Time Capsule

Time to put up with a little more of the autobiographical slant of this image blog. Well, you don't HAVE to put up with it, but here goes.

Going through your deceased parents' possessions can be an amazing trip through time, a way-back machine of sorts, without Mr. Peabody and Sherman. My parents weren't packrats, per se (okay, maybe my mother was to a certain degree), and so much stuff has been lost over the years, due to flooding and some mysterious 'leave-home-quickly-at-midnight' scenarios I had to go through as a kid. 

But I'm still going through a fair amount of stuff that my mom left behind as she made her final mysterious journey (she passed at noon, on the dot, the day that I told her, while she was in a coma, that I had to leave at noon that day and wouldn't be back till much later that night), so that I was with her at her last breath. But I digress.

My parents divorced long ago, yet my mom still had a number of things of my dad's that I'm now slogging through. I don't want to miss anything that would shed light on his early years, so piece by piece I sort out old receipts and work detritus from interesting photos and memorabilia. 

One photograph that slipped out from some newspaper clippings is one I hadn't seen before. It was a tiny little thing, probably a contact print from a small negative. I squinted to see any detail, and not having much success, I scanned it at 1200dpi and was delighted to look in on my dad in early WWII uniform with the WWI style helmet. He's the cocky young smiling chap to the right, in the image below, looking aMAZingly like I did at his age (he was 18 in this shot in the South Pacific—He lied about his age when he joined the army at 16 years old). So he's a corporal here, and looks fearless as he begins his deployment in the Pacific theater. It's like my scanner was a time machine window, looking back in time. It's fun to look forward to more photographs of that sort, still to come.

So, in the same box was this souvenir coconut, coming up on 70 years of age, and seeming quite pristine for its travels. As a kid, my family left homes in the dead of night, and yet this moonlit gal must have gone with us every time. My mom had said that she lost good silver and packets of letters on those  great escapes, and yet this coconut made it all the way to the future. Do you think there's a market for this kind of momento  on EBay or such? I don't want to keep it, but I'm sure not tossing it into a landfill.

And then there was this copperish tin can, below, that was sealed tight with a lid that wouldn't budge. Something made some clatter when I shook it, but it wouldn't open up. It looks like an old K-ration can, but what amazing thing could be inside? My wife was thinking maybe it had some ammo or explosive gimcrack from the theater of war, and I pictured maybe currency from one of the number of islands that my dad waded ashore to help liberate. Whatever it could be, I thought, wow, this is truly a time capsule, and my curiosity made me try harder to pry open, which I finally did.

HA! There were SOAPS knocking around in there, still smelling fragrant and fresh, and a set of nail clippers (!?). World War II vintage souvenirs. I was slightly disappointed, hoping it would be something that could help put my daughter through the next two years of college, but still delighted in getting to know my young parents a little bit more as I delve into these boxes. 

Monkey Biz

So, this is what New Yorkers do on cold wintery nights. 

I feel warmer already.

Quintana — New York Nights — February, 1937

Jack Frost

Cold? Yes, it's downright f-f-f-frosty.

Ub Iwerks — Jack Frost — 1934

Fendi

It's c-c-c-cold where we are. Hope yer stayin' warm where u r.

Karl Lagerfeld — for Fendi

Romantic Enchantment

I have a sincere fondness for images of romantic enchantment, and many artists of today are just as wonderful as masters of the old days, though utilizing some new artistic media, such as digital tools, as evidenced with this lovely image by Laura Diehl.

©2011  Laura Diehl — Golden Fish

K-Reek

These two images tumbled out together from a partial spill of my image morgue — a splendid example of my little world laughing at itself.

 Curt Swan —Superman — 1970s

Robert Crumb — self-portrait — 1989

Mighty Interesting

I don't know anything about the story that this illustration by Walt Scott was for, but it looks mighty interesting, mighty interesting indeed. Very nice wash technique, says I.

Walt Scott — magazine illustration — 1940s

I do believe that Walt Scott is the same fellow who turned out some comic books back in the late 40s/early 50s about 'Little Folk' or 'Little People' or some such title, akin to the Teeny-Weenies and Walt Kelly's Brownies.

