The Man Himself

I haven't really got around to the rest of the cast of He Man very much.









On account of being mainly concerned with the man himself.

Men and their Heads and my Line Frenzy

Here are some pictures that say unto you that I still draw wrestler heads.

This one's from ages ago. I did it whilst watching a whole episode of What's New Scooby Doo, which isn't a very good thing. But I wanted to know who did it.





And these were done in preparation for an illustration that ultimately went in a letter to Mick Foley, illustrating my concerns about how John Cena might respond to my depictions of him.





And this is a video of a caricaturist called John Kascht drawing Rudy Guiliani. I liked watching him draw and his descriptions are as eloquent as his drawings. It made me realise I draw in quite a frenzied way... professionals are smooth. There's a link to his other videos drawing the other candidates on the right.

Where's Arnold? I wonder if you can find him.

This all looks a bit of a mess, but I think I'm learning that the best and most organic ideas often sprout from this kind of mess.

Doing these little wild thumbnails seems like quite a natural part of the process to me.
Can you spot Arnie?

An offended spotty cat?

(It may help to click to enlarge)

An erumpent green rump?

Some stinky carthamus pink?





The carthamus pink I got in a sale at Herrings, the art shop in my home town Dorchester. The tube looks like it's from at least as long ago as the seventies. And heavens it's stinky stuff.

Drawing Equivalent of Salon Hair Clippings

I've done so many loosey McLoose explorational sketches lately that I've accumulated enough oddities for a 'miscellaneous' post, which is what this is.

Here's a man slapping a duck upside its duck head:





And more cemetery reverspective confusions:












Here's a sketch of me in pants. I suppose you could call this self-portraiture of a rather low-key sort. Oh hang on, if you're American, they're not pants. Let's just call them knickers.





The bunnies and minotaurs never quite made it past the bumpy phase of their relationship. Perhaps I ought to take them to couples counselling.





Here's a sort of Mary Mary (Quite Contrary) scenario.... How does my garden grow? Kinda scribbliliy, With Rex Hackelberg beast studies and Randy Orton smugfabulous heads looming out of the bosom of the earth like smug expansively cheekboned cabbages.





This was a little cameo that might still become a painting. I posted it to my old friend Tom on myspace (not MySpace Tom)...





And Tom interpreted it for me (if you click this one, you'll find his space with his music on):





Then there was the time I got fed up with drawing Edge the wrestler and his preying mantis eyes and henceforth decided to put some effort into turning him into a cat. But then what happened was at a certain point I ended up with an entity that was neither Edge nor Cat, but some frightful abomination of a kind no one needs to see.





P.S.

My Cafepress Store still exists!





bye bye!