New Website Up and Running

My first toe-dipping into web design has turned into a full-fledged cannonball into the deep-end of electronic commerce. The web site for Aveena Natural Cleaning Services is now live, and aside from a few CSS tweaks to accommodate the fussiness of MS Internet Explorer, I think it's looking pretty good. If you see anything wonky, please leave a comment so I can get it fixed.

I'm happy to report that the client is pleased. And that's especially important because I'm married to her.

Now, back to the drawing board.

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Craft and Commerce

"In commerce, the musician makes music. In craft, music makes the musician."

That's a quote from one of my favorite guitarists, Robert Fripp from King Crimson. It's always refreshing to hear musicians speak about their profession in thought-provoking ways rather than the usual, "How hard to we rock? SO F***ING HARD!!" Anyway, Mr. Fripp wrote it in a short blurb he called, "Craft" which appeared in the May 2006 issue of Guitar Player magazine. He's a smart cat, Mr. Fripp, and the line has stayed with me for quite awhile. Recently it's been popping into my head quite often, mostly as it applies to illustration assignments that I'm tempted to refuse. I use it as a mantra of sorts, and it reminds me that no job is too big or too difficult.

Read on...

Though he wrote the quote and the column for guitarists, clearly his point applies to any creative profession, including illustrators. On the surface, it appears that he's trashing the idea of art made for the purpose of commerce. I don't think he is, though; it's really a refreshing and encouraging take on the age-old dilemma of commercialism versus creativity. Rather than seeing the two forces as an "either / or," I think he's seeing the two forces in the light of "both / and." Creating artistic work for the marketplace does not necessarily mean an artist is selling out, nor does the artist's work have to suffer in the name of commerce. And artists who can survive independently of the marketplace - pursuing their own visions without concern for its marketability - are the exception rather than the rule. For the rest of us, seeing both sides of the art/commerce coin is more than just survival, its truly inspirational.

Here's an example. The next time you're asked to create an illustration that at the outset may seem beyond the current state of your abilities, remind yourself that it's not you that's making the art, but it's the art that is making you. If you view your job as entirely a commercial endeavor, then you'd be tempted to tell clients with seemingly impossible illustration assignments to find someone with greater abilities or experience. But viewed in this new way, there's no other answer to give but, "Yes, of course I'll do it. And I'm gonna rock your little world, sucka!" (The "sucka" part is optional, and not typically recommended for most clients.)

Confidence comes from knowing that the art - the creative vision that's just waiting to be placed on paper - is going to pull you through the process. The art will make the artist.

Then, of course, the artist will make money.

Back to the drawing board.

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Which Pit Bull would you pet?

(Loosely to the tune of the beloved Sesame Street song, "One of these things"):

One of these Pit Bulls is not like the other.
One of them's happy and the other one scowls.
Can you guess which Pit Bull is feeling much better,
Before the angry one growls?
And now the angry one's growled..."



Funny how really good clients can point out subtleties that I somehow missed. My first attempt at drawing this client's Pit Bull for a logo I'm developing with Justin Kite, turned out to look meaner and angrier than what the client wanted to express. I was going for "tough and strong," but I guess I ended up with "pissed off." And a pissed-off pit bull is not the message we want here, kiddies. So, I reworked the eyes and the mouth, and softened the sharp shadows.

Still, I don't think I'd try snagging a bone from either one's mouth.

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I'm on Myspace now, and I'm not ashamed.

So for years, I puzzled as my teenage daughter frittered away hours on her Myspace.com page, conversing feverishly with friends from every corner of the globe. Thankfully, we made it through those years without so much as a peep from sexual predators, would-be boyfriends with borderline personality disorders, or polygamist cult recruiters. If there were any such peeps, I never heard about them.

I'm sure I rolled my eyes more than once at her near obsession with the look of her profile or whether her face was clearly visible in the mosh-pit photo. But now, in a bizarre twist of fate, I now have a myspace page of my own. What's worse, I catch myself checking it several times a day, updating my "mood" and eagerly scanning my messages and bulletins to see what my friends are up to. So far, it hasn't interfered with my personal or work life. But I have noticed that I'm starting to use the words "like, y'know" a lot more often. I've even considered posting one of those arms-length, emo-ridden self portraits to, like y'know, show the deeper, thoughtful side of me.

I tell myself it's a marketing tool - and it is. But it's also damn fun. So, like, go check it out. So, um, yeah.

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1967 Chevelle SS

Gawd, I love drawing hot rods! This was rendered in full vector format, so posters of any size are no problem. Drop me an email if you're interested.

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Badgers? I don't got to show you no stinkin' badgers!

Recently, I've been wrestling with the idea of getting a tattoo.

Now, I'm not a tattoo guy by nature. I don't really know what a "tattoo guy" is, other than a guy with tattoos. There sure seems to be a lot of them around, too. They seem to be quite comfortable with their colorful, skin-deep images of brain-eating zombies, obscure Japanese calligraphy, and squiggly interlocking tribal symbols that speak of the bearer's primal lifestyle which includes sleeping in stone huts, eating raw meat from the bone, and fending off woolly mammoths with clubs.

