April 1, 2013
March 31, 2013
February 7, 2013
After the flurry of sketching in November and December, January saw a sharp decline. Need to get back in the sketching saddle. Hmmmm, sketching saddle, that might be something to sketch, hee hee!
Anywho, this is a detail of the line, from a page, for an e-reader (in the House that Jack built, no, sorry,) that I’m working on.
Hope you’re having a lovely 2013 so far!
November 20, 2012
As I sat down to sketch, I realized I was dragging a bit lately, and that’s when this here dragon popped into my head.
Get it? Dragging, dragon. Sigh.
Anyway, being tired and cranky paid off tonight.
June 27, 2012
June 17, 2012
He’s pretty rough, but thought since it’s been a while, I’d throw out a kookaburra, just because.
Oh, and if you’ve never heard a kookaburra laugh, listen to this.
March 17, 2012
August 16, 2011
March 17, 2011
January 27, 2011
January 19, 2011
September 10, 2010
Sheesh! I just realized it’s been a while since I posted anything. What is going on with me anyway?
Well, here is a wee piggy I posted on Dueling Banjo Pigs a while ago. You really must visit that site. It’s piggy-licious and full of hammy goodness!
June 20, 2010
For the past 8 years Father’s Day for me starts out with a reawakening of an otherwise, slowly, dulling grief. Thankfully this tends to be short lived as typically, in the midst of reminiscing, something else begins to happen. The sad and troubling thoughts swirling around my head, give way to a flood of happier and more endearing memories of my dad.
I begin to recall things like the big, infectious, toothy grin that would light up his face as he told one of his signature, corny jokes for the 45th time.
I remember, being 5 years old, and him throwing my sisters and I over his shoulder, calling us sacks of potatoes, then tossing us, sending us flying through the air and onto our beds, squealing with laughter and begging him to “do it again, do it again!” He knew we were conspiring to avoid lights out, but he would indulge us a few more times anyway.
He was an endless source of drawing paper, or tablets as he called them. He’d bring them home from work for myself and my sisters. We’d fill them up with “kid art” as fast as he could bring them.
At 14, I discovered in myself, a natural artistic ability when he bestowed upon me some old oil paints, a palette and some “how-to” books, he had dabbled with years before.
My dad had a penchant for tall tales, or at least they seemed tall. My sisters and I would roll our eyes as he told us of his past exploits, like how he had pitched for the Pittsburg Pirates. After snickering in our sleeves for Read the rest of this entry »