There is no escaping gravity.  You are going to get bummed out.  No amount of planning can bypass the blues.  The only choice anyone gets is what to do when momentum shifts against their joy.  You can take the green pill and cry your eyes out until Momma makes it all better.  Take the red pill and you slap on a faux grin bottling up your inner mope.  The third option is to save pill gargling for Sunday School and push through the grind letting the depression take its course.  Creativity + depression usually equals bad art, but being down can also be the path to powerful realizations.  Certainly the bumming trip will end regardless of any choices made.

It’s cold and lazy in Richmond, Virginia.  Returning phone calls is so 2004.  It’s really hip to huddle in the corner at parties sending text messages.  It’s the equivalent of middle school not passing.  It’s all the same mean.  Inside jokes and movie quotes.  Richmond’s heat’s cut off.  It’s too chilled out for its own good.  Talk is not cheap anymore.  Talk has become really expensive.

Here are a few recent sketches from the past few weeks.

The Crab

Can you hear me now?

Hello?

Anton daydreams.

Doyle and beach bunny

I hunt articles and interviews of my favorite artists like game pheasant. Juxtapose, Super-7, Comics Journal. It’s my way of keeping current even though all the good artists are dead and all the best works were done decades ago.

I’ve stumbled on a common theme in many of these journals. It’s this commonly held notion about art and the artist’s experience that puzzles me to the core. All my heroes pine on and on about what a rough time they had getting to where they are now. They drone on about deadlines, rejections, and money trouble as if it’s a mating call, as if being an artist is hard in the slightest bit.

In my experience, the comic industry is lucrative beyond my most bezerk of dreams to the point where my methaphoric cup did runneth over (I only switched to cartooning as a “handicap”). The industry was taking time away from my deep sea fishing with constant book signings and out-of-town conventions. A good friend of mine, co-worker, and fraternity brother, brought me to my senses after he caught me inking a story for Image Comics in my corner office. On this meditation of my own artistic path, I guess I can identify with the idea of sacrifice for art’s sake, but I don’t agree with the doom and gloom tone of my fellow artists.

In short, I understand that for some people making a living in the art world is hard (or not even possible), but highlighting your weakness makes the industry look bad. I’m a comic success story, and it wasn’t always a bed of roses for me either. I had to give up rock climbing. I lost a lot of “me time,” but I never let them see me sweat! Deadline and rejections come and go, but I believe there is a sports car owner in every artist!

Once a year I get some time to count my blessings.  I am thankful for having a great girlfriend who feeds me (a lot), corrects my spelling (lots) and thankfully looks good too.  I’m grateful she lets me live in her great house located in a quiet and safe neighborhood that’s close to work and close enough to the city without the hassel of traffic and parking.  I’m also thankful for my three pets that I like… most of the time.

Once a year at this time, I get two days off from work.  I only hate work 60% of the time.  On my vacation I ate way too much food, slept in with my girlfriend until 9:30–sometimes 10:00, drank gallons of beer and coffee, watched stupid, trashy movies (Snakes on a Plane and Art School Confidential–both were major disappointments) blitzed vacant from our skulls.

Before Thanksgiving dinner at my dad’s, I raided the attic and found treasures from my youth for which I am also thankful.  I came out of the attic with three Godzilla movies and a box full of action figures and rubber alligators.

Now the holidays are all over, of course, and it’s back to work.  That’s all the gratitude and contentment I’ve got for 2006, so watch your back jerk face!

Below are a sample of paintings that I’ve been working on over the past year or so.

Get offa my cloud

Doyle, stressed over deadlines. If only Mel had a cyborg claw.

Doyle the Rabbit

Doyle is a youngish rabbit who is always trying to dodge family obligations. He is a bit flakey, but endlessly resourceful. Doyle knows hundreds and hundreds of knock-knock jokes.

Patton the Squirrel

Pat is like any other squirrel. He is high-energy and inquisitive. He has big ambitions and is confident that his friendship with Doyle will turn into a partnership.

Anton the Chipmunk

Anton is pure evil. He hatches one world domination plan after another, after another, after another.

Patton and Doyle play “Greek Gods” at the beach. See them lord over their imaginary townspeople comfy in their sandcastle homes.

Here is a picture of Anton.

Everyone knows that Patton is my favorite.