mosquito

it's winter and the bugs are gone but i can't help thinking about the little blood suckers that annoy me so much during warm summer nights. maybe it is the plethora of vampire movies and books and graphic novels and merchandise that inundate the periphery of my world. maybe it is all the miniaturized electronics humming and buzzing their signals through the ether. i don't know. i have a niece who studies the little bastards way down in louisiana - which is very interesting - and so it seems appropriate to give mosquitos the fishbone treatment...serves them right.

ol' vector the injector

mz. bludschnozzle

pre-history

if there is such a thing.

a sketch from the sketchbook of early fish, when fishbone had a definite emphasis on "bone"and the murky past of evolution seemed to dictate that every living thing was heavily armored and voracious. this guy, drawn from my own psycho-memory, patrols the primordial river during the day and slithers up the muddy banks at night and howls at the moon.

the far end of fishbone lake

at the far end of fishbone lake there's an inlet that is magical to see on warm fall days when the sun is shining and sky is full of white clouds. it is also an odd place to visit because the forest seems to crowd against the calm water like a gigantic dragon crouching for a drink and the changing colors of the trees last unusually long before the winter. it is a place that holds you close to the beating heart of the northern woods.

at the far end, there is only one way out, the way you came in. for if you enter the forest here, you are swallowed up and forgotten. never to return.

how it works

to be honest, i don't know how it starts and i'm always surprised how it turns out. there are times i wish it made perfect sense but most of the time i'm glad it doesn't. what i do know is that fishbone lake is a part of who i am, a place that my imagination takes me, the place that i really want to get back to when i'm away. i can't explain it but i guess you know what i'm talking about.

hiding in plain site

it is way into the fall on the fishbone but that doesn't mean that small fry can take it easy. a little shade. a little camouflage. and always check your six. that's the way you survive into the next season.  you can feel change in air, see it on the trees, and smell the crisp, earthy crumble of leaves piling on the forest floor. in no time at all autumn will be nothing but a memory.

monster

as if the world isn't scary enough, we celebrate those things that go bump in the night - or in this case, kersplash in the dark.

distant recall

for whatever reason it felt good to post some old work so i thought i'd show just a few more and be done with it.

myth of religion

in a way, these images represent some aspect of my life, or at least what i was thinking about during that time, but it's almost like looking at some one else's work.

low note

...and yet, i'm part of it. like looking at a old photo and reminding myself that i was there and then, trying to recall the moment.

death

i think i was trying to make sense of the world and in the process create my own mythology.

garden god

whew! i feel better already.

way back when

coming home

i haven't posted in a while...no excuse except that i've been preoccupied with other matters and have not been dedicating the necessary time to visiting fishbone lake. this morning, with coffee in hand and a quiet day unfolding, i started going through some old work - i mean really old work that i can't even remember drawing. here's a taste....

dialog

kind of weird stuff, huh?

bad batch

i think i drew these with a pilot razor point...

me & lucky no. 13

and yes, i used sign my drawings with the name, armou. but that's a whole 'nother story.

spell checker

one more for the road...

way finder

beneath the surface they lie

a while back i made this little drawing because i was thinking about how some people behave like sharks in the sense that their humanity and predatory instincts are mashed together into a smiling, self-serving, mystical creature.

lately i've been thinking that these same people are completely aware that their behavior is destructive and ruthless; they just don't have a problem with it. 

speed demon

returning to the serenity and timeless beauty of fishbone lake after some time away. i feel as if all my energy has been siphoned off and consumed by the relentless need of others. with nothing returned and nothing promised. i wish i could just stay here for the next couple of months. watching the trees change into their fall colors. listening to the world quiet down in preparation for winter. and feel the life around me thriving; the lake restoring to me my sense of direction and purpose. 

land meets water

what? it could happen...

deviation

casting an eye away from the fresh water of fishbone lake, i'm taking a few moments to consider the big salty uncle and some of it's exotic inhabitants. in particular, i spent a few hours this weekend working on a commission for a friend who has a thing for sea dragons.

