Meet Frank. He’s travelling.
Ugh, you guys. Sometimes, you spend a whole afternoon working on a poster and only a quarter of it is usable.
Hey. It’s been a while since we’ve talked. Take a seat?
So, I spent the last few weeks working on a series of spot illustrations for video cards promoting Garfunkel and Oates' new show on IFC.
Got all that? I don’t.
Anyway, one of them’s a butt heart. Check ‘em out here.
From kindergarten to second grade, my school had us wear self-made shirts with our name on them for PE class. Somewhere in that timeframe, I remember my mom asking me what I would be putting on mine for that following year. Enthusiastically, I responded with something to the extent of “a skull! With a sword going through it! And there’s blood!” A hissing snake may’ve been involved too, I can’t remember at the moment.
Obviously horrified, she put an immediate kibosh on the Hell’s Angel imagery and did the shirt up herself as plainly as possible. The result was a less-than-exciting Gym class, a Polaroid of the world’s surliest-looking six year-old (fig. 2), and a probable justification for why I am the way I am today.