Tuesday, July 16, 2013

an ode to esperenza ...and bad poetry

Dear Ms Esperenza Spalding,
My, how you are certainly not balding.
With hand on bass, you sure ain't dawdling.

Oh Esperenza, when you do your thing,
My sexual preference, you make me want to swing.
Especially true when you open your mouth to sing.

Oh Spalding, with your hairstyle verbose,
My face on yours, I want to superimpose.
Many a follicle tip, I wish you to disclose.

Espie, when I heard your killer musical utensil,
Your sass I couldn't help but immediately pencil.
Your sweet melodies to this world are surely essential.

Dear Ms Esperenza Spalding,
My, how you are certainly not balding.
With hand on bass, you sure ain't dawdling.

Exhibit a.) over enthusiastic screen capturing

meet tony

Meet Tony.
An unassuming man of generous heart and proportion.
He grows tomatoes. Tinned tomatoes. He combs his comb over with Extra Virgin, assigns names to his veggies, and pits olives on the weekend whilst miming the collective works of Pavarotti.
A stereotype? I say a patriot.
Hi Tony.

are we there yet?

Family holidays.

When the mere sight of an insignificant landmark resulted in an ice cream trophy.
When the height in in-flight/drive entertainment consisted of eye-spy and an in-depth social survey on a particular demographic's favoured car colour choices.
When the favourite, yet limited selection of cassettes became tests of endurance. Even the wiggles.
When you only realise you need to pee after you've left the last gas station in 200km.
And when 'are we there yet?' were the only four words you ever needed.

watercolour and ink

Here is a little piece for an article about purchasing a safe family car. An aluminium institution of education and frustration on four wheels. Without which we would never have learnt the virtues of patience, public toilets and confectionary rewards.

Voila! Faux published.

Thursday, July 4, 2013

horse whispering is so 1998.

We seem to have horse whispering down to a fine art. That was so wonderfully demonstrated by the aesthetically displeasing duo of Scarlett Johanssen and Robert Redford. Baby whispering, perhaps a little less glamorous.

I can only imagine that the idea of horse disciplinary tools and child rearing might be inextricably related in the imaginations' of parents in the throws of nappy rash and teething tears. However, I thought that might be best kept in the imaginations of sleep deprived parents, and take a slightly gentler approach to this illustration.

This was an article I interpreted under the lovely eyes of the team at ACP magazines.

original published article

Watercolour and ink

Voila! faux published.

carmen mooranda

Carmen Mooranda

in-the-process watercolour

Could it be? No! Yes! A bird? A Bee? NO! Behold! A new blogpost! Huzzah!

I  am usually one to revere the masterful memory of cyberspace. Anything one posts into the outside world is meticulously documented down to the second one posted it. When I have problems remembering my own birthday, it is something I tend to admire.

But not today cyberspace. Not today. For today, armed with your brag-ish knowledge of the infidelities of my blogging behaviour, you stare at me with an air of discontent, disappointment and a heavy helping of "I thought as much." Today you inform me, it has been almost two years. TWO YEARS since I last came a knocking on your humble doors of the blogosphere. 11 Aug 2011. Oh the shame.

As a small, slightly wilting olive branch, I offer you a little project that came about as the beginnings of a logo for a dairy company, who also sold produce. Another option was later chosen, but Carmen Mooranda kept giving me those bedroom eyes.

So here she is. The conception, and the still-in-the process-gestation.