Sunday, May 16, 2010

What A Compliment

Last night, I was attending an erotic art gallery opening reception with two friends. After viewing the art, we got some drinks and sat on the sofas to chill out and talk. And it was really a chill out area, as we were sitting in an area where there was quite a draft.

After a while, we started showing our artwork. I pulled out (GASP) a copy of GIRL: The Second Coming and showed it to one of my friends, an insanely lovely girl, and she began to read it. I half expected her to toss it aside, but, as she pointed out later, it was a perfect place to view such a book.

I noticed she was getting more and more into the book, even stopping to point out panels that she really liked. (There were quite a few of them.) At one point, she even asked me and my other friend to let her finish reading the book. So, we obliged. After all, watching a pretty girl reading one of my books is always a compliment-and very hot.

She made it through the book and, after a few sighs, handed the book back to me, sat back and realized she'd been sitting in a draft the whole time and hadn't even noticed. Once she'd stopped reading-and looking at the images-she'd gotten cold. She blushed a little as we all laughed at how one of my books can keep you warm on those cold nights.

Having her reaction was one of the greatest compliments I've ever gotten for my work and I'll never forget it. Like I said, watching a pretty girl reading one of my books is always a compliment-and very hot.

So, what did I do?

I pulled out (GASP) another one of my books...

Monday, May 10, 2010

So long, Frank

Bran Mak Morn, my favorite Frazetta painting. You can just feel these dudes rushing over that hilltop to slay your ass.

I got the first Frazetta art book from my friend Raphael de la Cruz in the 10th grade at the High School of Art and Design for five bucks, and he-Frazetta-became my main influence in art, showing me that the human body could be very forceful and emotional in telling a story. His work made me study anatomy more carefully and I learned the subtleties in musculature. In other words, I owe this man a lot for what I can do with a pencil, some brushes and paint, and a blank painting surface laid out before me-even though in my wildest dreams I know I can never be that good.

Damn, Frank. I never even got the chance to shake your hand to just say "thank you".

I guess I'll just have to wait a while longer.