Christmas Gifts

Georges Lepape — Vogue — December 7, 1929

French Frails

Here's a jaunty little number from the age of flappers. Looks like a couple of French frails flitting about in their flivver. 

l'officiel de la Couture et de la Mode de Paris — November 1927

Way Up North

It's a little less than 3 weeks till Christmas, but this image shows what I like to think is going on right now, way up north — at least according to the vision of Carl Barks (the GOOD duck artist, as we Dell Comic aficionados like to say). Yes, Virginia, Barks painted more than just Scrooge and the boys.

I like that he has animal helpers, 'stead of them nasty little elves — the woodpeckers are a hoot and a half—'specially the test pilot.

©1979 Carl Barks — Santa's Work Shop 

Thimk!

Sometimes I think I could solve some of the world's problems if I could just have a few days with no distractions whatsoever. Sometimes on my nature walks I think, that's it! That's it! I've solved one of the vexations of (wo)mankind! But then I have no follow-through to  transmorgraphie my thoughts into actions. My mind gets weary and soon I'm distracted by some shining gewgaw with pretty colors. 

The little cartoon sketch below is something I doodled years ago, while I was working on a prehistoric culture exhibit, that reflects my reflections. Most of the time my brain is zombie food.

Really, just a few days with NO distractions, I know I could . . . I could . . . now what was I talking about?

Buchanan

Four Words

 Colorful.

Stunning.

 Fan-tab-la-glorious.

Moebius.

1980

Special Number

An Art Nouveau cover from 105 years ago:

Vogue — December 5, 1907

The Arrival of Saint Nicholas

St. Nicholas is, of course, a grand saint. And Santa Claus really seems to be a separate entity working in association with the saint. Nicholas, I think, is the pope of the holiday and Santa maybe the head cardinal? And then all the millions of Santas spread around the world that are scaring all the little kids in the malls and on street corners are the faithful bishops and knights and pawns?

I dunno. 

Anyway, here is a lovely depiction, by Hergé, of a grand arrival of Saint Nicholas, certainly emulating His Holiness, the Pope. And it looks like Homer Simpson's granddad must have been one of triplets back in the day.

Hergé —The Arrival of Saint Nicholas — 1936

De Rigueur

This is a friendly notice that any correspondence and requests to Santa should have been e-mailed by now, or no later than the next day or so — due to high volume and low band width. The North Pole Post Office has been shut down for several years now, and emails, brief and to the point, are de rigueur. I've heard that one of the recent viruses has infected the North Pole website, so even that may be shut down for the season. If your requests aren't filled this year, that may be the reason.

My little snail mail to Santa, shown below, was mailed when I was but eight years old and evidently somehow made its way back to my mother's care, where I found it just yesterday as I was going through more of her papers. Pretty good printing for an eight year old, I'm proud to say. Likewise I'm beaming proud that my requests WERE fulfilled, including the item for my brother, which sits on a shelf display to this day, many many many years later. The Cape Canaveral set — played to death oh so long ago. And I guess I've always liked coloring and recoloring — just ask my clients.

Hey, I Love This Guy!

By popular request (one of you) (yay), the Robert Crumb introduction to the previous post's komic of Harvey Kurtzman, one of the (great) cartoon geniuses (and there have been so many of 'em) of the 20th century (of course Crumb himself is one of them there), and . . . good lord, I've used so many parentheses in this sentence I forget where I was going with it . . .

Thanks, Sim, for the request. Crumb's intro is worth the time to read, and especially about Mr. Bad Taste  himself, HMH.

Robert Crumb — intro to Kurtzman Komix — 1976

Pygmalion Complex

I think there may be a bit of a Pygmalion complex in most artists, and as the creator of Annie Fanny, well —yeah!

© Harvey Kurtzman estate — Kurtzman Komix — 1976

Finally, a label (below) that fits perfectly! (snort, chuckle)

Girl in a Glass

Leo Putz — Girl in a Glass — 1902

Randomly

For a while now, until I get caught up with my misbegotten schedule, I'm going to only post random images with little or no comment, and/or little or no information about them. 

The images are randomly filed in my image morgue as they serve as inspiration when my mind is numb—and I apologize in advance if it's an image of yours that I should have credited in one way or another. If YOU feel inspired to comment and/or supply missing information, I always love to hear from you. 

Between my business projects and family plans I won't have time to comment much until sometime in January, though I will try to keep posting up images as often as I can.

Take care of each other, we're all in this mess together.

