Christmas Card Offer

I've got left over Christmas Cards for anyone who'd like to have one. Just email me your mailing address at brianiswells@gmail.com and I'll send one your way. Each is high quality matte print. Quantities are limited, so first come, first serve.

Episode 01: Process 02

You won't see this cover again until the book is finished.

The Times They Are A-Changing

Santa Claus hasn't changed much since the 19th Century, even if the toys he delivers have. An illustration for my family's annual Christmas Card.

Episode 01: Process 01

Beginning work in earnest on the cover. Still far from complete, but the basic elements are in place. I'll let the story explain some of the abstractions.

A sketch of Geira's leader, known (for now), simply Madame Minister. Age seems to hit like a brick in Archetype–I confess, it's only because the old are much more fun to draw.

All of Archetype's action takes place in Altusbein, the so-called World of Worlds, a place of staggering age and size that defies every attempt at comprehension. In the more civilized areas, thousands of cultures may exist in cramped quarters. Trying to create this kind of cultural immersion is a bit tricky. To handle the multifaceted language barrier, I've borrowed a trick from Bill Watterson's Calvin and Hobbes and replaced the foreign sounds with a kind of symbol language.

That's all for now.

Archetype Est.

No formal painting this week. After, oh, ten thousand hours or so, I'm finally reaching the point where Archetype is something bookish. Above is an early comp for the cover. Expect a (pretty rough) sampling of the interior in a few days.

In a Mirror, Darkly

These self portraits are pretty experimental, so I don't always know how they'll end up. This one turned out a bit, well, Caligula. Which is surprising, as it's been an alright Thursday, by and large.

Phoebe

Of the Titans, who never really got a fair shake.

Sequel.

Hello, again. Long time no see. As you may have noticed, this blog looks a bit different. The change of wardrobe coordinates with my updated main site.

If you'd like to have a look, it's viewable here:

http://www.brianiswells.com/

Regular blog posts should recommence shortly, so don't wander too far.

Boo!

Ah, that's better. Things were getting a bit frilly around here.

In the Flowers

Guardian of the Valley (Finale)

100 hours later, I'm calling it done. I haven't been so exhausted or educated by a piece in a while. My gift to you on the this happy eve? The biggest, highest quality png google will allow me, plus, for the first time ever, detail shots.

Yin-Yang

Self portraits are a good way to study observational principles and technique...

... but I hate appearing over-serious.

Please Hold.

All of our operator is currently engaged in designing a website. Your viewership is important to us. Please enjoy the following B-Sides while you wait.

The Rabbit Hole is Deep

A second pass on 'Guardian of the Valley,' aka 'The Mountains of Madness.' Easily the longest execution for a single painting in a long time–it'll probably get another once over before being incorporated to the new site look.

Whateley

Lovecraft reminds you to go mad while you still have the chance.

Stand Alone Complex

Echo! I guess this is my response to 'Up'? I didn't dawn on me until near the end, but there's some pretty solid visual similarities here to Pixar's helium odyssey and a few responses I've seen since. The subject matter is actually pretty different, but I've ended up oddly convergent. (Apologies all around!)

Oh, if you haven't seen 'Up,' you should do so. It's, well, an upper.

Guardian of the Valley

Hmmm... the png version is lacking oomph, unfortunately... Looks like I'm going to have to figure out how to navigate Blogger's color settings...

Still here.

My once a week ideal has fallen a bit off the rails of late–I apologize. I've been short on time, and working a lot on a new identity/website. I'll be back as soon as I can... Thank'ee kindly for your understanding.

Magnetic

Nothing but Lies and Pictures of Also Lies.

As part of my General Life Over-Complication Plan, I refuse to post actual photos of myself on Facebook–I paint these instead. For those of you wondering, I actually look like Kermit the Frog. Flippers and everything. 

The Myth of Sisyphus

So the topic was Stubborn, and, in retrospect, the connection seems a little indirect. Sisyphus is most known for his futile lot, but I figure anyone giving more than a half hearted push on the eight billionth go-round must be a bit hard-headed.

Fortuna

Time is an illusion.

And thank heavens for that.

Now for something completely different.

And with that, I am officially shot for a little while. My fingers are protesting incessantly at too many long hours, and my brain is apt to join the picket lines. We'll call this the painting for the week, I need some time off to recover.

The Big Sleep

Been a while since I used Painter. It's good to return to a medium that's a little less abstract once and a while, especially as my Photoshop is more and more reliant on splicing graphs.

Never Say Die

Another four hours never hurt anything. Except my hand. Carpal Tunnel, here I come!

Mr. Shiftlet

Squalor Victoria

I haven't said anything in a while, have I? Seems like it, anyway–I'm accustomed to nattering. This one was made pretty quickly, as nice days can be pretty disasterous for my productivity. That's probably why so many really great authors lived in the foggy ice torn islands of the bitter European north. Dickens was so thoroughly surrounded by malevolent attitude and sullen, stick-to-itive damp that writing about the struggles of orphans was his only in-road into a sunny world.

I, however, have a mild fascination with pompous headwear.

Rook

Red-Breasted Lego Warbler

Close Enough.

That hand should be over an inch. Or his head more to the right. Also more fire. And, somehow, it isn't _bright_ enough. But it is Monday enough, and too little Sunday, so I suppose I'm done, and nary too soon for my sanity.

Yoof

Eminence Grise

I am become Febreze, the Destroyer of Smells.

Smells, for all their lymbic potency, are absent from pictures. Pictures must be sad about this.

...Wait, what? Nevermind. The topic was Malodorous. I tried to get by without stink lines or flies. After staring at it for a few hours, I'm not really certain what I think of the outcome.

Hard Times for a Prophet

Prophecy seems to be the ability to wander out into the desert and justify it afterwards. Don't get me wrong. There's a certain insensible romance to aimless ambulation that inspires deeper, less perishable thought. If you can put up with the vultures, then the desert may be the brute naive's paradise.

This title isn't.

Week 1: I did some math and I am a liar.

Turns out there are more days in 9 days than there are days in 7 days, therefore I am an outright fabricator, scoundrel, and general ne'er-do-well. Math is a pitiless master with a heart of quadratic loathing.

Commitment Issues

I take New Year's Resolutions really, really seriously. Enough so that they dictate much of my behavior for the rest of the year--I can't break them unless they are proven to be impracticable or incongrous with their intent. I have to be really, really careful about the ones I make, because I will tether myself to them like Ahab's whale. This is why it has taken me until eleven days _after_ the New Year to write the following:

I will update this blog once a week with a complete painting.

Godspeed, me. Other stuff coming down the pipeline: a new CSS website that will absorb and incorporate this material, and actual Archetype pages, thus far the Skunkape of my blog.

Edit: Also, I'll grammar and spell check these posts.

Liminal Messages

If you duct tape my mouth, squiggles come out of my ears.