Water, Water, Water

Creative dehydration - a thing that occurs when the creative body is deprived of fulfilling its intended purpose. The resulting dehydration may result in bursts of energy, phantom physical pain, irritability and minor depression. Occasionally mild digestive problems occur...fun times for all.


Over the last several months as some of you know - according to statistics I'm guessing 3 of you - I've been working on a new picture novel. Novels - or very complex lies as some people call them - by there very nature are often big, scaling epics and as a result require a lot from their creator. It's like long distance running, or in this case endurance writing/illustrating. The problem is not that it takes several months to complete, if not years - in extreme cases - , but that it feels really good. In a way it's like drinking a crisp glass of water on a hot day.

However...

Life happens. Responsibilities scream for your attention and pretty soon it's been a week since you've created and your creative body is downright dehydrated.

Sometimes it's such a shock to our physical system that we have to slip back into creating or our creative body will reject it.


And that is today's blog post.

As Promised - Preview Image

As promised...

I won't tell you who this is just yet. Soon Enough.

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?