Deep Breaths

I've never been white-water rafting before, but this is sort of how I picture the experience... At around eight in the morning, you and your friends get in the rafts at the top of the river. The water is calm here... Peaceful. You're told that you will hit the rapids at around two or three in the afternoon, and that it will we a wild, thrilling, enjoyable ride. Awesome. Can't wait. So, you're hanging with your friends all morning, drinking some beers. You chat and sing river songs. You know that crazy ride is coming, but right now everything is just fun and relaxing.

At around noon, you hit a rough patch. The water speeds up a little bit and things get a little bit bumpy. Nothing you can't handle of course, but still exhilarating. This is your first glimpse of the rapids further down the line. Deep breaths... We're still having fun. Still Can't wait. As the bumps and fast bits start getting closer toghether, it gets a little harder to think about your conversations, and you have to concentrate a little bit more on (as Yoda would've said before Mr. Lucas ruined his universe) where you are, and what you are doing... Deep breaths.

Before long, it's two(ish) in the afternoon. The cooler fell overboard a few minutes ago, you think you might've lost your glasses forever, and the only thought in your head is how little you want to smash your head open on the rocks jutting out of the water all around you...

I got my new promo materials in the mail last week, so now I can start putting packets together to send out. I also have the brochure in the downloads section of my website, so if you would like to check it out, you can get it here: redherringillustration.com/downloads.

Still one more month until I'm a stay-at-home dad, and a full-time freelancer... I sure hope I can keep from hitting my head on those rocks. Deep Breaths...

Until next time, take care and be good.
Your friend,
Jeffrey

Daily Life 020: Speak no evil, See no evil, Hear no evil

We went to see the fireworks down in old town Saint Charles, by the waterfront on saterday. The show was great, and the kids loved it. Olivia sat and watched in silent awe. Abby thought the the great showers of sparks were too bright, so we offered her sunglasses to her. Which she gratefully accepted and then enjoyed the rest of the show. Our friend's son thought the pops and bangs were just a bit too loud, so he sat with his hands over his ears.

We had our own little parady of the monkeys that See, Hear, and Speak no evil. Happy fourth of July, everybody.

This is what happens when I clean the basement...

First off, I'd like to apologize for the horror show you are about to see... I don't know why, but every now and then folks who are in the arts like to trot out stuff that they did when we were kids. Maybe it's to offer encouragement to a younger generation ("See?! There was a time when I was even MORE awful at this!). Maybe it's to justify all the time we spend doing this (No, actually, I really don't spend all my time playing in the basement, ha-ha-ha!). Perhaps we just want to remember a time when even what we did was crap... at least we thought it was awesome. Or, it could be to prove that what we do is something we actually have to work at. I've known some people who seemed naturally gifted, and seemed to draw so easily. I'm not one of them. But this is what I've always wanted to do, so I worked at it. Daily. And I guess I do want to encourage people to do the same thing. Skills are learned and earned, and they build on each other.

At any rate. Last weekend, we cleaned out the basement. That means the storage rooms, the work/utility room, the studio and the family space. It's hard to put into words what all this entailed... But I'm going to give it a quick go, just to give you an idea. When we were finished, there were two bathtubs full of junk to send to goodwill (By that, I mean that stuff was stacked in the bathtub twice as high as the tub was deep). A full truck load of trash (Scrap lumber and metal, old paint and joint compound... boxes... that type of stuff.) We spent roughly twelve man hours sorting, moving, disassembling, sweeping and resetting-up. Going back over it, it seems like a ridiculous amount of work, that could have been avoided if we just hadn't let things pile up so much. Isn't that what everybody says when they clean out the basement?

Back to the point of the post, and the reason (I hope) that people look at this corner of the inter-web. Art. While sifting through old portfolios and boxes of art from high school and early college, I stumbled on these two (ah-hem) gems. I hope you don't hate me for scarring your eyeballs with what a thirteen/fifteen-year-old boy thinks is cool. Ha-ha-ha!

This First one, I'm pretty sure I drew in eighth or ninth grade. Wow. Check out the detailing on the armour. That's some classy stuff... and apparently, he had a lucky rabbits foot surgically grafted to his arm so that he could hold his rubber sword. We all have to start somewhere though, right?
This second one is... well, okay lets call it more ambitious. I was in tenth grade, and totally into punk music and comic books. Can you picture how cool I was? No? That's okay, I wasn't.
Thanks for taking this little trip down memory lane with me. Until next time, take care and be good!
Your friend,
Jeffrey