hope you like them, chris

the way of the world

the last moments of ms. bludschnozzle

it was a day not unlike any other in ms. bludschnozzle's short life. find a warm-blooded mammal. suck it's blood. rest and digest. then start all over again. it was the type of life that made perfect sense to her and she enjoyed the simplicity of the ritual. as far as she could tell, she was happy and one happy day blended into another. but on this afternoon, after she'd just finished digesting some particularly delicious black bear's blood, which had the sweet taste of wild blueberries and meadow flowers, she left her perch under the leaf of a birch tree and went looking for her next meal. the sun was setting and her senses heightened, reaching out for the sensation of heat and warm breath. she left the forest and crossed the shoreline, flying low above the water's surface, wondering if she could find that bear again, when the water exploded below her.

process

mighty mike develops

cluttered

one of the most annoying things for me is when my workspace becomes less of a workspace and more of a shelf. my current workspace is an old drawing table that i bought more than 25 years ago. i have yet to find a suitable set of shelves or cabinet to store all my implements of construction and so, as you can see, everything lives on top of the drawing table. this mess drives me crazy. wouldn't it be cool if someone invented a tool chest for artists? i imagine something like a multi-drawer tower on wheels similar to what professional car mechanics use but made more out of wood than metal and with old-timey craftsmanship and accents.

mighty mike

when my son was little, i'd tell him stories about mighty mike the musky, the biggest, baddest fish in the lake. in the stories, mighty mike was so big and so ferocious that no one could catch him and those who happened to hook him would lose not only their lure, but sometimes their rod and reel, and on occasion, a few lost their boat. no one knew just how big mighty mike was or had any idea when he'd strike next. the most unfortunate victim of mighty mike's escapades was frank johnson. everybody called him old man johnson because he was an old coot who'd lived on the lake since he was a young man. he'd built a cabin on the south end and he'd spend most of his summer days tooling around the lake in his little aluminum boat fishing. old man johnson had hooked mighty mike more times than anyone and it seemed he had suffered more than anyone as a result. to his friends, frank was an expert fisherman and he claimed that he had no desire to catch mighty mike. in fact, he was only interested in catching walleye and perch. none the less, mighty mike and old man johnson seemed destined to do battle. some say that their lives were so intertwined because frank had moved to the lake and started fishing it the day mighty mike was born.

this drawing is of a young mighty mike before he started wreaking havoc with unsuspecting fisherman and just before he met frank johnson for the first time.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

o dog of wonder and delight

now you run through the woods and fields all day
and bark at the moon all night
rest in peace my friend
i miss you

sparkinator rex (aka sparky) jan 2000 - jun 2010 what a great dog

momento

a couple of years ago i picked up one of those small black sketchbooks and, using a cheap felt-tip pen, started making little fish drawings. the fish always had noses, i don't know why. then, after a frustrating period of creative angst, i tossed the sketchbook in a drawer and forgot about it. well..i found it the other day while cleaning out the garage. i thought i'd put a couple of these drawings out there in the world so that they don't get lost again.

night time is the right time

when darkness falls the night feeders come to the surface to contemplate the stars and hunt in the moonlight. they see you but you don't see them. not to worry though. when daylight comes, they melt back into the depths and dream.

tiny island

a quiet day on the fishbone. for most of the day, i was doing everything i could to avoid the drawing table. no other reason than being lazy and easily distracted. i've heard from several good friends in the last few days, people i don't get to be with very often, and it makes me want to sit around going through old photographs and staring out the window. finally, i made another pot of coffee and sat myself down. what came to mind was tiny island. a small outcrop of rocks and pines and brush. not easily visited but always intriguing. if i knew how, i'd put this drawing on a 3D animation turntable so that i could rotate around it whenever i wanted to.

allure

this drawing is based on a lure (a-lure..allure..., get it? ha! oh, never mind) called a bass-oreno. the ol' bass-oreno doesn't mess around. i never felt right about using this lure because it seemed too much, too mean. the bass-oreno mostly lay at the bottom of my tackle box, getting scuffed and tangled up with other stuff. but the name is fun, right? just for today, try attaching "-oreno" to the end of someone's name when you see them - as in, "it's the ol' steve-oreno" or "what's the dan-oreno up to?"

