Shadow 243

Okay. This is the last pet pic. I swear. I don't even like the little fleabags, anyway.

Bat 250

I'd be remiss in not giving Bat equal air time to her brother Wolf.

Wolf 258

Photography's not my gig, but sometimes a shot spurs a thought that won't let go until I do something to air it out.

Dammit

I toyed with the idea of calling this one 'Bad Timing', but ended up being a bit more blunt about an artist's predicament when bereft of their muse.

Battle of Wits

Any artist who's faced off against a blank piece of paper with no clue about what to draw should identify with this sketch. Ironically, lacking any drawing concept for a particular project spurred my imagination to create this image in vivid detail one night as I slept. When I woke up the next day, I simply transferred it to paper. Imagination beats rock, scissors or blank paper every time.

Butt Can

This started out as a quick sketch to thank my sister for emptying out the coffee can I use as an ashtray in the backyard, a task that could easily qualify for that TV show 'Dirty Jobs'. However, I've found that if I spend more than three minutes working on a cartoon or a sketch, I become inexorably drawn into fleshing it out to create a full fledged drawing, slipping into my own little world as I osbessively attempt to mirror the image in my mind with the lines and color on the paper. Maybe there's a pill I can take to avoid the compulsion, but if there were, would I really want to take it?

ER Sketches

I ran across these sketches I did in the ER and figured I'd toss them into the internet rather than the trash, although sometimes I'm not really clear on the distinction between the two. I was in severe pain when I did the first one of a nurse's little girl from a pic on her cell and rather comfortably medicated when I drew the private eye guy. Bat said she liked the one of the little girl better and that I do better work when I'm in agony. I slapped her.

Studies in Pain

This is an obviously unfinished drawing I did in the hospital after being continually annoyed by the beeping of my IV pump. Those of you unfortunate enough to be familiar with these artificial appendages know how fussy they are about your movements and how irritating their persistent beeps can be as they escalate in volume until a nurse arrives to silence them. My concept here was to depict an ailing assassin who's been betrayed by the unpredicatable and grating beeps of his IV and killed by his victim's bodyguards before he can complete his mission.
I'd still like to complete this at some point, but I thought I'd post it as is for the moment.