crowjonah » Drawing

C.S. Lewis

crowjonah — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 21:29:33 +0000

In a now somewhat rare showing of my illustrative side I came up with a piece for the cover of the upcoming issue of Closing Remarks. The task was to do something related to the author of some of my childhood favorites (not just the Chronicles - don't forget the Space Trilogy!) Instead of getting too interpretive I decided to go for the simple, stylized portrait approach.

I was going to put in some work on editing the PSA I've mentioned a couple times, but I lost an hour to unforeseen frantic scurrying about trying to find my ID. There's nothing like a proclivity for shin splints and a propensity to sweat to make for an enjoyable afternoon of retracing steps! All is now well, though, thanks to the unusually friendly employees at my neighborhood CVS. (2 for $4 on Froot Loops and Apple Jacks, holla!)

Hybrid

crowjonah — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 06:10:34 +0000

So it looks like Mondays are going to be for fiction. I know Fridays would be better for alliterative purposes, but something tells me I would be less reliable in keeping with that goal. Here's a lil somethin I doodled and colored up, all within the last few hours, all while being distracted by other things.

People I've spoken to often commiserate with me about how difficult it is to break out of artistic ruts and escape the limitations of one's narrowly defined "style," and in the past I've thought that good solutions are to expand my technical abilities in a medium or expose myself to broader potential sources of inspiration. Today I realized that it often happens as the result of no conscious effort. This drawing has tinges of my go-to tendencies in terms of line quality and shapes, but feels entirely new. I feel similarly about my recent prose which has a bit more breath and agility in it, which I think is partially the result of having spent the last two years writing mostly poetry. Change and growth, while painful, are wonderful when for the better, says Tautologi-Crow.

Supperware

crowjonah — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 22:54:55 +0000

A wonderful friend treated me to one of those paint-your-own-pottery joints and here's what I came up with:

Said friend decorated what we affectionately referred to as a Winnie The Pooh honey pot, but was frigidly rung up as a message mug. It was also a delightful experience in that we got to enjoy overhearing the store's owner's phone conversation with the ceramic company in which she stubbornly insisted (for what must have been an hour) that her operation qualified for free shipping. All sarcasm aside, though, it was quite lovely.

Illustrator Chops

crowjonah — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 09:09:08 +0000

Aside from eating out, watching movies, freaking out about how big a deal twitter is, not being sure how to feel about the new age of internet celebrity, and bearing down the home stretch on the lengthy tales of the Karamazov Bros, I've been practicing up on my vector pen tool.

I'm not sure if I'm going anywhere with this, but I like it. Sure, there are flaws; I ain't no pro, but I even like the grid aesthetic and thin rainbow lines. I'm also making an effort to cover all of my creative bases these days, but am struggling in the process of making any music I'm proud of. Stay tuned.

Just Before Bedtime

crowjonah — Sat, 10 Jan 2009 10:24:02 +0000

The interval between drips from the faulty new faucet are just far enough apart to make Alan Duvall forget that the next drop is coming, but only after he's resolved to stay focused and determine the rate of the leak, only to be dragged away by thought until gravity insists to the liquid that it is time to punctuate the silence. The electricity is out.

His eyelids are not heavy but dry, and a bit sore from their rigorous up and down routine. He has no bed lamp to facilitate his reading himself to sleep, and even if he did he doesn't have a bed by which to place it. Alan is still waiting to hear back from the moving company. The temporary set of sheets didn't have the chance to make it from the washer to the dryer before the power converter just down the street burst and began to emit sparks. Alan is overheated, curled up on his maroon striped couch beneath a quilt that was a gift from his late, great grandmother, and has since built up a mysteriously strong static charge. He is managing to keep his spirits up by acknowledging the consoling miracle that is his ability to fit lengthwise on the couch without having to curl up. For some (perhaps psychological) reason Alan is only able to fall asleep while flat on his back. Aside from the regrettable waste of water his main concerns are his ability to wake up on time without an alarm clock, and whether his refrigerator will start running soon enough not to spoil the twenty six pounds of Orange Roughy in his freezer.