Posts tagged “portfolio”
The Work/Life 2 directory of illustration is out from Uppercase, and it’s a beautiful little book packed with profiles of great illustrators, their workspaces, sketchbooks, and illustrations.
This is the piece I created for the book.
Cross-posted from Picture Book Report
I, Willy Wonka, have decided to allow five children — just five, mind you, and no more — to visit my factory this year. These lucky five will be shown around personally by me, and they will be allowed to see all the secrets and the magic of my factory. Then, at the the end of the tour, as a special present, all of them will be given enough chocolates and candies to last them for the rest of their lives!
After missing last month, I’m back with another Charlie illustration. Here we meet the first four finders of Wonka’s Golden Tickets. I borrowed one detail from Tim Burton’s adaptation, and that was to turn Mike Teavee, the toy-gun-toting couch potato, into a gamer. I think it’s fair to say that if the story were written today, this violence-loving-brat would be addicted to shoot-em-up video games instead of gangster movies.
I also borrowed a visual gag from Gene Wilder’s Wonka — the type that gradually diminishes in size to the point of illegibility.
I won’t replicate the descriptions of every child, but oh the picture Roald Dahl paints of poor Augustus Gloop:
The picture showed a nine-year-old boy who was so enormously fat he looked as though he had been blown up with a powerful pump. Great flabby folds of fat bulged out from every part of his body, and his face was like a monstrous ball of dough with two small greedy curranty eyes peering out upon the world.
Next month we will finally meet Mr. Wonka himself.
A recent illustration to decorate the website belonging to the fine folks at Subvert Marketing.
This was a fun project, and I’ll share some of the rejected roughs and process soon.
Here’s a little illustration I did for Uppercase Magazine. It accompanied an article about scotch, suspenders, and smoking pipes.
The article references Mr. Potato Head as once having a pipe as a standard accessory, and once I read that, the drawing basically created itself.
A double page puzzle spread for the upcoming October issue of chickaDEE Magazine. This is without the text in place, but the puzzles include the maze, finding 3 sets of matching pumpkins, finding the 6 hidden scarecrows, and figuring out if there are more children in pirate costumes or in wizard costumes.
Cross-posted from Picture Book Report.
…he also had a device which looked rather like a largish electronic calculator. This had about a hundred tiny flat press buttons and a screen about four inches square on which any of a million ‘pages’ could be summoned at a moment’s notice. It looked insanely complicated, and this was one of the reasons why the snug plastic cover it fitted into had the words Don’t Panic printed on it in large friendly letters. The other reason was that this device was in fact the most remarkable of all books ever to come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor – The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The reason why it was published in the form of a micro sub meson electronic component is that if it were printed in normal book form, an interstellar hitchhiker would require several inconveniently large buildings to carry it around in.
With this illustration, I travel backwards in the book again to Arthur’s introduction of the book within the book, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. It’s difficult to imagine this once-fantastical device without thinking of iPads, iPhones, Kindles, and Wikipedia. And it’s unfortunate that Douglas Adams, a Mac-user and tech nerd, never got to see his vision realized of a handheld device with instant access to endless sources of information.
In the book, the device is described has having “about a hundred” tiny buttons, though were it written today, the Guide would surely have a touchscreen. Still, I couldn’t resist making it look like a calculator (and very much like a Kindle) if only to decorate the buttons with an alien alphabet.
I used the same palette as my first illustration in the series, so those who wish to buy prints might find the two make a decent diptych.
This will be my last illustration for The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. In creating the series I realized that I didn’t want to illustrate the characters. It’s a book about ideas — science, reason, philosophy, religion — and the characters exist only as vessels for these ideas. I feel I’ve exhausted this stylistic exploration of the book, and so next month I will begin a new series for a different book. Stay tuned.
And if you’re an iPad user, I’ve created iPad-friendly wallpaper of this illustration that works in both landscape and horizontal orientation.
Cross-posted from Picture Book Report.
Something a little different this month. I wanted to do a simple spot illustration of the Starship Heart of Gold. Now, if you’re familiar with the story you’ll recognize that what I’ve drawn bears little resemblance to the ship described in the book:
…a huge starship, one hundred and fifty meters long, shaped like a sleek running shoe, perfectly white, and mindbogglingly beautiful.
It seems to me that all spaceships look like, in some way, sleek running shoes. I wanted to have a little fun with the design of the Heart of Gold, and as I had been collecting images of vans and RVs, it also seemed to me that the Heart of Gold would look just as mindbogglingly beautiful if it resembled a retro camper van.
