Whew, productive morning so far. (And a Monday, at that!) Did roughs for three illos for Hogshead Games, of federal agents, which means I’ve been staring at photos of customs busts and ATF agents all morning. Fortunately, since James is off fixing the company website for his boss, I can play the Pogues loudly, which provides an excellent antidote. (They get the award for one of the only bands I’ve heard that can sing “Whack-a-fol-diddly-ol” without sounding like they oughta be committed.) Got another bite for spot illos–they’ve got a really short deadline, but they pay moderately well, and they give a lot of flexibility to the artists, so that’s a good thing. Working on the last of a set of roughs for the winner of my Frog Auction, my friend Dave, who wants a very cool Alien Frogscape, sort’ve Wayne Barlowe with frogs.
The painted Strep Fairy didn’t come out too well–I forced the background on it, because I felt like having no background would be lazy. And, of course, the background wound up garish and overwhelming the figure. Let that be a lesson to me–do what the painting needs, not what guilt demands. It’s on the “Somedays you get the bear…” pile, and if I get the urge, I’ll see if I can’t fix it once my current irritation passes. You never know. Anyway, the Page of Swords will be better.
Also, got the next Digger up, finally–now that my big summer con-attack is over, hopefullly I can get back to updating regularly. This one sprang out of thinking about how the heart is a weirdly arbitrary organ to assign all emotion to. I mean, it’s a pump. Why not the kidneys? Why don’t we thank people from the bottom of our spleen? Why isn’t there a country song about “Your Cheatin’ Bladder?” (Okay, well, that last might be self explanatory…) And…errr…right.