K. Givian? — unknown title

Special Denizen

The Disney universe is an odd duck, so to speak. Much of it is loved, globally, and much of it is criticized for its white bread values. Under various bosses, its film library has wandered all over the map, and considering its immense success, it's hard to critique it in general. Known as the 'Disney version', classic fairy tales have been sanitized and sentimentalized, and has 'corrupted' generations of little minds to a princess mentality. Not a horrible thing, but disturbing if it becomes obsessive.

These days, efforts are made to correct some of the idealism, such as in "Brave" (though the little heroine is still a princess and somewhat ideal).  Where are the average but extraordinary little girls?

Ah, Lilo and Stitch, one of my favorite latter-day Disney creations, presents Lilo with her 'ordinary' modern day frustrations of family issues, compounded by the 'extraordinary' problems of a little extraterrestrial — Stitch — a characterization that I find very entertaining. Lilo is a very enjoyable characterization as well, but I think that Stitch, with his manic-depressive personality, is a special denizen of the Disney universe.

 The Disney Studio — "Stitch"

The Disney Studio — "Stitch"

Time-Honored Tradition

Many a time an artist under deadline or other pressures finds the need to 'resource' an image, basically stealing it, for composition, poses, or 'authentic' details. Many of the great illustrators of the past had the financial resources to hire models, pose, light them, etc, as well as spend time at the museum or riffle through old National Geographics to steal images as well.

I confess that I've appropriated images more than once, and quite blatantly, as I faced a deadline and couldn't begin to think of using models. I do make efforts to transform the stolen images into something new (I especially recall painting a mural for a museum depicting an Aztec battle skirmish, showing men wounded and falling in action, where I used photographs from Sports Illustrated that showed tennis players flinging themselves around the court in agony, anguish and tantrums as they fought to win at Wimbledon). 

Anyway, it's a time-honored tradition for artists to steal from the best, which is demonstrated here, as pointed out by Ken in the previous post, wherein the bottom image of Wally Wood and Joe Orlando is appropriated from an earlier painting by Dean Cornwell of an ancient slave auction. The resemblance is unmistakable even as we see that little changes were installed as well.

Fascinating to see the source, and thank you Ken for recognizing the similarity to the painting so precisely that was displayed on Armand Cabrera's interesting blog (Art and Influence) which you can access here.

Dean Cornwell — Ancient Slave Auction —early 20th century

Wally Wood / Joe Orlando — Space Detective — 1951

Inside Front Covers

The late Joe Kubert had probably the record for the longest career in comic books, from the early days in the '40s to just recently. His art style was highly distinctive all that time, though it did evolve consistently. The quality of his style took a leap upward in the early '50s, seemingly quite suddenly. But the first item below seems to be a 'missing link' in his evolution. It has hints of years to come, while still showing youthful experimentation. Even his signature is experimental, rarely used elsewhere like that.

This was an inside front cover for Avon Periodicals, a publisher with a propensity for assigning the best artists to create pen and ink illustrations to 'draw' readers inside the comic, assuming the cover also did its job. As the samples further below showcase, many of those inside covers were by Everett Raymond Kinstler, an illustrator in the making, and Wally Wood with Joe Orlando—two of the most compelling comic book artists of the 1950s.

All of these gentlemen were helping to keep the Golden Age of comic books alive as long as possible, until smothered by the oppressive Comics Code Authority.

 Joe Kubert — Attack on Planet Mars — 1951

 Everett Raymond Kinstler — The Phantom Witch Doctor — 1952

Wally Wood/Joe Orlando — Space Detective — 1951

SANCtuary

Don't you want, sometimes, to escape to an island? I'd build a sanctuary somewhere in the high rocky quadrant. This particular island can turn into two islands at high tide.

Sigh. I guess this is another sign of depression.

Humor is Truth

Humor is truth in disguise. I love the gag in that first panel.

Braudis & Truxaw — Dr. Katz

Here's My Sign

I'm finding lately that my sleeping hours are more pleasurable than my waking hours. Isn't that a sign of depression?

Tullio Pericoli —self portrait —1980s

Underground World

This is gorgeous art deco storyboard art for one of the animated Superman films of the '40s. If comics could be illustrated this way, I think comic books would make their way to more people. In fact, really, why not comic books that are more 'illustrated' than 'cartooned'?

I love that throne!

Animation story board art — The Underground World — 1943

With Trembling Pseudopods

Among many talented cartoonists over the years, Will Elder was one of the top, even though he specialized in satire, and much of it with his compatriot Harvey Kurtzman.