After all, with the Infinite Improbability Drive at its heart, it seems all too likely (or rather, unlikely) that the most impressive starship in the galaxy would (or, in this case, would not) look exactly like a retro camper van. So the very improbability that the ship would look quite the opposite of how it is described in the book makes my interpretation all the more plausible. I think.
Yesterday I posted the rough sketch and some of the reference photos I used for this, as well as the horrible realization that a spaceship that looks like an RV, had already been done, and that I had just ripped off Spaceballs.
“That is really amazing,” [Zaphod] said. “That really is truly amazing. That is so amazingly amazing I think I’d like to steal it.”
The next thing that happened was a mind-mangling explosion of noise and light.
Cross-posted from Picture Book Report.
I have recovered from illness in time to complete and post this before the weekend is offically over.
It’s probably safe to say that this is a favourite part of the book for many people, particularly the inner monologue of the poor whale as it gains self-awareness and the ability to form new thoughts and ideas all within the short time it takes for it to plummet to its death.
Zaphod leapt out of his seat.
“Then what’s happened to the missiles?” he said.
A new and astounding image appeared in the mirrors.
“They would appear,” said Ford doubtfully, “to have turned into a bowl of petunias and a very surprised looking whale…”
It was my intention to introduce the Starship Heart of Gold into this illustration. But I have specific plans for how I want the ship to look, and it would have been all too distracting an image to include it here with the whale and the petunias. And the planet Magrathea, which I took liberties with and made purple instead of red, as it’s described in the book. So a simpler, stronger image it is.
I may need to rewind the book a few chapters for my next illustration in order to properly introduce the improbable Heart of Gold. Until then, here is that poor, poor whale.
And wow! Hey! What’s this thing suddenly coming towards me very fast? Very very fast. So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide sounding name like… ow… ound… round… ground! That’s it! That’s a good name — ground!
I wonder if it will be friends with me?
And the rest, after a sudden wet thud, was silence.
Picture Book Report illustration 2: You’ll need to have this fish in your ear
I am cross-posting this over at Picture Book Report.
Ford, with a lightning movement, clapped his hand to Arthur’s ear, and he had the sudden sickening sensation of the fish slithering deep into his aural tract. Gasping with horror he scrabbled at his ear for a second or so, but then slowly turned goggle-eyed with wonder. He was experiencing the aural equivalent of looking at a picture of two black silhouetted faces and suddenly seeing it as a picture of a white candlestick. Or of looking at a lot of coloured dots on a piece of paper which suddenly resolve themselves into the figure six and mean that your optician is going to charge you a lot of money for a new pair of glasses.
The Babel fish is a living hearing aid that decodes the brainwaves embedded in all speech patterns. Like Star Trek’s universal translator, the Babel fish is a simple plot device used to avoid the obvious obstacle of an interstellar language barrier.
But like all good science fiction, the story and the characters here exist as vehicles for larger ideas. And with the Babel fish Douglas Adams, a self-described radical atheist, dismisses both Intelligent Design and the circular logic of religious extremism in one fell swoop:
Now it is such a bizarrely improbable coincidence that anything so mindbogglingly useful could have evolve purely by chance that some thinkers have chosen to see it as the final and clinching proof of the non-existence of God.
The argument goes something like this: ‘I refuse to prove that I exist,’ says God, ‘for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing.’
‘But,’ says Man, ‘the Babel fish is a dead giveaway, isn’t it? It could not have evolved by chance. It proves you exist, and so therefore, by your own arguments, you don’t. QED.’
‘Oh dear,’ says God, ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ and promptly vanishes in a puff of logic.
I nearly didn’t illustrate this scene. After my first illustration, I was very aware that I hadn’t actually drawn any of the main characters yet. So I thought my next move should be to introduce Arthur Dent, the story’s protagonist, in some straight-forward, literal interpretation. But as I started to reread parts of my dogeared 1979 paperback, this image of the Babel Fish with a brain for a speech bubble materialized.
And it’s these little moments in the book that make Douglas Adams so much fun to read. The characters really do take a back seat to the ideas and philosophies sprinkled throughout. The main character isn’t Arthur Dent. As Douglas Adams would say, he’s just this guy, you know. It’s the book within the book, the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, that allows Douglas Adams to bounce from one idea to the next, and inject his world view into a series of events that can give it shape.
I’ve included iPhone wallpaper versions of this and my first HHGG illustration over at the Picture Book Report post.
chickaDEE movie puzzle
I drew this double-page movie-themed puzzle for an upcoming issue of chickaDEE Magazine. It’s a little noisier than my usual work, but that’s the nature of a dense find-em puzzle. Less is less in this case.
It’s shown here without any of the accompanying text, so you’ll have to use your imagination and figure out how to play the various bits all on your own.



