HAPPY DOG

As many of you know, I have a dog named Happy. Here she is:

As many of you also know, I am fiercely protective of her. Woe be unto the poor creature that so much as makes her yelp. Many woes. Like, 42.

My protectiveness does not preclude me from mocking her, however. She has crazy big ears, and she leaves her tongue sticking out for no other reason than she forgot where it belongs. She falls for all of my card tricks. "Hey, Happy! Wanna play 52 Card Pick-Up? Bwa ha ha haha!

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MARY TRYOUTS

Ah, the Christmas Pageant. It's that special time of year when all the pretty girls in church vie for the coveted role of Mary. Back in the day, I and the other choir boys would run an underground betting circle, taking odds for which Brittany or Dakota or Caitlyn would win it.

Here's a tip: the one on the far right, second row is a lock.

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KALLIPYGOS

My first nude - it's like an artistic Bar mitzvah.

This is my contribution to the eBay ACEO forum challenge, HEART. Supposedly, the heart shape as we know it is really a Greek representation of Aphrodite's beautiful behind. Sounds right to me. I mean, the valentine heart looks nothing like the organ that pumps blood through the body. Here is where I would make a blood-pumping-sexy-butt joke when I was a mere boy. Now, I've got to be a mature mensch.

This image, I should note, is inspired by a painting I found on this website dedicated to Mongolian art.

Let's see: I've got Greek, Jewish, and Mongolian cultures covered in this post. See how a derriere can bring people together?

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CRO-MAGNON MAN

This was long ago. Before teh internets. Before internet dating. He had to have this picture painted of him to give to a cute Neanderthal girl he fancied. Hey, don't judge. We've all been there.

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TITMOUSE

Titmouse: the bird that makes every adolescent chuckle like Beavis and Butthead.

I'll wait till you're done.

Out of your system yet? Good. Interesting Titmouse facts: they are cultural learners. For example, they learned how to open milk bottles to get at the cream back in the day of milk delivery. They also lower their body temperature on cold nights, going into what is called torpor. Basically, they're pretty much dead until morning. Their adrenaline acts as antifreeze. And they have specialized leg muscles that allows them to eat upside down.

"Uh, huh huh. He said Titmouse."

"Yeah! Yeah!"

Sorry. I'm a product of the eighties.

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ILLUSTRATION FRIDAY: PEACE

Another tree. Just doing my part for Mother Earth^TM.

Of course, I'm painting on paper, which comes from trees. With a brush with a wooden handle. Should I feel guilty? No. But that's another economics rant for another day. I'll talk about another hippie topic instead: PEACE.

Peace is acting without violence. Millions of people worked together peacefully to create this tree aceo. How did that happen? Trees were harvested to make the aforementioned paper and paint brush. Groups of people worked together to make the synthetic brush hairs, other groups got the metals out of the earth to make the thingy that holds the hairs in, still others put the brush together.

The paints were made in China by an English company. I've never been to either countries.

I bought the paper from someone on eBay, who I've never actually met. I bought the paint at a local store that offers me more art supplies I would ever know what to do with.

I'll (hopefully) sell this aceo to a customer who shall reap the rewards of millions of people's efforts. Millions of people, working together, without planning, in peace.

Hat tip to the late Milton Friedman, who describes this process better than I in his essay, I, Pencil.

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KITTY SENIOR PICTURE

Kitty hated taking school pictures. Not only would they not let him do the pose he wanted, but they wouldn't allow him to wear his grill. For the unaware, a grill (also called fronts) is a decorative gold mouthpiece. The kitty version isn't gold, but is rather an extension of the lower teeth, giving a feline an added menacing touch.

Schools don't allow grills in yearbook pictures, citing a correlation to gang activity. The real reason, in my opinion, is that they know the fashion will not stand the test of time, and are trying to save their students from future humiliation.

BUT, schools don't have as much control over the Senior pictures. So now kitty can pose as he wishes, and wear his special kitty grill. Ah, the freedom of burgeoning adulthood.

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WISE KITTY

This Wise Kitty is in a rush - claws bared, he tries to spur his camel steed on his way to meet up with two other Wise Kitties. Making his way out of the Orient (Siam, if you please; or if you don't), carrying a gift of catnip for the newborn King of the Mews.

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Merry Christmas. There. I said it. Happy now? Is that all it takes?

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VARNISH TARNISH

You can't frost hot brownies. You can, but you'll have to offer them to your dinner guests as Abstract Brownies.