Originally published in Trump magazine in 1957, this illustration satirizes good girl pulp illustration from a decade before. Elder brings his usual 'chicken fat' (extra little sight gags) to the drawing and shows that he could have given Virgil Finlay a run for his money if he had seriously worked for the pulps.

Will Elder — Trump magazine — 1957

Welcome to My Nightmare

No, no. Don't let the title of this post mislead you. My computer is still working. I'm pushing it really hard so that if it fails again, it might derail during the slightly extended warrantee on the recent repairs.

I love any art that Drew Struzan creates, and here he channels JC Leyendecker who also never failed to deliver enjoyment for the eyes.

Drew Struzan _ record album cover

Send in the Clowns

Don't Bother. They're here.

My apologies to anyone suffering from Coulrophobia.

Ringling Bros & Barnum & Bailey poster — 1928

Cresting the High Wave

Well, well, well, I appear to be back in ship shape order . . . I hope. 

I'm skimming the surface of various applications, apprehensive of hearing the theme from Jaws. But at this point, I'm cresting the high wave, and seeking calm on the far side. I've a lot of work to catch up on, but I wanted to say 'hey' and hope to see more of you sailing through here again. 

And yes, after taking the longest possible time, the geniuses from Apple called me in on Black Friday to pick up my machine. Aarrrghhh.

Hal Foster — Prince Valiant panel — 1940s

Pointing the Way

We had a great Thanksgiving get-together with our extended family of long time friends. Amazingly, I didn't over-eat, and I didn't over-stress that Apple still hasn't returned my computer, and has probably ruined my credibility with clients.

I'm thankful for a great many things, including all of you for being such nice cyber-folk.

I'm still having to rely on my iPad to supply me with "pictorials" to post. This is a sweet little guy hanging in the hallway, pointing the way to the studio water closet. I got him from a thrift store for a hard-earned 99 pennies.

BEWILDERED

Still no computer tonight. I am bewildered.

This is a shot of my constant studio companion, Rango by name, with his pet gerbil. These two accompanied me when I used to put on art demonstrations at elementary schools. Notice the hairspray on the shelf---it makes excellent fixative for charcoal drawings. You'll have to click on the image to see the whole picture, my iPad doesn't let me have any control over the size.

I'm trying to stay calm, but I am bewildered with Apple.

The Apple of My Eye-yi-yi

I've been told that the part for my computer arrived today and that my repair is on the bench this evening. I inquired as to which part was so elusive that it took so long to obtain. The video card. I calmly informed the polite Apple person that I had a work order that showed that a video card was replaced by them on October 24 and I wondered why it took nearly a month more to determine by the geniuses that the video card was the culprit (again?) and to lay their hands on the part in time to install it on the very day that my deadline was due so that I would now have to work on Thanksgiving Day and the following week so that my client was late to their client and would lose a large portion of their fee, insuring that my @55 was gonna be grass.

Or words to that effect.

The polite employee politely stonewalled me. When I asked if I could expect my machine to be in my hands tomorrow in fine working order, he politely hemmed and hawed that barring other problems---"hopefully".

If I ultimately have to go in and pick it up on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday---the busiest shopping days of the year, I'm going to show up with my daughter's old red wagon to haul my VERY heavy machine the mile or more that I'll probably have to park from the mall that the Apple store is in the middle of.

And then I'll get busy on the letter that I'll be sending to Apple's CEO. I don't fault the various employees that I've dealt with over these past few weeks. I blame the company for the lack of professionalism, communication, and organization. They're busy bragging about their sales of gizmos, while my business is spiraling down the drain without my most essential production tool.

My posted image tonight is a photo I just snapped with the iPad that I'm writing this post with, hunting and pecking one letter at a time.

This is my favorite reading lamp, next to me now, in my 1940s style studio (especially now with the big empty space on the desk where my 21st century magic machine would otherwise be sitting if it wasn't for a very special video card that has taken nearly a month to hunt, capture and send by runner from somewhere in the far reaches of our planet.

Peace be with you through the Thanksgiving weekend.

Mandala of Goodness

I STILL don't have my big magic machine (they are replacing every gd part to give me a new machine in the old shell). I--I don't understand the 21st century way of doing business.

In the meantime, I have my LITTLE magic machine and I'm breaking out my personal photos so that I have SOMEthing of an image to share with you.

Like a mandala of goodness, this is a fruit pizza our daughter made before going to London to study. It tasted as wonderful as it looks, made of peaches and plums and kiwis and other fruits and cream cheese and pie crust and oh I miss our daughter.

