The Reader

 A  4" x 10" acrylic painting on illustration board
I completed recently. A common sight at a
well-known Salem location.

The Reader

Plan 8 From the Outer Ether Poster

A couple of weeks ago an old friend of mine contacted me and asked me if I could design a poster for an upcoming live performance.  Every once in a while I will get a text or e-mail from a friend who remembers that I am a graphic designer, and maybe finds themselves in a time or budget pinch, or just don't know where to turn. 

Usually these projects are duds, but not in this case. 

My friend Brian Rust and his "Post Meridian Radio Players" were not only doing a live reading of the script for "Plan 9 From Outer Space" for a Halloween weekend production in Somerville, but were also going to be performing his original script for "Plan 8 From the Outer Ether". He needed a poster to promote it STAT. I jumped at the chance.

Since time and budget was of the essence, I had to work with what was readily available for images, mostly culled off of the internet and assembled in Photoshop. I did it in one night. 

Perhaps you think it looks like it was done in one night, but that is not a bad thing in this case as it is Plan 9 we are talking about, (possibly the worst film ever made) and the air of general cheesiness was exactly what Brian was looking for. He was happy, and I really enjoyed working on it. If only more projects were this fun!

Mermaid Doodles

A couple of mermaid-related doodles in pen & ink and watercolor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Divorced Guy's Star Trek Club

An illustration done this year, one of the worst years of my life. I am going through an extremely painful divorce, and have two close male friends; one who is recently divorced, and the other, in the process of getting divorced. We all share a love of Star Trek, which we bonded over years ago, watch together, and which has been a welcome refuge from all the crap going on in our lives.
The idea is based on a photo taken of me siting in the captain's chair on the bridge of the Enterprise, at the official Star Trek Original Series Set Tour, in Ticonderoga New York. https://www.startrektour.com/,  which was one of the happiest days of my life. Ironically, I went with my soon to be ex-wife, who took the picture.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I made the above sticker with the final artwork in Adobe Illustrator with "Divorced Guy's Star Trek Club" and more importantly "To Boldly Go".
I have not been producing much artwork this year, as like a lot of people, my stress levels have been high, and my mental health has not been great, but I am very proud of the fact that I was able to bang this out, in spite of how I feel, and that I have not lost my sense of humor. 

The final artwork is 7.5" x 7.5" and was done in Prismacolor marker, and colored pencil on Bristol board.

Original Artwork

Pilgrim Monument, Provincetown

 Recent painting of the Pilgrim monument in Provincetown, MA. From a photo I took on a winter trip to Cape Cod. 5.75" x 14" acrylic on a primed wooden panel.

Art Journal Evolution

 I have kept a sketchbook/journal, since I was in High School.  Over the years, the format of these books has evolved. Here is a record of that evolution.

Large bound sketchbook

Hard-bound 8.5" x 11" sketchbook with fancy cover

 

Typical spread in a large , college journal

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My first regular sketch journal was a large, 8.5" x 11", hardcover-bound book. Rather than just the drawings that would fill my regular sketchbooks,  I would fill the journal with my written ideas, notes, scribbles, poems, musings, clippings, photos, rough sketches, and color studies.

I kept one handy all through high school and college.
They were largely private, never shared with strangers, rarely shared with anyone else, even friends, except in small, select peeks.  This was because the contents were often, raw, unfiltered, autobiographical. That was the point, a kind of incubator for ideas, not a display for public consumption and judgement. However, being large, and visible, and possibly because they were restricted, they were always objects of intense curiosity and interest. 

For that reason, after college, I switched to a smaller, pocket-sized, format. 

Fat Lil' Pocket Notebooks.

Fat Lil' Pocket Notebooks were delightfully chunky

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I first gravitated towards Mead, 5-star brand, Fat, Lil', Pocket Notebooks I found at the local Five & Dime. They were cheap, spiral bound, and at about 3.5" x 5.5", 200 pages, almost square, with a nice heft.  A lot of friends asked me why don;t you just buy a Moleskin sketchbook and use that?  Moleskins were not exactly cheap, and always felt a little pretentious, like they were made to be the "official" artists sketchbook. I wanted something that felt more like me, and would not inhibit me, by making me worry about how expensive the paper was, or creating a sense of expectations. Like even your ideas had to be good enough to be worthy of a Moleskin. The Lil' Pocket notebooks were delightfully common and low-grade,  containing pulpy, ruled paper.  You could put the stupidest, most outlandish ideas on that paper, and not feel guilty at all.  I drew in ballpoint or Micron ink pen. If I was going to draw something more elaborately,  I would sometimes draw on yellow sticky notes and then paste them into the pages of the notebook.

I would fill them fairly rapidly, about one every two months or so.

Over time, it turned out that the paper, really was a little too crappy, and started to yellow after only a few years, so I started looking for something just a bit better in quality.

Carolina Pad

Carolina Pads, cheap, lined paper

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One day I was visiting Bob Slate Stationers, in Cambridge, MA, and I found a little, leather-bound memo pad holder that took a standard Carolina Pad, 2.5" x 4" 50-sheet pads. That was the standard for years. But I grew tired of working on lined paper, and the unlined paper was usually of an inferior grade, plus the nice leather holder completely disintegrated...so back to the drawing board. (so to speak).

Caliber Scratch Pad

A one quarter pad, roughly 4" x 2.75" 100 pages

Next, I started making my own pads. I would buy a Caliber, 4" x 6", 200 Sheet, scratch pad pad of unlined, plain-white, decent-quality paper, and would cut it roughly in half, making (4) 4" x 2.75" pads. The paper was thick enough to take watercolors, colored pencil, acrylic, and even some marker, ( if I put a piece of paper underneath to keep it from soaking through).