So here's an Abstract Painting^TM. I'm not going to lie to you: this was not how I expected it to turn out. I had made a cool little painting of an angry looking geisha type. It would have been a perfectly suitable addition to my FACES collection. And then I tried to emulate a certain popular aceo artist who shall remain nameless. All I will tell you his name rhymes with Lick Freezer.

I tried to add a glaze to gouache. Either it wasn't dry enough, or I was using the wrong glaze. As you can see, everything ran together. This is the result.

The real title, by the way, is RED LADY WITH FORKS STICKING OUT OF HER MINI-SATELLITE DISH HAIR-DO, but that won't fit.

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SAD OIL FACE

This is a first for me. Oil, that is. It might be a last - talk about a high-maintenance medium.

This guy is sad because he is aware of his likely future of loneliness. I'm pretty much a watercolor or gouache painter. Occasionally acrylic. And you know what they say, oil and water don't mix. Or was it oil and vinegar? Wait, no, that's a salad dressing. My favorite kind, mind you. When I eat salads at all. But I digress.

Someday I'll do oils again. But I might need guidance. Like a class or something. Imagine that - actually learning about something before you try it. Do people actually do that?

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LAUGHING AUDIENCE

The wife observantly notes that most of the faces I paint look tired, sad, angry, or some other not happy emotion. So to challenge myself, here's something happy.

Of course, for all we know, they're laughing at someone else's misfortune.

Sorry. Couldn't help myself.

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BECKMANN-ISH

Max Beckmann is one of those artists many people have said I should check out. Alright, already. I've checked him out. And, as usual, those people were right. Cool stuff. So here I offer up unto you, verily verily, my interpretation of Beckmann's Still Life with Three Skulls.

I suppose you could find a poster of this somewhere. If you bought that, you'd have a more accurate representation of the real thing. And it would be bigger. But, and I hate to be the one to break it to you, posters are tacky. And even though this aceo is a painting of someone else's work, it's realer art than a poster.

Just be happy that I didn't try to make it more my own by adding a naked Belly Punker.

Anyway, here's the real thing:

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BUCKED

I'm a man of many passing fancies. Hobbies, if you will. Many of them are the type where using phrases like "passing fancies" could get you in trouble. Bull Riding is not, nor will it ever be, one of them.

If I ever did, however, this is a view I would probably get used to seeing.

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SPEAKING OF BIRDS...

The wife has a new blog all about 'em.

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PILEATED WOODPECKER

They live around here, but I haven't seen one yet. The wife has. So this description is second hand.

They're huge. Their claws are huge. Their heads are huge. Their wings, all raggedy, are huge. The noise they make when pummeling square-shaped holes into trees is huge. They look like Pterodactyls. Small Pterodactyls, but Pterodactyls are ... er ... were really huge. Look, it's relative. Stop being so literal. You want literal? Fine. They're crow-sized.

And they're totally punk rock. If Johnny Rotten were a bird, he'd be a Pileated Woodpecker.

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PET-ICURE (IF: HELP)

Someone, please. Help this poor kitty.

The owner refuses to trim this cat's nails because of one incredibly misguided reason: LONG NAILS SELL ART.

Think I'm kidding? Get on eBay and watch this item. Go ahead. Don't even bid, if you can control yourself. And this kitty suffers for it. He used to tread upon soft, cushy carpet, but his claws scratched it all away to the wood floor. Now his toes are cold in the morning. Way to go, cruel art collectors.

There is a way to save this kitty, of course. You could win the auction and give him a trim. Be warned, however: there are ne'er-do-wells about who wish to own this kitty themselves, just to bask in the glorious length of his nails. Make sure you have plenty of cashola in your paypal account.

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ART CLASS SKETCHES

Here's that Cezanne painting again, this time sketched in 15 minutes. Stop watch and everything.

And here's what I did with the rest of the class time. Interpret as you will. Or don't. I don't control your mind.

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WALKING THE CAT

This might take a little bit of explaining.

The Belly Punker needs some exercise. So he decides to take the cat out for walks. The thing is, Mrs. Belly Punker has spoiled the cat. When Mrs. Belly Punker walks the cat, she showers him with treats all the way. Now the cat won't budge without a treat. The Belly Punker, a strict disciplinarian, knows the rules: first exercise, then training, THEN reward. All thanks to the mighty Kitty Whisperer.

Anyway, what you see here is the war of wills. And the A-frame house I hope to one own. On the land near the mountains. With a big tree or six. And a bird feeder behind the house. With no property taxes. Or mortgage payments. What? Oh. Sorry. Drifted off for a minute there.

