Gibberings
Dad told me never to use XTREE when he wasn’t in the room.
July 18, 2008 ~ 10:03:17 PM * -07:00ST
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Log # 420
One at a Time
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Eliza Gauger on July 16th, 2008 ~ 04:19:44 AM
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Log # 418
The Horrible Story of Bat and How He Smaxed It Real Good, Once and for All
My worst enemy, Jhonen Vasquez, has a post over at his new “web log” that casts some light on the origins of the mysteriously popular Bat Smax oil painting:
As for how the thing came to be, well that’s the part I was getting to at the start before you acted like such a cretin and doubted me. See, one day, Gauger was sketching a little winged critter in her sketchbook, and being the respectful type I am famous for being, I snatched the book, said something along the lines of “Argghhlllbargh!” and did a quick revision of the same drawing, altering some of the angles, curves and overall proportions. She then took that image and…
Well, you’ll just have to discover for yourselves, how I managed to wrest creative control back from the flytrap-like grip of Mr. VEE. It involved punching him in the head, backwards, while looking the other way. I am that cool.
You got Bat in my Smax, bitch. [Mindspill]
by
Eliza Gauger on July 15th, 2008 ~ 08:10:30 PM
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Log # 407
Troll’s Progress
Troll is a character from an as-yet-unproduced webcomic about the adventures of a classically wicked gang of fantasy miscreants. I’ve been hired by the creator to handle concepting. In theory, my turnarounds will be handed over to the final artist, who will base his drawing of the actual comic on my designs. This piece is about 80% done.
by
Eliza Gauger on June 27th, 2008 ~ 07:14:46 PM
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Log # 405
Hot Nude Tea
One of my favorite rusty objects, some salvaged auto part, serves as a hotplate above a stubby candle. On the warm: a fresh batch of green chai.
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Sent from phone.
by
Eliza Gauger on June 27th, 2008 ~ 01:39:48 PM
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Log # 391
The Horror
by
Eliza Gauger on June 10th, 2008 ~ 11:30:00 AM
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Log # 389
Progress
With Bohren on the speakers and my copal medium turned to jell-o, I’m at the stage of painful tentativity with most of my current paintings. What next, what now. What colors. Maddening.
by
Eliza Gauger on June 9th, 2008 ~ 10:09:54 PM
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Log # 387
Oakland
by
Eliza Gauger on June 5th, 2008 ~ 07:02:21 PM
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Log # 386
Adam’s Commission - Nun Sketch
The Nun is my favorite of the group. The best part is the way her
cilia-like eyelashes are being pinched and splayed by the bandage. I’m
pretty goddamned excited to start on the paint for this one.
monster
by
Eliza Gauger on June 4th, 2008 ~ 11:04:44 PM
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Log # 375
Pre-Birthday Blastin’
I guess now would be the right time to say I never expected to spend a birthday blasting beetles out of bovid bones with a pressure hose, but you know what? I actually kind of did.
And I’m not complaining, either.
Tomorrow is my real birthday, of course. I expect offerings of gourmet teas, swank gift certificates, and cash on outstretched, trembling palms.
by
Eliza Gauger on May 4th, 2008 ~ 12:23:21 PM
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Log # 372
‘Pon the Road
I like the lone sunflowers on the median.They mark the step of some pied trucker, some Johnny Sunflowerseed, chomping and spitting robustly.
The milky muffle of the basin atmosphere fools me and for a moment, ravine walls peel away, and it looks like I’m going somewhere beautiful.
70 miles to Los Angeles, gentlemen. One hour to stow your valuables, strap up your smokesuits, prime your breathers, and smooth your cilia.
The milky muffle of the basin atmosphere fools me and for a moment, ravine walls peel away, and it looks like I’m going somewhere beautiful.
70 miles to Los Angeles, gentlemen. One hour to stow your valuables, strap up your smokesuits, prime your breathers, and smooth your cilia.
Should I really be texting on the freeway? No. Suggestions for Palm text-to-speech, anyone?
I am currently on this system’s desert world, as previously indicated, and burning through filter cartridges faster than is reasonable. Inside the bunker, machinations of the literal kind are afoot as I scramble to catch up with Etsy backlog. My printer took a huge shit, you see. And as usual, I am left holding the scoop.