I would back them with cardboard, and sew the sheets together by hand. I also took some scrap leather, and made what I call the "Frankenpad". A custom-made, brown- leather pad holder. I carried this for years, until it too fell apart.

A half pad, 3.5" x 4", 200 pages

I also got tired of the small, and rather cramped drawing space.
I have always had tiny handwriting, and really like drawing and painting tiny things, but I wanted more space, and the hand-made pads were, rather time-consuming to make, so next came the 3.5" x 4", chunky, 200 sheet, Half pad.

 

A full pad, 4" x 6" 200 pages.

More space meant more elaborate art

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally, with the year long Covid-19 pandemic upon us, the need for a pocket-sized pad diminished. No one was going to see me out sketching anywhere anyway, so what was the point? I just went with the full  4" x 6" pad.

Back to the large bound sketchbook

Back to the future with the large 8.5" x 11" format

In June of last year I started working on an outline for a graphic novel. I found that the complexity of the frames and the need for readable dialogue, meant that smaller pads no longer cut it, so I changed format again, returning to the original, large, bound-sketchbook once again. Everything eventually comes full-circle I guess.

So...who cares?
Other than my graphic design work, these journals and sketchbooks represent the bulk of whatever my final artistic output will be. I have only ever been an occasional painter, and I lack the discipline and focus to ever have been either a successful illustrator, or a full-time painter. (My attention span is too short). But I have always, always kept a sketchbook. So this is it. My great, or not-so-great legacy. Tiny sketchbook after tiny sketchbook, packed full of tiny drawings, and crazy ideas, and a little bit of who I am, and how I think. 

Maybe they'll end up in a landfill somewhere. Maybe they'll be "discovered" long after I am dead, and end up in a museum. Who knows. Probably landfill.

The Art Scribble

 

We had our own logo and everything!

Back in September of 2019, a small group of artists gathered together for the last time. It was the last "Art Scribble" and the end of an era.

In 2012, my wife and I started attending a new church based in Arlington, but that had just started a church plant in Salem. Our old church had recently fallen apart after our pastor left to work for a non-profit, and several key members of the church leadership followed.

The new church, Highrock Northshore, was meeting in the Salem YMCA, which was only about a block away from where we were living at the time, and had been recommended to us by friends from our old church, who said it might appeal to us because it was "Artsy".
That turned out to be true. We discovered in short order that Highrock had a great interest in and commitment to, supporting and utilizing the arts.
Within a couple of months we were part of a Creative Arts Group, comprised of artists who were members of the church, to discuss ways we could use our art to help the mission of the church. My interest in the arts was appreciated so much, that when the church opened an office on Pickering Wharf, the staff set aside a desk and part of the office for me. I felt very welcomed. About year and a half after that, in the fall of 2014, my wife and I started running a monthly gathering called the Art Scribble.

This was a once-a month, Saturday gathering, usually held in the church offices, where artists from the church community could hang out, and make art together. You would bring whatever you were working on at the time: writing, drawing, knitting, painting, and share what you were working on, discuss art and whatever else was on your mind, and occasionally, you would make field trips to local museums, or just outside to draw in nature. It was all very casual. There was no preaching or agenda, other than to share art and art-making with each other. It was never attended in large numbers, (I believe the most we ever had at one meeting was 14 people). At one point we had 28 people on the e-mail list. Many liked to be invited every month, but never came. We never really pushed attendance, as space in the office was somewhat limited, and if we had too many people, it would be difficult to actually make art. We were kid-friendly, but did not have childcare per se. We also, did not offer instruction, or lessons. It was a time for artists to share, but not instruct. But even with these limitations we did have a core group of about 5-6 that made it almost every time. In retrospect, these gatherings were some of my favorite times making, and discussing art. 

That was a good day. L-R: Kerrie James, Amy Harkins, Kara Jade Fuller, Amy Courage, George Courage, Kirsten Borne

We ran the Scribble for seven years. Inevitably, the novelty wore off, and people started to drift away. Some were college students who graduated and moved away, some had children and other family commitments to attend to. Others found that Saturday was too precious a day to give up, even once a month.  Some felt pressure to have something to show at the meetings, and felt guilty if they didn't have anything. We occasionally added a new member, but we were starting to lose more than we gained.
Towards the end, it started to become a drag for us. I was dealing with the sudden death of one of my best friends, and the serious health crisis of another.  

We would set aside our Saturday for the Scribble, and only one or two people, or worse, no one, would show up. We never required a commitment, which in retrospect, may have been a mistake. At any rate, after a particularly long run of non-attendance, it was too much, and we officially decided to end it.

The announcement was met with some regret, but everyone knew that there was a kind of inevitability to it's ending. It was lovely for a season, and then, as is always the case with something lovely, it ended.

Below is the last Artscribble meeting. The core group is in attendance.  There was an air of melancholy and loss, but also of fun, and gratefulness for the time we had. 

L-R: Amy Courage, Levi Nelson, Kerrie James, Kirsten Borne. (I am unseen and taking the picture)

Epilogue: One of the regular members, Walker Simons, agreed to take over running the Scribble going forward. It has been difficult to get people to attend, especially during the Covid-19  pandemic, but I am happy that he has taken this on, and hopeful that he will not only be able to continue this tradition, but hopefully expand it, as well.