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MONGOLIAN HORSES

I was looking for inspiration for painting a horse. Horse-peration. I didn't want to just paint any old horse. So I went to the horse source: Mongolia. On the internets, of course. I'm poor. I can't just pick up and travel to Mongolia.

There's some amazing art coming out of Mongolia. I found quite a few images with horse subjects, of course of course (sorry, had to be done), that had an aesthetic that appealed to me. Here's a HarmoniousJosh-ified version of one of them.

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GUITARMAN

I recently went to go see Doc Watson in concert. This is not Doc, obviously. Only inspired by his flat-picking genius.

I went to the bar at the concert and asked for a Scott Adams. Scott Adams is the author of the comic strip, Dilbert. He has an excellent blog, at which I've apparently been spending too much time. He does not lend his name to any beer labels that neither I nor the bartender are aware of. Once we figured out my error, the rest of the transaction went smoothly.

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BROOKLYNISH #2

Another cityscape.

We've been out of the big city for seven months now. I'm still perfectly satisfied seeing this view by way of aceo. I prefer the live views of the trees.

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TREE #14

Another tree. There's a lot of them out there.

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ILLUSTRATION FRIDAY: MASK

The good ol' mask of happiness. No one likes sad people. What bummers they are. Bringing everybody down. Why can't they fake it like everybody else?

Quit yer mopin', sad people.

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LADY CARDINAL

When we were living in Brooklyn, we had a view of both the Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building. When picking the favorite, the CB is the easy choice. But over time, the stateliness of the ESB grew on me. The same thing with the Northern Cardinal.

When we moved to NC, we were thrilled to see all of the cardinals (being the freakishly avid birdwatchers we are). The glowing red of the male cardinal was a real treat. But over time, as with the ESB, the female cardinal won us over.

So here she is.

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CAT-O-LILY

Ah, the Cat-o-lilies are in bloom again. Such a strange flower - suitable to any occasion.

You want crazy kitties? You got crazy kitties. How lucky for you, to reap the benefits of my malfunctioning brain.

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3-D SPIKE-HAIRMAN

I'm not sure, but I'm pretty sure this dude is 3D glasses compatible.

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Look, "Cezanne," if that is you're real name (sounds French to me), don't make me send my wild pack of lawyers after you. Here is my painting:

and here is what I find floating around the internets under YOUR supposed name:



You. Me. Playground. After school. Bring your lunch money.

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FAT BOXER

UPDATE: The Illustration Friday topic this week is MIGHT, coincidentally. Read on:

Sometimes, no matter how much cardio you do, the gut remains. Sometimes, you have a gut because you don't do cardio. Maybe you don't do cardio because you don't expect the fight to last more than a round or two. Have you given up, and just showing up for a meager payday? You don't need to be in shape to pad some other guy's record.

Or, you MIGHT decide you aren't a tool, and throw the left hook with abandon.

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SNARK DOG

Sometimes, when I have painter's block, I just splat some paint on an aceo card. I then look for something paintable, sort of like finding images in clouds. This splat looked like a terrier-ish dog, so I "went for it," as some might say.

This one is a little on the "cute" side for me, I must admit. I know cute art is popular, but you must understand I have a reputation as a tough, manly, hard-nosed, toughy tough tough guy. At least, that's my reputation in whatever bizzarro world I live in. I can't go around, painting cutesy little doggies. The doggies ... er ... dogs I paint have to be fierce and maybe a little mangy.

What makes this dog listable for me is the expression - he's got a look that says "riiiight." to whatever nonsense you're trying to get him to do. Try it. Tell this dog to go fetch. His response? Riiiiight. He doesn't even bother looking at you. You: Shake paw, boy! Shake paw! Dog: Riiiiiight. You: Roll over, Rover! Dog: Sigh. My name isn't even Rover, moron.

What a rude dog.

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BLUE JAY

One day, the wife and I will own our own home in the woods. We'll earn our living by getting paid to watch the birds from our porch. That's the plan.

Ooh! Look! A Blue Jay! Cha Ching!

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CORNERED KITTY

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IPOD BANDITO

So as you may or may not know, I've been employed as a school photographer lately. At this one school, I was walking down a hallway that was lined with third-graders' artwork. While I'm always interested to see what the young 'uns are up to, this display really got my attention:

They were all WANTED posters, all with a Mexican guy sporting a sombrero and a big moustache. Wow, I thought. These guys have really strong opinions about the whole immigration thing. Upon closer inspection, I realized they were all Pancho Villa. Hmm, I said to myself. I guess I'm a little less weirded out.

Then, on the way home from that school, my iPod broke.

