Pohler

This is Amy Pohler. Well, it's a fairly reasonable caricature of her as a clown because...well, duh--she's hilarious. Love her. Yeah, it's a little cliche...I mean, how often has she probably heard the phrase "funny lady Amy Pohler"? At least twelve times, I'm sure. Anyway, the point is, she's funny as all get-out, and sometimes when I'm playing around, I like to draw caricatures of people I love who have awesome faces. ...So there you have it. BAM!

The Northern Order of Royal Mooses

This is Baron von Hopschtetter from the Royal Order of Northern Mooses...or was it the Northern Society of Royal..uh...Well, anyway. I have a friend who's very interested in secret societies: the Illuminati, the Skulls, the Masons, etc...most of which I hope to imagine is a great deal of inaccurate legendry and nonsensical mumbo jumbo. Still, I find it fantastically funny, the little traditions and such. Like the secret handshake and the silly hats. This fellow is performing his version of "the severed thumb gag." I've added a little digital enhancement to his background to attempt to do him justice, only because we're still hotel-bound, and I'm unable to paint him properly. But I will, one day...I will. (and yes, I realize more than one moose are "moose." Which is why I find "mooses" funny.)

He's Back...And He's HUNGRY...

Here's the reanimated head of Gandhi come back to take over the world's food storage supplies. Maybe his huge metal torso is a silo for storing grain, corn, mashed potatoes and...doritos. 'Cause he'd be hungry, right? I know he's a vegetarian, so maybe most fast food dives would be safe. Not that it'll make things any less weird, but if you need some help, please see the previous post for an explanation of what the heck is going on.

Rebel Without a Body

Yes, this is the reanimated head of James Dean. I was thinking about the rumor that Walt Disney's head is frozen somewhere...but for what purpose? To take over the world with his timeless classic animations? Will his robotic body be equipped with speakers to bombard his enemies with repeat playings of "It's a Small World"?

So I imagined a few more of the world's "legends.." James Dean, Mahatma Gandhi, Marilyn Monroe...what if they were reanimated in the future, attached to robotic bodies and laser eyes, and were sent to TAKE OVER THE WORLD??? ..Well, that's what's going on here. It's just a sketch, since we're still hotel-bound and I don't have access to my acrylics. But I have a series, and I decided to watercolor a sketch or two.

Ground Control To Major Tom

I was thinking about how in those old movies the women were never really employed. They had little hobbies and whatnot, but they never really DID anything..you know, sign of the times, and all that. But wouldn't it be funny to still try and play that dreamy, lounging, bonbon-eating, lying in vain, damsel-in-distress female role all while still maintaining some job like, oh I dunno, say ASTRONAUT? It's an alien concept. Yes, I said alien. Maybe that's why she only has four fingers.

I've Been A Little Distracted.

Whoo, lordy lordy--it HAS been a while. Since I last wrote, I had a bun in the oven. Now, the toaster's popped, and I've got a glorious little happy healthy pop-tart! She's amazing (despite the fact that she hates to sleep). She's almost ten months old, so as you might imagine, I've had my hands sort of, well, full. She's inspired me, however, to do something I haven't done in a while: finish a project. I have this uncanny ability to talk myself out of something before I even start it, mostly out of fear, intimidation, and insecurity. That's not the kind of example I want to set, is it? I think not. So I created a resolution: to complete an ABC book for her by the time she learns her ABCs. Easy enough, right? But with an upcoming move, a baby, and a full-time job, time is very limited. But I'm working on it, and here is my letter A.

Long Time, No See

Okay, so it's been a while. I think it'll be okay, though, since no one seems to ever read this blog. I don't mind. I didn't do it for you. So since my last post, I've learned I've a gummi bear growing in my tummy. I find it exciting and terrifying all at the same time. I've promised myself I wouldn't start drawing only cutesy baby things. I don't think that will be a problem. In saying that, I dug up this little doodle to remind me to not repeat past sins...When I was little and would visit my grandmother, she would take me to her hairstylist, who would instantly clip my hair shorter, and give me a perm. What did I know? I thought it was "fancy" to go to a stylist. As a result, I perpetually was confused for a boy in many, many school districts. Ah, well. If I screw anything up for my gummi bear, I can always go with this: It Builds Character...

