Illustration Blues

It's been a sad few weeks in the illustration world.  I lost a couple of personal heroes, and also learned about a veteran illustrator whose work I absolutely adore, who also just passed away.  So, in chronological order, here's who went back to the big drawing board in the sky:

 

Carlos Nine, an Argentinian cartoonist and illustrator, died July 18th. I learned about his work from another artist I admire, Tomer Hanuka, and the tactile sensation of his pieces is something I haven't seen anywhere else.  If I had heard about him sooner, I probably wouldn't be able to shut up about him.

Jack Davis, one of the founding artists of Mad magazine, died July 27.  He was one of the best caricaturists of the whole shebang, and I'm quite happy that his heyday was a few decades ahead of my time, because it meant his art could appear in movie posters, ads, and magazines and comics of all sorts, for me to enjoy later on.

 Finally, Richard Thompson, a Washington-based illustrator and cartoonist I greatly admire, also passed on July 27th, from complications from Parkinson's which effectively ended his career far too early.  He's the only person I know of who has been able to bring Calvin and Hobbes creator Bill Watterson out of hiding twice.  I got to meet him once at the Small Press Expo, when I bought a book from him and was two dollars short on cash.  He scribbled on the title page, "What a bargain!" Some day I shall have to sneak over to his grave in the dead of night and leave him two dollars and a bottle of iron gall ink.

The Studio

 Starting at the beginning of this month, I was inducted in as a member of the McGuffey Art Center's Incubator program, in Charlottesville.  This comes with a third of a studio (you can see one of my neighbors to the left) and a year of reduced studio space rent. I view it as a job and attempt to spend at least 7 hours a day there, not including lunch, when I bring it.

   

To keep a schedule of good habits, I'm working on doing one sketch every day, and at least one painting a week, in the hopes that eventually some of them will be commercially viable.

I've also started working on daily social media updates on my art.  I'm now on Twitter and Instagram, @phostetlerart.

 I'm also committed to drawing one enormously fat man every two days.

And as a member of the McGuffey Artists collective, I'm designing their ad for the upcoming "Best of C-Ville" annual magazine thing, too.

ICON9: the Post Report

So, from July 6 through 11, I was not in Virginia, nor in Washington DC, or Maryland, or the Hague, or any of the other places people generally find me, if they're looking.  No, I was in Austin, Texas, for The Illustration Conference: ICON9 (the 9 signifying that this is the ninth conference to be held on Earth).



Held every two years in a different city, under the direction of a different President and Board, ICON is probably the one place I can strike up a conversation with anyone I like and be interested in what they have to say.  I met illustrators from around the world, I met art directors from... mostly New York, I met the friendly and professional waitstaff at the Austin Hilton, where the entire thing was held.









Not only that, but I got to walk around the city of Austin, which is itself not unlike walking around tethered to an open pizza oven: hot as hell, but also much available pizza.  The final closing party was held at Stubb's which is one of those local institutions that makes barbecue so good that I recognized the name immediately, despite never having heard of it before.

But I'm glad to be back home.  I have a pound of business cards to sift through, and I have to remember what I was talking about with Martin Gee, art director at TIME magazine, that ended with him saying I should email him.

Are you into clogging?

A new piece about clogging in the newest Virginia Living magazine.

I did the illustration for this piece, which is why I'm posting it.  And also because I'm quite familiar with taking up dance classes.

Kudos to art director Sonda Andersson Pappan.