The Joy of Procrastination (and the pitfalls of vanity).

Well I shouldn't be posting this, so don't tell anyone :)

Oops sa daisy -is what we Australians say when we drop babies in the bath (on their heads). Or pour Brand A champagne into somebodys' glass which already contains Brand 'B' champagne. 'Brand B' typically being expensive French champagne.

So oops sa daisy.

Oops sa daisy - I spent some money and rented a domain name - silly me. Google was busy translating my blog for the last three days and just took me off line basically - I am very sorry. Plus I almost lost my treasured list of crazy good artists - :). Bloody bum damn as we say here when we need to swear. Aaaaaaaaargh!

So this is the second time I have posted this post. Thank you Denise and Martine for commenting on my first attempt. And thank you to everyone who wrote and asked me what happened to the blog.... I appreciate your concern very much.

After a few days off line I now have a shiny new domain name which I can't use.

Handy eh?

Well it was cheap (ten dollars) and Google said it translated my blog over automatically.

And it was all true.

My blog got automatically sent to a page that said "This blog does not exist."

Now that's automatic. :)

So today after reading the help section of Google Apps and dissecting the  haunting cries of similar users like myself asking for help (they end their questions with 'is anybody there'? - and usually get no answer) I automatically manually reset my blog address back to boring old 'andrewfinnie.blogspot'.

But at least my new domain name won't get worn out. :( And I have the option of automatic renewell. Easy peasy. 

Okay, I have a silly joke for you.

Q: Why are pirates, pirates?

A: Just because they "aaaaaaaaarrrr."

Oh I am still on holidays.... last week I  even did "Racing' for illustration Friday but cured my blog addiction and did not post it.  How good am I? (not very).

That's been my life really. A series of addictions. First cigarettes, then doritos (see footnote), then wild women (I never talked to them - only smiled mysteriously while batting my eyelashes), then alcohol (I never swallowed), then collecting art books (I always paid for them and never dog eared them) - and  now blog addiction (I never spelled a word incorrectly)!

So now I have landed on my metaphysical feet - on blogaholidays. But where?

Am I in the south of France? (I wish) Am I writing the last miraculously Hemmingwayish chapter in a massive bestselling tome? (I wish) Am I fearlessly ripping apart a barrel at Chowpoo in Tahiti on my backhand while wearing aqualungs in case I wipeout? (I wish).

Or am I sitting at my work desk, contemplating my navel and watching my six pack become a 'one' pack?(I unwish)

Yes, you guessed correctly.

But last week, while in the violent throes of procrastination, I made a video (see top of this post) of  my last year's work. It's kind of like the portfolio you have when you are not having one. It's like having a cheese sandwich sans fromage; or having a car without having any petrol, or having a t- bone steak and having no teeth ...

Well toothless or not, I'd be honoured if you watch the video. It's ridiculously fast (unlike me) and, like a Victorian era woman's ankle,  just gives you a glimpse.

So at just over eleven minutes at  1.08 seconds per image that's about  err - a lot of images. And I left out some (I forgot about them). Which is probably lucky. (there was a man in tight underpants who is very upset, and some medieval Japanese villages which would be upset if they had feelings) .

If you watch the video in  HD it's probably easier on the eyes.

Direct link is here.

Thank-you so much to everyone who commented on that last post. You are very very kind to me.

Oh Oh las banderitas en mi imagen. Se supone que traducir. Espero que ellos están trabajando. Nos vemos cuando llegue a la Tierra de Oz! Saludos.  (Oh the flags under my pic. They are supposed to translate. I hope they are working. See you when I get back from the land of Oz)

regardez

Andrew :)

PS when I posted this google must have picked up 'addiction' and 'marijuana' in the text. So I now have an advertisement in my posting box for a Dr Harry's Drug Treatment Clinic.

 Thankyou Google......

PpS these were my illustrations for "racing'. The genesis is from a childhood book of my grandmother's, then my mother's, book of Nursery Rhymes. The original imageshows a pumpkin carriage being drawn by a train of mice.