And I miss my computer.

Hhrrrmmmmmmmmm

At the rate that my computer repair is taking, I might as well take in my shingle, go out of business and go bankrupt. I'll be the guy you see pushing a grocery cart around town while using an iPad.

Gleep beep buzz whirrrrr . . . Wtf Eeeeeeee

Glub Glug Glurgle

Hang on Sloopy. Sloopy hang on.

Demons

Well, here I am again, and barely. I am not finding closure with my computer woes. After handing over my beloved computer thrice to the Genius Bar, I have to go in for a fourth time, for the exact same problem as the three times before. I've only got a few days left on my extended warrantee and I fear that I'm being stalled until my time has expired, and then it's "whoops, too late sir, maybe it's time to buy a new computer". And perhaps it is time, as I am losing credibility with my clients and cannot afford the long terms of holding my machine and then not returning it in working order. 

I've been able to limp along between screen freezings by saving my work every 30 seconds or so and then, sure enough, sooner or later, wtf, it's done it again. And when I reboot, the screen jiggles and wiggles and gives me the razz.

Well, all this whining is to explain . . . once again . . . why my posts are rare-ish, and why there won't be many this coming week . . . no comPUter! I love my Mac, but the customer service has been lacking  and was even rude to me when I last picked up my machine.

I believe in the spirit of Apple and Steve Jobs. But sometimes I feel like demons are gnawing on my bones.

Sanjulian —Demons

Loco and Looney

Ding bing, dog bonnet and shukaloo! This computer is still acting loco and looney. It's been in to the fix-it people 3 times in the last couple weeks and I've gotta take it in again tomorrow. My work schedule is like a pile up on a foggy mountain highway. 

A person can be loyal to someone or something that they love and yet still be ticked off at 'em. I love my Mac, but if it isn't fixed this time, I'm gonna be thinking about a quick divorce from it.

Judge magazine — 1931

Hope to be back with you soon!?!

Gothic Manner/Manor

The character of Batman has been drawn by a plethora of artists and interpreted in a multitude of ways. Yet it all started with Bob Kane, though quickly he became more of a publicity hound as other artist and writer ghosts toiled in his shadow. 

Still, among a number of brilliant Batman artists, it is this somewhat crudely drawn image by Kane that set the tone and manner for the best interpretations to come. Early on, Batman was of a gothic manner, here looming over a gothic manor, and ventured into mystery before turning his full attention to thugs and gangsters and the occasional alien or two.

Bob Kane — Batman to the Manor Borne 

Andromeda

Here's another mythological scenario, though not so bucolic as previous posts, in fact rather chaotic what with the all the floral foo-fah-rah. At first glance, with this image, I thought it was by Rubens — but it's not. I had a mild crush on Rubens' work back when I was attending the Art Institute of Chicago, especially the mythological richness and complexity he could imbue, but I haven't looked at his work for years now. I'll have to seek out his oeuvre to see how I feel about it all now. In the meantime, this is Andromeda and Perseus by Filippo Falciatore, the Italian artist of the 1700s, who painted a fair amount of mythological allegories himself. 

I have quite a few images of Andromeda and Perseus that I thought I would post all together, but I have them all filed by artist and not by subject, so I will end up just having them posted here and there. Most all of them have Andromeda as having been stripped naked in her plight, and yet when they made movies about this adventure Andromeda is pretty modestly dressed. Go figure.

Filippo Falciatore — Perseus Rescuing Andromeda

I love the name Andromeda. If I was to have another daughter (which I won't) I'd be tempted to name her 'Andromeda', not for this daughter of an Aethiopian King, but for the beautiful galaxy which we will one day merge with.

The Voice of Pan

More pastoral tranquility and innocence . . .

Emile Aubry — La Voix de Pan

A Weakness

Mythological scenes are a weakness of mine, appreciating the magic and mystery of a pastoral life. But if I were truly there I might miss Coca Cola and Charmin . . . and my iPad. 

So maybe it's best that I gaze at these kinds of images from the armchair in my den . . . on my iPad.

Charles Natoire — Orpheus Charming the Nymphs & Animals

Oh, How the Twenties Did Roar

Das Plakat — 1921

Windy Nights

'Tis a windy night where I am, spooky and drear. I love it. Here be a fine illustration to accompany a bit of verse from Bobby Stevenson.

Eric Kincaid — Windy Nights