A disturbing look into the sketchbooks and random drawings of Scott Quick, "Mid-Missouri's James Joyce". All drawings copyright me, Scott Quick, "Mid-Missouri's James Joyce", etc.
Last Saturday, while my son was playing Pokemon at a local game-shop. I don't really think Americans have a weight problem, we just need bigger chairs. I liked the orange tape wrapped around the shoes of the guy above. I wonder if that's a thing now.
A week ago or so. My son has been playing Pokemon at a local gaming shop. This has provided me with rich opportunities. Of course, as a citizen and a taxpayer, I was concerned about the phallic nature of the young mans hair style above.
Yesterday. I've been working on a piece for a relative involving old family photos. I'll be using pen & ink ( I think) so I'm timidly trying to get back into shape.
Sometime last year, while watching "The Train" starring Burt Lancaster. A genuine No-Prize goes to the first who can identify the French actor depicted above!
Last week, maybe Saturday. Blue Coler-erase pencils require such an aggressive hand to be visible, that it allows for a lot of re-work not always possible with regular lead pencils. Eventually you wind up with a drawing that can be read as braille.
Last week. What emerged from my subconscious was a knight- possibly envisioned by Marvel Comics around, say, 1975.
A few weeks ago, before the weather turned, sketching kids at a weekend group Suzuki violin lesson. A few weeks later, I was sitting opposite a parent who was silently practising his bag-pipe fingering and blowing while the kids worked in class...and I'm the one who's self-conscious about sketching in public.
September, 2009. It isn't until I posted this that I realized I'd stolen the positioning of the "fingers" on the leading hand from Steve Ditko, legendary nut and co-creator of Spider-Man.
Sometime this week. My son was recently watching some of the old Batman Animated series of Bruce Timm's. He's drawn to the Man-Bat episodes, I think because they lend themselves more to Gothic horror instead of crime. I took the Man-Bat and aged him appropriately.
Row 14 on an anonymous flight from Spain to JFK Intl., New York, 1999. Philosophically, my favorite sketch of the whole trip.
A cafe somewhere in Madrid, Spain 1999. And what cafe wouldn't be complete without rows and rows of dried ham hanging above the bar?