So here, mis amigos, is the iPod Bandit. He delivers stolen iPods to those whose warranties have unexpectedly expired (for a fee, of course).

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ILL WIND

Another one from the depths of my subconscious. I can't paint a nice little seascape, can I? Oh, no. I have to paint a scary face to make it "Trippy," as Mick Reasor would say. But you don't need another same ol' same ol' seascape anyway, do you?

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BURCHFIELD-ERIFIC

When I first started painting, smart art people suggested Charles Burchfield as an artist I might enjoy. They were right - his work is very good.

I'm not going to school for any of this, so to educate myself on the masters I'm reading books and, as you may recognize here, copying their work. This is my attempt (homage?) at Charles Burchfield's "Gothic Window Trees.

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TREE STUDY #13

I don't know if this is really the 13th tree I've painted. I made up the number for 12, and I painted this one after that. So, 13 it is. This tree is totally different from the other one. Obviously, I haven't "found myself" as a painter yet. Or I'm a Schizo. I can guess which one you think it is. Anyway, texture is the name of the game little arbol of loveliness. I strayed from my usual smooth blending method to try to get some more choppiness.
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TREE STUDY #12

I have no idea if this is tree study #12 or #21. I'm just going to make up numbers, as I can't really think of a gimmicky title for this neat little painting. The light is really the main subject in this one, anyway. I'm trying to get dimensionality and interestingness (hey, that's a word - it cleared the spell check to my surprise) in my painting, and light seems to be the way to go. With watercolors, you do that by working on the shadows. Is that ironic, or a paradox? You're probably saying it's "no duh."

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ILLUSTRATION FRIDAY: INVENTION

The invention represented here is the weapon. Now I suppose this is where I'm supposed to be all "aren't weapons bad, wouldn't we be better off without them, blah etc blah." I really don't want to be mistaken for some kind of Neo-Con yahoo, but I gotta say I'm glad weapons were invented.

The other day, the wife and I were at the dog park with our dog, Happy. Happy is a small dog who runs very fast and loves to be chased. It can be a little nerve-wracking at times, especially when the really big dogs go after her. Usually if it starts to get too aggressive, the bigger dog's owner would step in before any damage was done. This one time, however, no one stepped up when a huge German Shepherd started biting at Happy. I shooed him away, and we played in a different area of the dog run (the place is almost 6 acres). Things were fine until the big dog ran over with two others, and they triangulated Happy. Before I could get to them, the big dog had Happy's hind quarters in his mouth, and sent her airborn. Happy was crying as I picked up a stick and ran over to the scene and proceeded to bludgeon the big dog on it's cranium.

I'm not a big guy. Without a weapon, I'm no match for a big dog. Most humans aren't. But with a weapon, I was able to defend my dog. I was also able to scare the crap out of everyone in the crowded dog park, as I started screaming profanities at whoever the cowardly anonymous big dog owner was (stick still in hand; I wonder why he didn't identify himself?).

Anyway, Happy was fine. So was the big German Shepherd. We've been back to the park since, and upon retelling the story to others found out I'm not the first guy to go primal as a result of some uncontrolled dog. Would everything have been fine if I was without a weapon? I don't know. Maybe I could have gotten the big dog off of Happy with my bare hands. Maybe the dog wouldn't consider me easy pickings without a big stick and turn on me, adding to my dog-induced scars (I worked at an animal shelter). Maybe this time everything would have been fine. But I'll make sure there's at least a stick nearby, if it's all the same to you.

UPDATE: Or an effective mood stabilizer.

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I sentence my art to be shot at dawn...

By one of these cameras.

Flickr is making graphs on the popularity of the cameras used on their site. Being a camera user, and a (delinquent) Flickr member, I find this quite interesting, but not as interesting as you who are looking for something to get me for ChrismaKwanzaaHannukah...

coolness via Boing Boing.

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ANOTHER HOME FOR THE BELLY PUNKER!!!

Continuing my googlfication, I just started a new website with the Google Page Creator.

It's not much to look at yet, but here's the front page.

Thanks, official Google Blog.

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PLANET PRILOSEC

I'm reviving this one for this week's IF: Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is celebrated in many forms in many cultures, even on many planets.

Here is a special scene from the planet, Prilosec (no relation to the pharmaceutical) As the three red-ish moons set in the yellow horizon, the Prilosecians join hands in their monthly celebration called "Whew, That Was A Close One (WTWACO for short)."