Lock and Load

Somewhere, my husband is running through the woods, hiding, hunting, and doing his best not to get smacked around. It's inevitable, of course, but it's all good training. I miss a lot of things about the army. Some of my favorite times were spent running in the woods, ambushing the enemy, or getting eaten by mosquitoes in a shelter half. There were times when I was dirty and sweaty, in full gear, and loving every minute of it. I loved playing army. I miss it...but at least now I get to live vicariously through him. I hope he knows I'm thinking of him while he's out there...

Through the Rear Window

This is a new style I'm trying out, after my recent purchase of a natural fibers-filled sketchbook, their dark pages begging to me to try something new. I start with my regular ballpoint pen sketch, then take a white mess of acrylics to highlight, and sometimes darken the darks with black washes. Not extremely difficult, but fun nonetheless.

On a side note, I can say that even after watching hours of YouTube videos on digital painting, I'm fairly confident that some of what I do I could replicate digitally in Photoshop. But the heart's just not there. I know. I've tried. For me, nothing replaces the feel of ballpoint pen on paper. It's like my love/hate relationship with digital books. The idea is fantastic...but for me, nothing beats turning an actual page.

"My Cow Is Not Pretty, But It's Pretty To Me"

This is a closeup of my portrait of David Lynch. I featured it on my illustration website at micaangela.com because I needed to get some portraiture in my portfolio. I wanted to paint someone with an interesting face, and although many people come to mind, David Lynch's face was always fascinating to me. He always seems to look simultaneously terrified, exhausted, deep in thought, and tickled pink. I think I made him look a little too angry, though. He seems like quite a strange dude, but it works for me. I used to be glued to Twin Peaks--it was the first series I actually followed. So I loved painting his face! Some faces are just so fun to paint; their faces are like roadmaps...Tom Waits, Steve Buscemi, Orson Welles, and Leonard Cohen come to mind. Neat faces...Neat. Big fan.

The Iceman Cometh

This is a celebratory post, in honor of my best friend and sweetheart, Matthew. I married him a hundred years ago, and love him immensely. Today he learned that he's been accepted to flight school! He was one of only 50-odd people selected out of over 200 applicants, and yet I think somewhere in his head he believes they made a mistake. I, however, have seen him in action as an NCO in the army, and the dude's GOT it, whether he knows it or not. Hopefully, this school will make clear to him the great potential that everyone else already sees.

So there it is. A budding pilot-to-be; a dream he's been aiming for for ages. And along with the changes in lifestyle, location, and career, this means many exciting new twists and turns in the coming year, for both of us. I'm very proud of him!

...This also means I'm going to have to rent "Top Gun" again, as my "Maverick" references are very limited. Congratulations, babe!

Just Like Bingo Pajama

If you've ever read Tom Robbins' "Jitterbug Perfume" you'll know of the tale of Bingo Pajama, whose thoughts were so pure that he eminated a perfume to which bees were drawn, resulting in a crown, of sorts, made entirely of bees. This is my take on that premise; A woman (whose bodily rhythms are said to be influenced by the cycles of the moon) whose inner glow attracts moths to her, competing with even the moon itself. Moths, by the way, are attracted to flame because of an inner working navigating itself into position based on its relativity to the moon. In any case, I just thought it was a fun idea. Moths make me smile.

Sometimes You're the Bird....Usually, You're the Windshield

I have another Moleskine sketchbook in which I'm keeping a collection of illustrated stories from my childhood. Here is one such story: We lived in Liech, Germany, in a small apartment on the second floor of an old building, above a bakery. Every morning we woke to the fantastic smell of broetchen fresh from the ovens, which would rise up the steep steps to my family's apartment. (Once, I took two steps down those stairs, and tumbled all the way down them, like in a cartoon.) One wintery day, my mother asked me to take the garbage downstairs to the dumpster behind the bakery. On the way, I looked down to find a shiny 5-mark coin, lying face up and magestic in a pile of sidewalk snow. Like accepting a gift from the skies, I excitedly plucked it from the snow, ecstatic about the prospect of my newfound fortune. I stood and smiled, reflecting on my luck. Suddenly I felt a jolt...something wet...and discovered at that moment, to my great displeasure, that a bird had pooped directly in the middle of my head. ...That's always been my luck.

