Slice of Life: Art Division Redux

I staggered to Kevin’s office under the weight of canvas–my finished Deer Woman piece, 24 x 36 of not-entirely-satisfying-to-its-creator artistic creation.

“Wow,” said Kevin. “That’s…epic. I mean…epic.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I said, setting it down and scrounging for a hammer, “because I’m hanging it in the stairwell until either I like it or I figure out what’s wrong with it.”

“Well, if you must…” he said, and went back to running one-seventy-millionth of the Internet, or whatever sys admins actually do.

Tomorrow when the lighting is better, I will at least take a photo of it, but a full-on uber photo-session with the lighting and all will have to wait, since the notion is exhausting and also I don’t think I can get the lights out of the closet without destroying most of the carefully orchestrated piles that contain my life.

The next one will be better.

Decoupage without Pants

Kevin walked in to discover me decoupaging torn pages to the 24 x 36 canvas I had secured for the next incarnation of this painting. (The largest size available without a much longer drive, and after and hour and some change with the glue, I’m not sorry…)

“You’re not wearing pants,” he said, which was true.  Actually, I was wearing a tanktop and a black lace thong, which sounds hot, except that I was hunched over a canvas in a position where any loose skin kind of hangs and glops, and in which nobody looks good, no matter how they’re built.

“Look,” I growled, “it’s just easier this way…” When you’re slinging that much liquid glue around, it gets everywhere, and skin sheds glue much easier than fabric.

The victims of my decoupage are an elderly history of 1857 England and a bargain rack horror novel so dreadful, so appallingly written, so weakly plotted and gratuitously gory, that I wanted to give it a chance to make some of itself by being part of a painting. It may not come out as a good painting, but it cannot possibly be worse than the novel in question, which made the screenplay of Dagon look like serious literature.

After a few minutes, I will apply clear gesso, and see if I can’t get a ground suitable to paint on.

Much later, there may be pants.

I promised you a voluptuous rhino…

A very mixed media piece, 9 x 12, mostly because I still can’t get over the Gorman’s Rabbit painting. (It’s so rare that I like one of my own pieces…)

The problem is that I look at this and go…”Yes. Right. I like it. But…damnit…it needs to be HUGE.” There’s an impressiveness to sheer size, and when you’re relying on curve and shape and something frankly as bizarre as a shapely white rhino butt…yes. It needs to be about six feet tall. Or at least as tall as I can fit in my Vibe, and never mind that it will be exceedingly difficult to paint on something that size in my tiny jammed-to-the-gills studio, because goddamnit, I NEED GIANT WHITE RHINO BUTT!

…right, then.

Ahem. Original is for sale, prints are available–send a note on the price of the original, and you can order prints directly.

Bits ‘n Pieces…

A couple of art bits left over from AC. Both of ’em are for sale–drop a line about pricing!

Skunk-chan beckons you!
Fear my vividness!

In other news, Dragonbreath 1 is now in its 7th printing (!!!) and has a snazzy new spine to match the rest of the series.  And it’s looking like the bread wizard novel may actually have an offer–details as and if anything comes to pass.

And I’m finally committing an act I almost never commit…I’ve realized that I’d hate to see Gorman’s Rabbit sell, so I’m hanging it on my own wall. I can count the pieces on the fingers of one hand that I’ve liked enough to keep, so that’s a rarity worth documenting.

Flame Frog

The flames make him go faster.

Froggy got flames!

A silly little amphibian for the AC art show coming up–started with a digital underpainting, sealed to board, worked over in colored pencil and acrylic ink, then gold leafed like crazy. (Yes, my pants are covered in gold leaf. Also my chair and my desk and bits of my hair.) 6 x 8, original for sale at AC, unless somebody wants to make me the proverbial Offer I Can’t Refuse first.

Gearworld Icon: Badger Skull

Well, look at that…a Gearworld painting! What are the odds?

Apparently all that Dragonbreath painting squeezed down on my brain…or else the bag of skulls that’s been sitting on my desk for WEEKS now is whispering to me, or something. The badger skull here is somewhat broadened to fit the composition I wanted, so we’ll just assume that Gearworld badgers are skeletally slightly different from their North American counterparts.

What the fish is doing there, of course, is anyone’s guess.

12 x 12 mixed media. Prints available, as always–original may or may not be, but drop a line if interested, and I’ll letcha know.

Quail Talk

I am in that hellish authorial hinterland of Waiting To Hear How The Sales Meeting Went. This is the meeting that determines whether they’re actually buying more Dragonbreath, or the bread wizard story, or nothing, or everything, and thus whether I am gainfully employed through next year or at the end of this year, I am pitched back into trying-to-sell-the-next-book mode.

So I’m chewing my nails down to the quick and waiting for The Word.

In the meantime, there is art.

Click the image for print ordering info.

My original plan was to change up the colors and do the piece in red and violet-blue. After about six hours, I over painted most of it what I had in heavy Mars black, stamped “Art is Hard” on it white ink, and threw it into a corner of the studio, hopefully never to be seen again, and did this instead.

Covey

Click image for ordering info

I am bouncing so wildly between styles now that my painting hand is getting whiplash. (Or maybe that’s from using a mattock to get those two viburnum in the ground yesterday.) Freed from Dragonbreath for a few weeks, all the creative backlog is trying to come down the pike at once.  Probably a good thing I’ve got a con next month…

The Boar God’s Gift

Click image for ordering info

“I don’t know,” I said. “So many things I thought were true turned out not to be. And if those things are false, then how can anything be true?”

“I cannot help you,” the boar-god said. “You have no enemies worth trampling, and I cannot remake the world into a shape you understand.” He lowered his head. “All I can give you is one night of sleep. No dreams or demons will approach you. No doubts will yammer in your ear. You need not argue with old lovers inside your head, or tell yourself the stories you already know by heart.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“It is a small thing,” said the boar-god, “but small things are the beginning of courage.”

 

Figured I’d finally start posting at the new blog. It cross-posts, of course, and lord only knows when I’ll get the LJ archives imported, so I might as well start over there…of course, that means I’ll have to wiggle the crossposting until it actually works without committing atrocities to my image files, but it was gonna have to happen sooner or later. And now I can make LJ host my images instead of sending you all over to DA, which I know has been trying to unload Trojans on people now and again.

Fooling around with a new technique–hadn’t planned to, but I was roughing out the image and just kinda kept going. Lord knows, there have been long stretches when I would have been grateful for one night without anxieties yammering in my head…

Prints available in both sizes, as usual.