Dogs

One way I take breaks from illustration and panicking about how to get more illustration jobs is painting dogs.  All of these are painted from original photographs weren't very good until I painted them.

The blue one is my old pup, Corky.
The green one is a weiner dog I saw on the street.
The yellow one is Pipsi, my cousin's pug.
The purple one is Maggie, a dog that often comes to the Friday night wine tastings I attend.

A year of animals

For Christmas, I made my family calendars. Given that my family is made of pet owners, vegetarians, biologists, and oceanographers, I created animal-themed calendars. One for every month. In time for...mid-February, here are all twelve images, in order.January. At least someone got snow.

February: the month where everyone wants to sleep in.
March: the month that, like it or not, everyone associates with the color green because of Irish fairies.
April is rainy. I ripped this off of Peter de Seve. No one does animals better.
May: Oh yes, my family also avidly gardens.
June: Everyone travels to somewhere else on vacation, and annoys the people who live there and aren't on vacation.
July: a cat and an Indian elephant for the Indian guy who likes cats.
August: the dog days of summer. The terrified days of fish.
September: some people like ants. Ants are hard to draw.
October: putting on fat for the winter.
November is fun, even for vegetarians.

December: it's very cold and dark, and it makes people sing.

Outside, with butterflies and crap

It was nice outside today, and since it's March, I had no reason to blame global warming. It's just Spring, y'know. That, and the fact that there were only three people inside the Mudhouse (including Daniel Day-Lewis/Eastwood, who had gotten a haircut, but that didn't warrant as interesting enough for me to stay inside when it was perfect outside.

Across the way, there was a guy across the street reading at a table outside the movie theater. He looked exactly like that guy from "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia," which, replacing the city, is kind of fitting.

And more in celebrity look-a-likes, Ringo Starr, Martha Stewart, and possibly Jack Johnson. Jack and Ringo were talking about the book Jack was writing about urban engineering. And you thought he only played guitar. Oh, and Ringo actually had a real British accent.

Okay, so there aren't that many tables outside the Mudhouse. After Ringo, Jack, and Martha, there wasn't anyone else to draw. I traversed the downtown looking for other clusters of people sitting down, and found one outside the Nook Diner, which conveniently had non-restaurant seating right next to it. The purple lady had red hair, and like everyone else who was looking for an excuse to be downtown today, was reading. The bearded fellow was eating with his friends in the outside dining. One of them was planning a wedding.

At which point, I became bored and decided to just draw people's dogs instead. The hyper-looking lab belonged to a friend of the oval-faced guy. That lab was really excited about the arrival of Biscuit, the terrier. I forget what kind. The terrier got even more excited about the arrival of the Newfoundland, Godfrey, which is the perfect name for a bear. All dogs are drawn to scale.

Greyhound Racing as I see it

Seriously, they do horrible things to dogs behind the race tracks. You'll hear the breeders say things like, "greyhounds like to run," and ,"wee treat our dogs humanely." Well, all dogs like to run. No dog likes to be forced to run in the blistering sun while wearing a muzzle (meaning it can't keep bugs and dust out of its nose.) And yes, I'm sure that the top racers are treated humanely. I'm more concerned with the dogs that don't perform well. The ones breeders cull from the pack the moment they start to slow down.
Dog racing is not culture. It is not heritage. It is animal abuse. Plain and simple.