Such as the bald man snoring in front of me on the plane, the insecure model being hit on by a business traveler, or the human eye that was being transported on to the plane. Just the journey....