Footnote: just kidding about the addictions. The only thing I am addicted to is Hercule Poirot's shoes.

Mother Goose and the Self Fulfilling Prophecy

"The wizard Brian Benderstein Snr on a wild goose chase"

Just did this for fun tonight before going out for dinner. I think I'm going to be late!

 In this one I'm working up 'self fulfilling prophecy." Brian Snr has been sitting in the drawer for a month waiting for his chance.

Thanks for looking.
PS it's only a pretend book!

Jack Be Nimble, Jack Be Quick, Jack Be Calderwuggenbum.

"Why call me Jack?" thought Jack be Nimble, Jack Be quick.
Why not call me Reginald.
Or Brian or Arnold or Cediric or Calderwuggenbum?
Why call me Jack? The whole planet is covered in Jacks.
Jack and Jill. Jack Sprat. Jack the Giant Killer.
Jack and the Bean stalk. Jack and this and Jack and that. Union Jack. Everyone was Jack.

Little Jack Horner.
Jack in the box.
The House That Jack Built.
Little Jack Jingle, Jack-a-Dandy, Jack Rowland, Jack Tar, and Black Jack Davy.
The list went on.
All losers.
Murderers.
Thieves and Buccan-ears. (except for Jack Foster who has small ears and is a good bloke)

And on. 
Even in French - Frere Jacques. And one called Frost:  "Look out! Look out! Jack Frost is about! He's after your fingers and toes!"
So many, many Jacks!

Finally, frustrated and fabulously confused, our Jack, nimble and quick, sat down in a huff.
He was tempted to sit in the corner.....
But, not wanting a demarcation dispute, decided not to.


Meanwhile, a few feet away, the small red flame of the candlestick flickered toward him, beckoning.
Jack looked out of the corner of his eye, peered at the candle and it's flame.
"I won't do it," he said aloud to the candle. "Once I've jumped over you ..... well, it's all over, isn't it?

The candle flickered back accusingly.
"And then what?" Jack said.
"And then what?" the candle seemed to ask.
"Hmmph, "said Jack. "They'll print me out on some cheap paper,  stick me in another Mother Goose, give me some silly cute face, spread my skinny legs over the candle as if I am an olympic vaulter vaulting over a cage full of lions.
"The first kid to see it will go giggle giggle gargar goop and then most likely puke some half masticated Johnson's Baby Food on the page so it sticks together and the next time it's open  they'll rip me in two. Riiippppp, just like that."

End of Jack!

Jack waved his hand around in agitation.
His waved it around. And around. Faster and faster.
But his hand froze in mid air as the candle flickered a little and began to sputter.
Jack's mouth opened wide.
The candle had never done that before.
The candle sputtered again.
Jack's eyes popped in disbelief.
For an instant he took in the candles' bright light.
For an instant he felt the warmth of it's friendly, flickering, faithful, fancy, fickle, felicitious, finicky, feeble, facetious, floribund, fibrillatingly fragile flame.

Then, without any warning, and with the eensey wheensy smallest of noises, the candle blinked out.
Blink.
Blank.
The world went black.
Jack blinked once.
He blinked twice.
He opened his eyes. He shut them.
But no matter what he did, the candle didn't come back.
The candle was dark, the candle was black.
The whole world was black.

Jack sat in the dark for a long time, looking towards the candle.
He sat there all night.
And in the morning, when the sun came up, the world was still black.
Still he sat there.
He sat there all day. And the next day, and for the next. And for the next.
He sat there waiting. And waiting.

Red Riding Hood Atop Grey Wolfe

I think Red Riding Hood was full of suprises in the olden days. Why, for example, was she wearing a 'riding' cape? Of course the wolf looks like it is made of wood but that's something I need to explore.... Learning from k.h.whitaker, I put some pattern in. :)

Thanks for looking.

As you can tell, the surf was flat today. Please click for enlargements.

