Since I haven’t posted much since Jonas’s birth, and no art at all in that time, here’s a piece that I still actually like. It’s half-scribble, half detail because I just didn’t want to work on it more than one day. One of the forum members of the Cork Board made a thread in which he said he’d write about any noun or whatever someone posted. “Ashtray” was suggested, and I decided that I was going to draw something based on that after the story was written. The story had nothing to do with the picture, and the picture had nothing to do with the story. Originally done 15 April 2004.
In baby news, babies are babies. True story. This baby o’ mine is so baby-like. Yup. He’s above his birth weight, finally, and eating like a pig. He’s got a habit of pooting up a diaper, and, five minutes after you change it, he poots up another (usually a big poot followed by a little fart of dirtiness). This by itself doesn’t bother me. He’s a baby, he stinks up his pants: that’s what babies do. No, what bothers me about it is that he’ll fart while I’m holding him and just look up at me, directly at my face. If he could talk, I’m sure he’d be asking for praise. He usually gets it, though. This kid has some killer farts. Loud, stinky farts that any beer-gutted NASCAR fan, or sane new parents, would be proud of.
As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, stuff started from a watercolor of the ice angel. On the right you will find the mutilated image. For some reason, after scanning original a decade ago I plonked it into photoshop and inverted it and possible put it through other tortures (filters) as well. Don’t ask me what’s up with that scarf or hair or whatever, because I seriously do not know. No one knows.
