Back in the studio

What a joy to create this bright new color combination for my latest miniature, a recording studio from the mid-1960s. Partly historical, partly fantastical, this set was designed for my latest film, a documentary which utilizes archival recordings from the same era. I've always gravitated towards bending the rules of visually representing the past, and hope all of these pieces I've gathered come together as neatly as craft wood; Albeit, with some of their most endearing human imperfections imprinted upon the final product. 

AmirSaysNothing

I had the good fortune to catch AmirSaysNothing at a concert showcase organized by the prolific Charlie Scovill, held at the Bootleg Theatre in Los Angeles earlier last month. Amir's blistering set featured selections from his most recent collaboration with Scovill, Love Always, Mr. Right, which promptly made me an instant fan; Hence, this fan art. For more music from this electric pair and many more artists produced under Scovill's unique vision, please visit www.charliescovill.com to catch just a glimpse of this wunderkind's prodigious output.

AmirSaysNothing performs with producer Charlie Scovill at the Bootleg Theatre in Los Angeles; June 10th, 2018.

AmirSaysNothing closes out a rollicking evening of music organized & produced Charlie Scovill.

Hand lettering cinematic titles & an appreciation for Pablo Ferro

One of my all-time favorite movie openings that elegantly incorporates hand lettered cinematic titles belongs to Jonathan Demme's Philadelphia. Masterfully pairing the film's theme (performed by Bruce Springsteen) with warm, cursive script, this sequence beautifully captures the shifting harmonies and subtle cruelties of an American city, one which claims brotherhood as its namesake (or brand), rather than an embodied ideal to strive for. 

Even as a young child, I appreciated the feeling that came over me as I recognized titles on screen that weren't rigid and streamlined. Like in Philadelphia, these were deliberate, yet imperfect artistic choices. Handmade, preserving all their flaws. Their inclusion almost seemed like a clever trick, as if each card was an intruder, too sloppy for the big screen. Yet every time I'd come across this artist's work, whether I knew it or not, he evoked notes that I still can't describe. Going back through his resume, it's illuminating to realize his craft framed some of my favorite films as a child, my most formative to how I approach titles today: Dr. Strangelove, Harold and Maude, Men in Black & The Addams Family.

One of Pablo Ferro's most iconic works, his diabolically romantic opening titles for Stanley Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.

I'm speaking of the great Pablo Ferro, whose unmistakable style is still as bold and fresh as it was right off the page in the mid-60s. As I've learned, in creating my own handmade titles for my upcoming film, this approach takes time and a great deal of patience, much like re-fueling a B-52 in midair. Starting with a ruler, paper and some technical pens, I've reconnected with that childlike fascination of the bond between the hand and the page, an artistic choice that is imprinted with as much care as setting up a shot or smoothing out a piece of audio. Every bit counts. 

Miniature-in-progress: Recording studio

My latest film incorporates a new miniature set, a recording studio, which I'm realizing seems to borrow (in spirit) from the color palette of Stanley Kubrick's creepy red bathroom in The Shining. Eagle-eyed fans of The Duel may notice the grey file cabinet from its hospital scene, which will be repurposed for this new work with a coat of flamingo paint. Stay tuned for more mini updates as this room comes together!

Laying out the front & backs of the two chairs. Fingertips starting to accumulate flecks of red paint as its second skin.

The square wheels on these chairs do not go 'round and 'round.

Empty Skies // official poster

What a stimulating challenge to design a film poster for another filmmaker's vision! Many thanks to directors Wenting Deng Fisher & Luke Fisher for their guidance and faith in my abilities. The sumptuously shot and heartbreaking short, Empty Skies, coming soon!

Feathers

Not falling asleep by your usual bedtime is a bit like missing your bus home when it's really late at night. All you can do is wait until you're tired again. By that time, opportunities for sleep (much like the buses) only come about an hour or so apart. That is, if they're still running at all. So you just have to lie there and wait until the feeling takes you again. Perhaps you try to busy your mind, tricking it into thinking it's more tired than it really is: "Draw some feathers," you command. "Now open Photoshop." And you do. And still, you wait. Because you already missed your bus.

Learn to love yourself / Before loving someone else

Last year, I began compiling a sticky note on my desktop - a list of ideas for drawings that I've been meaning to complete. The above, "Learn to love yourself before loving someone else," is my first crack at the list. More to come, as I keep chipping away.  

Portrait of Gustav Mahler

Designing artwork for the USC Thornton School of Music affords me many opportunities to re-work classic portraits of equally classical composers. Gustav Mahler, featured above, was a late-Romantic composer whose works are still strikingly modern by today's standards. In service of this, I re-interpreted a profile etching of Mahler by portraitist Emil Orlik in the style of the great Milton Glaser, similar to his Bob Dylan portrait in the 1970s.

2018 Bird City Comedy Festival

Since its inception in 2016, The Bird City Comedy Festival in Phoenix, Arizona has blossomed into a premiere destination for some of the best voices in comedy, improv storytelling & sketch to stretch their wings in the Valley of the Sun. This year, founder and friend Genevieve Rice has trusted me to brand her event, as per our little friend above us. Be on the look-out this spring for apparel and merchandise, as I will undoubtedly by updating this blog with photos of comedians as ersatz fashion models slaying this graphic tee.  

"Everytime" by Boy Pablo

I've been experimenting with making cut-and-paste collages from my own illustrations, scrambling them in order to find new shapes or meanings. Music usually keeps me company while I do this, and one of the most delightful songs to do so last year was Boy Pablo's "Everytime." The music video is a delight, sun-dappled friends playing together on a dock in Norway. As the guitars swell and ring, you can almost feel the brisk of the afternoon by the water and the joy shared by all the musicians. Unexpected and effervescent, I highly recommend giving it a listen.

Ticonderoga

Last night I spilled some watercolor and inadvertently created a new state named "Ticonderoga," after the No. 2 Ticonderoga-brand pencil that rested against my desktop lamp. It's a brave new world, and its robust fishing economy is generously fed by three lakes that lap against its magenta shores: Lake Eugene to the north, and Lakes Dixon and Avery, which hug its southern border. Its capital, Moto City, is famous for its wild-caught Cadmium sandwiches, which can be enjoyed along the boardwalks during the Moto Music Festival come mid-November. Cooled by the balmy winds sweeping off Lake Avery at autumn's end, its boardwalks can be heard clattering with the shoes of college kids, some hand in hand, considering the wide expanse of ocean that rolls into the horizon. Last year when Aimee Mann played, the sound of her guitar seemed to skip across the surface of the water like a polished stone, similar to the one Casey, a student home from Cape Cobra, smoothed in her left hand. "u home for txgiving?" texted Brian, her (ex) co-worker from the office supply store she worked at freshman year before she transferred schools. She put her phone back in her pocket. Talking to Brian was like pulling on a loose thread, not unlike the one that swung from the back of her olive green sweater. She knew better than to reply, not wanting for handfuls of loose yarn and quick goodbyes in the morning of his studio apartment. Probably the same one he had since the last time she saw him. "I Can't Help You Anymore" began to play down the pier. Looks like Aimee was invited back this year. This song always reminded her of closing the office supply store late at night after her boss had left, when she could play whatever she wanted and sing as loud as she possibly could. Some nights she would scream and try to shake the stacks of 28 lb. carbon white like leaves. Her pocket vibrated. Probably Brian. Again. As the band continued to play, Casey turned to face the water and rubbed the stone in her left hand, warming it up, waiting for the right moment to let it go. If it wasn't for her mother trying to reach her, she'd throw her phone instead, and wait for it to skip or sink.

Piano #2

Sometimes, time should escape you.