There Was a Crooked Man....

Well I had a go at this the other day and screwed it up bigtime, so that was my task for today... to salvage what I'd made.  You can see that I am absorbing a few influences from the excellent artists who post their work on blogs, especially spindlemaker..... In answer to an anonymous comment by a friend, that is a crooked walking stick in the crooked man's hand.... Please click for big.

PS my anonymous friend is a wonderful artist and taught me at college and well worth having a look at:

His name Robert Birch.  Please click his name to view his work.

The small image on the bottom is an experiment in style. Instead of outlining the figure with a black 'pen' in photoshop I used the 'burn tool' set to burn medium tones. I think it worked slightly better because it maintained the underlying colour.

'

As always, thankyou for looking. Apologies for being frivilous.

Humpty Dumpty

Humpty Dumpty 

In Sixteen Hundred and Forty-Eight

When England suffered the pains of state

The Roundheads lay siege to Colchester town

Where the king's men still fought for the crown

There One-Eyed Thompson stood on the wall

A gunner of deadliest aim of all

From St. Mary's Tower his cannon he fired

Humpty-Dumpty was its name

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

Well this is an odd verison from Wikipaedia!

 The image is a play with digital collage. I rendered all the objects in 3d with this image in mind, then cut and pasted and bashed them together. It was once again fun..... I've been watching some great textural collage from Janne and Karen and hoping to absorb some lessons!

see  http://www.spindelmaker.com/

and  http://puddleofcrumbs.blogspot.com/


There's about nine variations here.

Once again, thanks for looking.

Old King Cole: WIP: Detail

Please find enclose a detail of the WIP, tempted to put smoke in his pipe but instead I put a small tear in his eye....

and the most popular version of Old King Cole....

Old King Cole was a merry old soul

And a merry old soul was he;

He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl

And he called for his fiddlers three.

Every fiddler he had a fiddle,

And a very fine fiddle had he;

Oh there's none so rare, as can compare

With King Cole and his fiddlers three.

Old King Cole: Work in Progress

 

Well there wasn't any surf today..... I've been working on this for a few days, trying to find the right angle and the right lighting. Very hard to do with a few character's geting them all to inter-relate. I was tempted to go the dark way. There's a few variations here if you'd like to look....

The story of Old King Cole is quite interesting.

Good King Cole,

And he call'd for his Bowle,

And he call'd for Fidler's three;

And there was Fiddle, Fiddle,

And twice Fiddle, Fiddle,

For 'twas my Lady's Birth-day,

Therefore we keep Holy-day

And come to be merry.

 

I made an exciting discovery today, how to emulate pigment drop out in water colour in my photshop elements program. Now to use it somewhere....

Little Miss Muffet

 
 

 

Little Miss Muffet

Sat on a tuffet,

Eating her curds and whey;

Along came a spider,

Who sat down beside her

And frightened Miss Muffet away.


Well there is a story to this one. Why is Miss Muffet dressed as a Geisha Girl?  Why is she sitting on a mushroom and not a 'tuffet'? What is Reginald doing in the background? What's that gluggy stuff she is eating?

Illustration from: "The Memoirs of Sir Reginald Farquar, Bounder and Scoundrel" Chapter VII, pages 561-564: (Houghton and Gough 1978; copyright, 1978 Sir Reginald Farquar)

Rub-a-Dub- Dub

Rub-a-dub-dub,

Three men in a tub,

And how do you think they got there?

The butcher, the baker,

The candlestick-maker,

They all jumped out of a rotten potato,

'Twas enough to make a man stare.

Well, I'm sure that wasn't the version that I recall from childhood, but it sounds pretty funny (at least it has a "t'was" in it!). These chaps have beer tankards on the supposition that "tub" is rhyming Cockney for "Pub." I don't know whether this is finished yet, or I'll work on it a wee bit more. I have a feeling I'll dig up some more Nursery Rhymes. Oh the joy of being a kid, if not in the heart, but in the brain.....