Self-Portait At Dennys

Self-Portait at Dennys, ball-point pen and sausage grease on napkin

THE BISCUIT KING again

The Biscuit King. In Colour. This is my first ever real attempt at watercolour paints so I really didn't know what I was doing with this but it turned out a'iiight I guess. I really don't know why it is of a biscuit king.

THE BISCUIT KING

This is an illustration I am working on as a Christmas gift- the final will be coloured in watercolours and framed. It's okay, the intended recipient does not know this blog exists. Quite likely nobody else does either.

Also in the works: Biscuit King, the rhyming children's book and, eventually, Biscuit King, the motion picture.

Later still: Biscuit King, the novelisation of the movie.

Somebody please get me biscuits for Christmas.

This is how festive I am feeling:

Pizza Tales part four

...terrible

Teepee Man

BORN of Cherokee descent, he was not like the other American Indians. He didn't fit in with the others, and was forever an outcast. When he was young and the children would play Cowboys and Indians, he was always the unsuspecting cowboy getting scalped. Perhaps it was his awkward demeanor. Perhaps it was his pasty white skin. Maybe it was just that he was born with the body of a Teepee... whatever the case he was a Cherokee, a proud warrior. He was... LIMPING TRIANGULAR BUFFALO.

On another note, I can't believe that this isn't a wigwam. I thought, incorrectly, that the two terms were somewhat interchangeable. As it happens, a wigwam is a domed structure. A teepee is the pointy one, like the fella you see above. Teepees have hairy legs, Wigwams' legs are waxed.

I live in blissful ignorance for most of my life, and suddenly everything is turned upside down. Apples are actually oranges. Black is white. Sky is ground. Jeez.

lolhead

Do not be frightened, children- what confronts you is comedy, poignant and sincere. It may take many readings to peel back all it's layers, but persevere and surely you will never want for laughter again, as long as this internet blog page exists.

Wolfin' Out

A single still from an animation I am in the process of creating. There's also a head on another layer, but as a completely-out-of-context image I prefer it headless.

Chances are, after this animation is finished I'll end up preferring specific image stills like this one to the finished product, which has the potential to be a bit of a dud? We shall see. More to come.

The Constant Gardener

So, I recut a trailer for The Constant Gardener as a more literal interpretation of the title. Granted, it isn't brimming with originality, but it was a quite enjoyable experience. Created with Adobe Premierre as part of an assignment at CPIT. It's pretty scrappy. Enjoy.

The movie itself is actually worth a watch- very much so. Plenty of intrigue and British awkwardness from the least charismatic movie protagonist in forever. Drug companies. Bill Nighy. It's got everything, really.

Pizza Tales 3

Alright. Enough is enough. There was never meant to be more than one, I swear.

For those of you that haven't seen an explosion before, yes, that is what they look like.

Prison Kid

So there's this kid, and he is in some sort of prison. I call it Prison Kid. It is hand painted and one-of-a-kind. Available for purchase for only $1000!! Or, $100. Whichever you prefer.

Pizza Tales part two

Pizza Tales part one

The first in a thrilling saga about a Pizza who is also a fugitive.

Beefy Birdy Rainbow Funtimes

An animation created entirely in After Effects as part of a course at CPIT. I can't claim to have adhered too closely to the project brief on this one... nor would I, even if I had.

It has a rainbow? Also: some birds! Also: a birthday! Yours? ...maybe!

That no-good embedding just wouldn't work for me- it keeps cropping out the right-hand side, so it may well be best just to go here.

A Frinky Frinky Dream

I am at a party. Mike exclaims: "I'm not into Frinky Frinky women, not since Elizabeth Rowlf made it so popular. I'm into men that eat men." On a badly photocopied diagram of Greek architecture, Brendon uses cross-hatching to show me exactly where on my face I have chocolate. Pointing at some photocopier noise near the top of the page, I say: "Ha, there's some floating above my head!" Nobody understands my joke, except for Geordie, who doesn't find it very funny. Geordie points at the diagram and shouts, "That's not a Balar! That's an Ios!!" Geordie storms out, angry that such a blatant error could be made on an educational diagram. I wake up. I briefly ponder the significance of this dream. Finding no such discernible significance, I write it down on a scrap of paper and vow to return to it at a later date and pick it apart, desperate to make sense of such a jumbled mess. I google "Elizabeth Rowlf." As far as I can tell, there is no such person.

Sunday

Today, I ate cake in a cup.

So, I drank it, I guess. It was delicious? But not as delicious as cake on a plate, which I've had before. But not today. Today there was only a cup.

Also, I'm not even sure who I am any more. I guess, a cake fan? To be honest, I'm still piecing it all together, from notes I must have left myself in another life, notes left in the various cakes I find hidden about the place. I must have eaten so many notes before I realised the cakes were more than just cakes- they were vehicles. They were- they are- merely the means to deliver myself to myself, to identify truth from speculation. The difference between the two is subtle, but delicious.