About thirteen Prilo-years ago, their planet was spinning through the universe (much like ours, fellow earthlings) when it chanced upon a whole bunch of asteroids. Fortunately for them, they have three moons that were able to run interference, so to speak. All the asteroids crashed on one of the three lunar heroes instead of their green and yellow planet (needless to say, they're GB Packers fans).

The WTWACO festival is held in honor and gratitude to their moons. Good thing we, fellow earthlings, have three moons, for it's only a matter of time before we enter an asteroid belt ourselves.

What? We only have one? Um, oh. Right. Well, I'm sure we'll be fine.

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SEXY BASS CALL ME

Dare #51

My dare:

Paint a FANTASY tropical fish.

Hello, sailor (sexy voice-over: call me). Out in the ocean, all alone(sexy voice-over: call me)? Wishing you had a special friend to show you a good time(sexy voice-over: call me)? Call, 1-800-HOT-BASS. Meet a new fish-friend tonight!

OK, I just creeped myself out.

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The wife and I are about to begin looking for a house to buy. This might be helpful.

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OK, so this comes a little late. Google Maps finally has a save map feature. It's now retake time for school pictures, and it would have been nice to just pull up the map. No biggie, google. There's always next time.

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Perfect for school photographers with a bad sense of direction...

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BLUEBIRD

The wife says, "Paint me a bird."

So I paint a bird. A bluebird, to be precise.

Being a good husband is easy.

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FACE IMPROV: BALLET DANCER

Here's the latest in the FACE IMPROV series. Why a ballet dancer? I don't know. I'm not in charge. I just let the paint drip where it will.

I kept the colors simple this time - only three. And, though it may be hard to tell, I used gouache this time instead of watercolor.

And I also decided to sign it. Somehow, it seems appropriate that my moniker is in the guys armpit. Does it add, or subtract from the value? I'll find out soon enough...

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CLEAR CONSCIENCE

One of two things are clear.

One: Most arguments that involve a lot of finger-pointing might as well be conducted in a mirror. Maybe it's better to not argue at all, and enjoy sitting in the shade of a tree.

Two: I shouldn't drink and doodle.

Comments are open for your votes. Write-ins welcome.

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GREENMAN IN A CANOE

What a sight the Greenman is. A paradox, even. Perhaps I should explain.

The Greenman lives in complete freedom. His society has no need for laws, as the understanding of life as a non-zero-sum game is ingrained into their genome. Without any laws, they don't need any leaders. However, there's a catch.

You see, they live in fear of one day having their freedom taken away. They're constantly running from an imaginary king who wishes to rule them. And that's the paradox: the fear is also written into their genome.

So the Greenman has complete freedom, but is a slave to fear.

Is there a political message to this story? Only this: Groucho Marx did not win any elections AGAIN. And that makes me angry.

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LOU DIAMOND PHILLIPS: NOW WITH MORE ILLUSTRATION FRIDAYNESS!!!

In a blatant attempt to drive the billions of Lou Diamond Phillips fans to this blog, I've painted his likeness in the form of an aceo.

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

UPDATE: Welcome, Japanese Lou Diamond Phillips fans!

UPDATE 2: La Bamba. Stand And Deliver. Young Guns. YOUNG FREAKIN' GUNS. Dude was awesome in Young Guns. Lou Diamond Phillips, an 80's icon if there ever was one.

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GOOGLE DOODLED BY GAGGLE OF BRITISH KIDS

Hey, I want to design a google homepage image. When are they going to have a contest for the likes of yahoos like me?

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SMOKIN OUTLAW

Any similarities between this character or anyone you know or, Odin forbid, you, are purely coincidental. Unless of course you're one of those "a reason for everything" types. In which case, I've got nothing to tell you other than IT'S ALL CHAOS.

I'm enjoying the process of making these faces. There's no planning - I haven't been sketching at all. Just painting the outline of a face and going from there.

Here's SMOKIN OUTLAW. He's obviously a bad dude of some sort. He has to be, as he's smoking. Rob Reiner would sue the pants off of me if I made a sympathetic character with a pipe dangling from his lips. We must think of the children, after all. And the trial lawyers.

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FACE IMPROV: LONG NECK

A disclaimer: I have no idea who this is.

I painted the neck rather long, so I went with it a la the Pa Dong Long Neck people. I wonder how that beauty trend got started. What beauty trends existing now in Western culture are going to be taken to such extremes? Is it even possible anymore, given the accelerating speed at which trends change? Or are such extremes MORE likely, as envelopes beg to be pushed?

Anyway, Iris thinks this image bears the likeness of my mom. All you armchair Freudian psychiatrists, make of that what you will.

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