When I was a kid my first book I ever wrote was about a skink who wore a soda bottle cap for a hat (hence his name "Pep C. Skink"), and a recurring plot point was the shedding of his tail. Bookend that with the bear skinning scene in Midsommar, it makes a fertile focal point for a funny.
It also served as an encapsulation of the unusually high numbers of mosquitoes that plagued Interior residents this past season as an excerpted spot illustration.
Continuing on with this recent spate of self-promotional postings and gigs around town (with watercolorists, beaver ecology and museum exhibitions) the folks over at The Alaska Current were kind enough to do a little feature on me in their continuing "Creative Currents" series spotlighting some of Alaska's amazing talent. Special thanks to Sam, and bookmark their website for other statewide news + follow 'em on Facebook too. Also I was alerted to how remiss I've been at properly crediting for the Significant Otter who actually snapped the picture of me after chasing me around the trails in Denali long enough to capture the moment. Oh, and promise I'll get right on that "painting & printmaking."
One of the reasons I grew up as an atheist had to do with being raised (exposed) throughout my adolescence to a steady diet of two main themes: fairy tales and mythology. By the time I was taken to a fundamentalist church, I already possessed enough skepticism and independent thought to question what was being said, something the majority of family members and friends that grew up in such an environment never had the opportunity to learn about anything outside their narrow perspective - truly a Promethean undertaking. What they still suffer from is similar to the siloing effect we see currently fraying the social fabric.
And so instead of dwelling on that, let's instead take a moment of appreciation for just about anything that Ridley Scott does - in particular here, the 2012 film "Prometheus." This and "Covenant" take their places next to the Alien Quadrilogy of extended director's cuts.
Or, you can just as easily leave trash bags in the back of your pickup truck unattended. On a more serious note, take a moment to reflect upon the life of Richard Nelson, who belongs in the same flock as David Petersen, and who taught many of us about the life of Alaskan animals such as the raven, and who I learned more about praying than from any preacher.
Here's a little teaser for an upcoming gig back at the University of Alaska's Museum of the North. Along with a hundred other artists, my work - both as a cartoonist and also as a drawing instructor - will be featured a part of an exhibit that'll run for almost nine months, titled "Thinking Made Visible" (direct links here to videos for "Sketching the Glacier Bear" and "Sketching the Beaver"). Absolutely great footage shot & mixed on-site by the director of exhibits, and seeing firsthand all the outstanding effort, time and energy put onto every wall at the museum by all of the awesome staff of designers, perparators and student assistants - they really know how to put on a show!
It's been since 2017 that I had a solo show up at the museum, but I'm on site each and every semester leading my posses of aspiring talents on sketching field-trips every semester for many years. It's an outstanding resource for research, reference and inspiration, basically a big ol' box stuffed with stuff to draw - every trip I always discover something new, and the students plenty to draw upon for their upcoming pen & ink assignments. Included here as a special bonus for this post are two recent demos that I just did a few weeks ago for a couple Beginning Drawing classes this very semester. In fact the originals of each (ballpoint + various Sharpies) will also be a part of the exhibit - along with my man-purse/gear bag and a small pile of actual sketchbooks from the studio.
I have a bad tendency to talk to the monitor and/or screen instead of directly engaging listeners with repeated eye contact. My bubbling, outgoing and vivacious personality while lecturing is pretty much a controlled panic reaction to being in front of people, and so actually locking eyes with anyone would derail my squirrelish attention span. Case in point on the videos you get the same exact view my wife usually gets of me when at home while I'm on the goddamned computer for hours at a time.
In the almost thirteen minutes between the two shorts (7.29 + 5.25) I manage to turn around only once - right at the end of the bear session, with a smartass quip about needing an applause sign, throwing money and saying “cut!” The flip side of that is I also never shut up the entire time, providing a running commentary on my process of sketching, defining Art, Love & God, and my fursona. While I might not be quite up to Bob Ross boss level – I even occasionally drift away while doing a demo and disengage entirely from communicating with speech – I can effectively walk AND talk… and chew all at the same time (if not weighty topics, then at least some gum).
It's all worth it if not just for the initial footage of sharpening a pencil with a knife (definitely frowned upon by official museum administration) whereupon I am shown deeply inhaling the aroma freshly-shaved pencil and uttering the timeless words “...because nobody ever sniffs a stylus” – which I, for one, am glad to have such a precious moment captured forever for posterity.
 |
| ...mmm... |
Texas is unfortunately being run by some really sick people, who foment horrible events in turn, while the majority of folks living there aren't at all deserving of the cruelty, misery and despair their state is associated with, populated by some real monsters.
Most of all this is an excellent example of how politics will
immediately kill off any joy - even a benign topic can elicit such
negativity. Still, making dumb jokes is by far the best way to win
against the forces of evil.
And the Texans I know personally all happen to have a great sense of humor. I mean, you'd almost have to. Like expat New Yorkers, it's a positive sign that they left. The one and only time I was in Texas represented the longest, most boring, and worst part of a multi-day bus trip across America to spend a birthday in the desert (having border agents board and shake down passengers trying to suss out illegals for example). Aside from that impression all I've been exposed to is the relentless and snide commentary from Alaskans about size matters.