evolution

today was a beautiful day. dark rain-filled clouds rolled across the sky, prodded by a cold spring wind. the sun broke through intermittently and pushed the colors of the forest to maximum for a minute or two, and then winked out suddenly, like a giant search light, turning off, panning across the landscape, and then turning on again in the distance.

i decided to do a little work on the heron - try to figure him out. he's there in my thoughts but i don't think i've captured him, yet. i drew on a smoother paper than i have been using so it had a different feel to it. nice but different. this heron is a hunter, a fisherman, and a loner. he probably speaks a language that only other heron's understand but he doesn't speak much. he watches and waits. waiting for movement below the surface. waiting forever.

blue blue heron

there's a new character on the fishbone that i'm thinking about...a blue heron. i'm going to have to research this bird more before i can work him up in color. i've never been closer than half a football field away from one and i've never seen more than one in the same place at the same time. this sketch is just an idea, not a study. i'm sure there are important details that i'm missing. eventually, what i would really like to do is make a tall, full-color stand-up that can stand on my desk or the fireplace mantel. so, i have to learn more about what a blue heron looks like and how to make a stand-up. i'll let you know what happens.

fish fry friday

it's friday! and you know what that means...fish.

i know what you're thinking...now he's going to talk about his favorite beer battered fish fry recipe served hot with salty fries and extra cold, cheap beer. friends sitting around the kitchen table after a long week of work. june bugs banging on the back porch screen door as evening turns to night and the scent of pine trees lingers in the air.

but you'd be wrong. that's not the topic. friday is the day to remember to tell your children the bedtime story about the mean fish lurking along the tall grassy shallows of fishbone lake. perfectly camouflaged and moving slowly through the edges of shadow. sharp teeth gleaming. red eyes searching. he's highly protective of his territory so be careful and don't forget about him. otherwise he might get you.

now go to sleep.

from the sketchbook

frank frazetta (1928 - 2010)

his dramatic work inspired me and this morning, upon learning of his passing, i find myself looking at his work online and considering my own drawings. while it may not be apparent in my current work, i like to think there's some frazetta there.

here's a drawing from an old sketchbook

close to the truth

sometimes i like a certain area of a drawing more than the entire drawing. here's a detail that i think makes a good drawing all by itself so that's all i'm going to show you.

dardevle

i remember a cluster of three lakes that my dad and i would visit that were like a chain of beautiful worlds, each one composed of new shapes and mysteries; each one an independent ecosystem and yet bound to the other in some way ancient. dad called them the three sisters. to get from one lake to another, we'd have to find the overland paths that connected them and portage - literally carry our canoe and gear through the woods - to the next lake. once, in the farthest reaches of the smallest sister, i hooked a big fish with my then favorite lure but after a brief fight, the line snapped and the fish and the lure were gone. losing that lure was a tragedy at the time but now i enjoy the thought that it is still there, resting in those clear, cold waters.

little fish, big pond..so what?

heading north away from the drawing table for a few days.  i'll take along a sketchbook, a sharpie, a couple of microns, and a no. 2 pencil. it's a challenge to keep drawing while i'm on the road - i'm out of my comfort zone. i'd like to get past that and be able to sketch in public or even make a drawing with someone looking over my shoulder.

big daddy d-fly

i drew this baby last night and just had to share it.

a crappie process

every drawing starts out as a possible disaster. i think i know what i'm doing in the beginning but about halfway into it i start losing it. i've learned not to despair at this critical juncture and to keep on working it, to keep on scrubbing and modeling to see if i can save it. most of the time i can accept the results.

i wish i had the pro chops to lay it down, from start to finish, and know that my hand, eye and brain were in perfect synchronicity. some day. some day.

here is a crappie. a happy, go lucky fish, who likes the shallow, sandy shoals. he is based on a friend i had in high school who was funny and full of crap. i decided to etch out a line drawing first (not always my first choice) and to bring the color afterwards. comic book style.