With Your Feet in the Air and Your Head on the Ground

I've been drawing buried people lately, covered up in sand. I don't know why, but for some reason, it's very relaxing. Plus I have a thing for sand crabs. I used to lie on the beach in Hawaii, no one around for miles and miles and watch these little sand crabs pop out, run across the sand, and pop back down. For some reason they, along with the ocean waves, made for a soothing little soundtrack. In any case, I thought I'd do a series of these, since they're so fun. I might need more wall space.

It's My Personality...

I've always heard the urban legend about the "tragic" fates of the cast of "Our Gang." According to Snopes (which I consider the be-all, end-all of urban legend issues), there WERE a few tragedies, but most of the cast's deaths were pretty uneventful in the whole scheme of things. Stymie died of heart failure at age 56, Spanky died of a heart attack at age 54, Porky died of cancer at 72, and Darla died of hepititis at 57, to name a few.
Alfalfa was always my favorite, though, and his end WAS a little unusual. Evidently, he worked as a bartender and a hunting guide, and ended up getting shot at age 31 from a dispute over $50. I was just thinking how even though Alfalfa was an adult by then, probably trying desperately to live down his childhood superstardom, I can't help but still think of him as the loveable little dude with the "personality" sticking straight out of his head.

In The Land of the Blind...

This is an oldie. I've got it framed in my living room. I was thinking about vanity, and how much time people spend worrying about looks and beauty, when there are people out there who can't just slap on some lipstick, get a new 'do and feel like a supermodel. Something like having no jawbone kinda puts a damper on the whole male model gig. I think that's why I liked Palahniuk's "Invisible Monsters" so much. Who are you when looks REALLY aren't a factor?

Don't They Ever Stop Migrating?

This, if you can't tell, is Ms. Tippi Hedren in Hitchcock's "The Birds." I actually did see this movie, and it might just be my generational bias, but I found it quite silly. I couldn't help it. Like most older movies, I'm sure it was horrifying at the time. I just couldn't help but giggle. I tried to amp up the silliness by using the ever-popular (and quite sily) M-shaped birds.

In A Van Down By The River

Poor Chris Farley. What can you say? Too much booze, drugs, and hooker's'll really take a toll on a man, I guess. I used to love him on SNL and in Tommy Boy, before Adam Sandler made memorable movies, and before Phil Hartman was shot. There was an awesome SNL skit of a bunch of 'roid ragers with wifebeater shirts on, acne, and teeny tiny fake legs, where Farley kept saying, "Who's with me, fellas?" and no one would respond. He was hilarious. I think one mistake I made was looking at closeup photos of Farley dead and bloated in his apartment. Now, alongside the memory of the burley Chippendale's chubby dancer, I get a sick image of him dead on the floor. ...In hindsight, maybe that was a bad idea.

And Now for Something Colorful

I haven't posted in a while...Way too much going on! But here I am, and I was aware of the lack of color in my recent posts, not to mention being tired of looking at Tara's vacant smile, so here's an oldie but goodie. It's a children's book picture for a story that exists only in my head, about a pompous princess who assumes the world revolves around her. If you'll notice, though, you can only see the backs of the heads of the people in the crowd, as she smiles away. (I really like that hand, though.)

Wardrobe Malfunction My Butt

This is Tara Reid. Remember her "wardrobe malfunction" at Cipriani's in New York City for PDiddy's birthday party? I mean, she's just smiling away for the paparazzi cameras with her entire boob hanging out. There was a lot of talk about that bare boob looking like a botched surgery job, so I imagined this franken-boob. Now maybe it's because I usually only wear tshirts and jeans, but I've never in my life had as many problems with "coverage" as celebrities do today! I could see if it happens once in your life, but 4 times in a month? I mean, is it that hard to get out of a car discreetly--or wear underwear, for that matter? The only explanation is that either these stars are completely delusional about their wardrobes, or they're doing it to get attention. Either way, it's hilarious.