As in, chilled and chilling. We are programmed to see the pantheon as figures in white marble so a full-color version doesn't quite sit right for the classicist, but they don't have a sense of humor anyways. Not to mention the big daddy of 'em all probably didn't shave all that much.
Final post of material culled from the collection of Alaska Cannabist magazine's "Baked Alaska" cartoon. After the jump is one more hit of the hit series - at least until the big reveal coming up this 4/20. Also I'll take this opportunity to thank you dear reader for spending time + attention on this fun little experiment that started six years ago. What a long, strange trip indeed...
 |
| (Photography by Marina Barbosa Santos/courtesy A-BON) |
One of the highest points of the academic year was a fun presentation to a conference of the Arctic Beaver Observation Network. Aside from providing comic relief, I managed to encapsulate, using Castor Canadensis cartoons, my career in both arts & education to a group of international scientists + Native folks from communities across Alaska, Canada and the UK.
The 3-day long event (here’s a link to an excellent summary) took place on the scenic top floor of the Akasofu building , a crown jewel of the International Arctic Research Center of the UAF Geophysical Institute. The organizer, Professor Ken Tape, is an ecologist who studies the northward expansion of beavers and their effects on the tundra. One example is when they dam in an area it floods and thaws the permafrost, hastening the effects of climate change.
 |
| (Photography by Marina Barbosa Santos/courtesy A-BON) |
We met first during the summer of my show at Ester’s new, seasonal café Flossie & Mays. Fittingly enough the bulk of the “Colony” exhibit was used as a backdrop in the main conference room, and at the close of my talk anyone who wanted to take one off the walls home with them could get the print signed and personalized. It was a really humbling experience with some new friends and fans.
 |
|
(Photography by Marina Barbosa Santos/courtesy A-BON) |
My opening line was to “bring STEAM into your STEM,” and through the use of humorous imagery I hoped to illustrate another side of Castor Canadensis – not of a tasty, furbearing pest, but a creature that is a perfect metaphor for how groups of animals can live in balance with the environment. In other words, while the expansion of their range is a symptom of global warming, they’re not the animal that’s at fault for creating this planetary disaster.
Bonus: Of special note was getting to show some work by an amazing local artist + acknowledge Troth Yeddha’ with another three-eyed beaver design by Navonne Benally (@menabashmedia) who I had just met setting up at the 50th annual Festival of Native Arts a few days earlier.
Last week I was invited to give a show & tell + demo to one of the oldest and most active local art groups in our neck of the woods. The fine folks at the Fairbanks Watercolor Society (website, Facebook, Instagram linkage) have monthly meetings held at Pioneer Park (aka Alaskaland) along with fieldtrips and workshops. Their 25th year anniversary group show will be at the Fairbanks Arts Association's Bear Gallery next month, and will showcase the breadth & depth of their membership's diverse range of skillsets and subject matter - an exhibition not to miss.
After an opening social, and brief business meeting, a good-sized crowd of about forty-something people attended the talk. The 45-mute slide show went over a bit compared to a couple rehearsals that kept one-hundred images at 30-minutes instead. That's on account of feeling so welcomed and relaxed, like talking to a bunch of friends. Then after a brief break a group gathered around the table for a half-hour demo on the process and my technique.
This was the second opportunity I've had to present before them: a decade ago was my first visit (back when I was less gray and skinnier), and it's probably taken that long for some of the them to recover from seeing how bad I treat my brushes - and definitely can't stay in the lines!
So realizing I am so far opposite the spectrum compared to many of the experienced watercolorists watching me, in a kind of way released me from any expectations, which lossens you up... not unlike doodling. In this instance I admit to the intimidation at the number of really, really talented practitioners, who probably look at me like a gorilla poking about with a stick. I know all too well my skillset in using watercolor medium - not that that will ever stop me from having so much fun with it. Your limitations are a starting point - I've always equated critiquing artwork with attending 12-step groups: there's always gonna be somebody "better" than you, and there's always gonna be someone "worse." But that's not what it's about - we're all learning from sharing, and learn from our mistakes, and are all here to help each other do some drawing.
One of the reasons I am particularly effective teaching the Beginning Drawing level (which over all of my years in the classroom has comprised the majority of my experience) is that I can relate to a lot of the issues facing them, whether it is not having enough hours in the day to work on art, to anxiety over meeting deadlines, and the existential stress staring at a blank sheet of paper. In other words, I have empathy with anyone who every time wonders to themselves "what am I gonna do?" and/or "how am I gonna do this?" That's when the fun starts, and and there's so much more possible than what will happen in reality: wake up, go to work, pump gas, order food, park and walk to the office etc. The panels boxing in the images don't restrict because they're are windows.
Thank you to the fantastic hosts!
These wonderland images via Vladimir Zhikhartsev and Phoebe Mae Flanagan courtesy Fairbanks Watercolor Society.
One of the comparative few panels scanned directly from the pages of the omnipresent sketchbook (hence the rarely-used header addendum designating the same). Done while sitting at the cafe, as there;s only two colors of wash in the man-purse: gray + brown, plus ballpoint + Sharpie + white gel pen. Speaking of Fine Art, I would routinely revisit the Rodin Museum whenever in Philly.
