I little while ago I was at a party and we were discussing good literature---Wilde, Waugh, Greene and so on---and from somewhere lodged deep in my memory/subconscious I recalled a book; the problem was, I couldn't remember the title or the author. Somehow I knew it was really good too, though I had never read it myself; just heard about it from a friend years before. After asking nearly everyone at the party if they could help us figure out what the heck this book was, but to no avail, I started on a quest. The only thing I knew for sure was that it was a work of Science Fiction of some sort, and had to do with Catholic monks and the Apocalypse. Not too much to go on it would seem, but I knew as soon as I saw the title I would know it. Well, a short time on Google and Wikipedia cured my ignorance and I swung by the local used book store and snagged an old tattered paperback copy for $1.79. At the party, the friend I was chatting with declared that when we finally found out what the book was it had better be awesome beyond reasonable expectation for all the trouble we had gone to; and folks, it was. A Canticle for Leibowitz is perhaps the the most Catholic, perceptive and beautiful work of fiction I have ever read. The book is filled with incredible descriptions of human goodness and sacrifice, a deep and accurate commentary on the Church and it servants, and many quiet, inoffensive digressions of personal opinion and thoughts about life by the author that has left me very moved. This is not a suggested read, this book is an absolute MUST!

I stayed up until two in the morning last night working on my Dad's old Nova, trying to get the engine in it so we can drive it back to Washington State---which is supposed to be happening in 6 days---and right now the motor is still on a stand in front of the car, the transmission is sitting in the corner, the driveshaft is rolling around under the car, and the radiator is on a shelf under the workbench. Well, this sort of thing is nothing new for me, so I'll plough through a couple more nights like last and we'll be on our way, God Willing. And despite the misery of going to work on 3 hours and 15 minutes of sleep, there is something undeniably satisfying, even fun, about staying up half the night struggling with some old greasy piece of machinery.

It's a beautiful morning and I feel introspective, though I'm not really thinking about anything. Seems when you finally feel that you ready to say something grand and insightful the words just dry up. So I am talking about wanting to be smart and literary, without actually being so...I don't mind at all though, the sun is warm and so is my coffee, and I have misplaced my textbook, so until I get more serious about finding it i can't do my homework. Ha!

Here is the finished version of the Macbeth cover. The blood was colored in Photoshop, but the rest was the result of hours and hours of penwork. My wrist felt broken when I was done!

While working on scanning a preferred version of Macbeth for the Summer Seminars at TAC I was commissioned to draw a cover for it as well. Now, I will refrain from stating my opinions on anything related to the S. Seminars and the way the school proceeds in general on things of this nature, and simply admit that I am not too good to desire wealthy Catholic people who are interested in Education and Culture to see my cover illustration, whether it be great or mediocre: I want my work to be seen! Either I will make the cut, or realize I don't have the magic---and I'd rather try and fail than always wonder and slowly grow bitter. So of course I am working extremely hard on this one---it has got to be good. So, after that dramatic intro, I here is the rough pencil sketch, which I plan to refine and finish in ink (and coloring the blood red at their own request):

As much as I don't like admitting it, I am often really bored in my design class at Ventura College. Our teacher for color and design is too used to a classroom full of high-schoolers it seems, and doesn't relate too well with college-age students, and, being an art teacher, is not very interested in structure or anything at all concrete. Sometimes I wonder if it is worth the time, the drive, the gas...but then I wouldn't be doing part-time graphic design for TAC if I wasn't currently in school---can't argue with that. I guess there's just no escaping that fact that this is what it means to go to Community College. The design teacher is so-so, but really not all that bad; my computer graphics teacher on the other hand is the worst I have ever experienced: I have learned a lot on my own despite her insane classes, but it's an uphill battle. There is a complete disconnect between the students and her as a teacher, and the classes consist of endless monologues, harsh criticisms of us students and a completely absurd homework schedule that changes every class. It is pretty unbelievable. Man. It feels nice to vent a little about this stuff...but summer is almost here, and I am already doing work in my new field, so I really shouldn't whine.

Speaking of which, I have some new drawings for your viewing pleasure:


A simple perspective exercise-turned-serious-picture (I was bored)



This one looks like paint (even in reality, not just on the screen), but it's actually marker. (I was even more bored)

You how sometimes you meet someone that really affects your life, and you want so badly to tell people about them, to describe in detail the time you spent and why it was so important, what it was that touched you...but somehow you just can't?

The 'Darjeeling Limited' has a strange intro movie before the main film starts called Hotel Chevalier. Wes Anderson has a real talent for creating a hip, melancholy, even socially awkward mood that is at once both tragic and endearing. Jake, the male lead childishly puts on his theme song just as his estranged lover enters the room. 'Where do you go to my lovely'(Peter Starstedt, 1969) plays almost continuously throughout the rest of the short, leaving the viewer with a bittersweet, restless sense of love and failure...It has been stuck in my head, as is the rest of the full-length film; sad, oddly content, rootless, unhappy, and yet ever-so-mildly hopeful.

And the second half of the project...

Here is the first half of my midterm assignment...

Well, today is me first day as a real graphic designer; granted, it is a part-time position, but I am actually working in the field I am going to school for...things couldn't be better!