Mocking tone aside, I actually admire them, those tattoo guys. They ooze confidence, assertiveness, and style. And the level of artistic skill and imagination in much of the tattoo work today is as professional as any art form today.

Read on...

So, I made the mistake of mentioning to my wife that I was thinking of getting one. Of course, she wanted to know what type of image I wanted so she could be reassured I wasn't considering a pointy boobed pin-up girl. Or worse, the word, "Mom." No, I was clear on what I wanted. No zombies, Kanji, or tribal armbands: I wanted a badger branded somewhere on my body (no, not there.) To my surprise, she said, "Sure."

Dammit.

At this point, rather than simply fantasizing about a tattoo, I had to consider actually getting one. She was even willing to chip in a "fitty" to help with the cost. My steely-eyed better half had stared me down across the table and called my hand. So I did what any self-respecting man would do in this situation: I asked a buddy what to do.

"Awesome! Get a tribal arm-band!" he said. Unfortunately, I couldn't punch him because like most men, he's bigger than me. I later learned that he was kidding, of course. But he did think a tattoo was a great idea for me. He has three himself, so I'm sure there's a direct correlation between the number of tattoos a person has and the degree of enthusiasm he has for his friend to get one, too. So, we talked at length about what type of badger should I get.

Should he be cute, like my logo?

No. Not unless I like getting beat up.

Should he be menacing?

No, I don't have the cred it takes to pull that off.

What about somewhere in between, like the mascot for the University of Wisconsin Badgers?

Nah. Wisconsin is too cold for me. Yes, that matters.

So, in the end, I chose to buy a pair of headphones.

That's not me in those headphones. That's a professional model. But those are my headphones.

I don't regret my decision at all. I will never get beat up because of my headphones, and they will never send the implicit message of "Don't f*** with me!" which invariably forces you to back up the claim with some sort of aggression. They also will never make me cold.

Back to the drawing board.

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'67 Chevelle!

I did the '67 Chevelle Illustration. Killer Kite designed the poster.

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'53 Merc vs '34 Ford

You can't stop the chop.

This is a illustration I did for a good buddy of mine who makes, among many other things, posters for Rockabilly concerts. I did the rendering in the style of Tuck, a.k.a. Jeff Tuckner, who is without a doubt one of the best hot rod illustrators around. He's way better at this than I am. He used to be at www.hollywoodtuck.com, but that link doesn't appear to be working right now. Anyone know if he's posting work anywhere on the web?

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Rumblefish

Here's an illustration for Restaurant Startup and Growth magazine. The article was called "A Little Fish in a Big Pond." Pretty literal, huh?

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What's Different About These Two Illustrations?

This is a recent illustration for Dive Center Business magazine. The top version was the first one I submitted to the A/D, and the bottom version was the one that ended up getting published. I guess the top version was too over-the-top for the readership. I think the A/D liked it, but there are always other forces to reckon with. Still, they both turned out fine. The top one will end up in my portfolio, though.

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Blend Until Smooth Has a New Home

If you're looking for the next strip in Blend Until Smooth, you can find it here from now on. I started a new blog devoted entirely to the strip.

I still post every Friday, but I wanted to keep my 'toon separate from this site because theagilebadger.com is primarily my illustration blog, and I want visitors who come here to see what's happening on that side of my business. And it's hard enough carrying a story arc across a full week without having the posts mixed in with my blabs and other posts.

So check it out! www.blenduntilsmooth.blogspot.com

Back to the drawing board.

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I Finally Deep-Sixed the Box

My wife finally convinced me; our TV has been disconnected from its source, and as a result, I've been disconnected from what she loathingly calls "the brain-sucking device." She's right, and I know it.

I haven't had much reason to watch the damn thing recently. Spare time was something reserved for my bachelor days. And now that I'm remarried, I find most of my time is devoted to blending my new family, worrying about my daughter at college, tending to my fledgling illustration business, maintaining my architecture career, drumming, playing guitar, and oh yes, eating and sleeping (although I often find the eating part is disturbingly optional when the other activities are in full motion).

Read on...


I think what finally convinced me to agree with She-Who-Shall-Pull-The-Plug was the one-and-half hour of TV watching we engaged in last Sunday night.

Oh...my...God, what a load of crap we saw paraded before our astonished eyes. I guess I'd been away from that monstrous machine long enough to have forgotten how awful televised entertainment has become. The time lapse of six months or more allowed me to see television programming with fresh eyes. It sucked, and sucked hard. And to top it off, I was paying $39.95 a month keep it available to me 24/7.

I think Rule No. 1 of happy living should be, "Never pay money to keep something around that either sucks or that you don't use. Terminate with extreme prejudice if it falls into both categories."

If any of this resonates with you, maybe you'd be interested in reading The 9-Step Television Diet in the amazing ThinkSimpleNow.com website.

Back to the drawing board.

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