The Illustration Master Class. AKA Festivawesome!

The Illustration Master Class. Mount Olympia descends from the heavens for a week long sleepover with the Gods of Art. James Gurney, Jeremy Jarvis, Rebecca Guay, Donato Giancola, Boris Vallejo, Julie Bell, Scott Fischer, Don Dos Santos, Greg Manchess, Irene Gallo. Gods. If Zombie Rembrant showed up with an easel, no one would be surprised.



It began early for me, running into Jeremy Jarvis at the airport. Our connecting flight had gone insane. The "Flight departing at whatever" display could not make up it's mind. "Now boarding! No wait. Delayed three hours! Last call for boarding! Cancelled! On the runway!" People were turning back and forth like a school of fish chased by sharks.

So yeah, delayed enough that I'd missed my appointed Ultra-Econo-Trans-Quality-#1Shuttles ride. But Jeremy was gracious enough to let me ride in his... limo? That's right. The Gods travel in style. (I'm pretty sure Jim Gurney rode in on a golden chariot pulled by a team of pegasus. (Pegasuses. Pegasi? Horsebird gaggle.) Jeremy, being a humble fellow, was tragically embarrassed that the IMC had sent a limo for him, and tried to talk the driver into dropping us off in some shady, out of sight place. Also to mug us for good measure.

As students, our challenge was to create a compelling illustration from one of the following concepts: Beauty and the Beast, Jet Cycle Getaway, Joan of Arc, War Priest, or Frost Titan. We were supposed to arrive with sketches finished, ready for critique. I managed to scribble this before they got to me, like the kid who'd forgotten his homework.


-"So, it's a clown goblin orgy? Which one of the challenges does that fit into?"-

Even from this, they gave me some great direction. And no, it did not include "you're in the wrong building, remedial education is two buildings down. You can count to two, right? Don't forget your helmet."

We attended a safety lecture that made painting seem more dangerous than circumcising Godzilla, while he rampages through an on-fire minefield while radioactive acid meteors rain en masse. Despite this stern warning, we did have one safety related "incident." There were two studios, seemingly divided by partyability quotient. At some point, the safety officer said something to the effect of "We respect that you're all adults. But upstairs there's enough liquor to pickle the Kraken. We're pretty sure we saw some of you doing turpentine shots and linseed oil martinis, too. Maybe take it down a notch before someone cuts off their ear in a bout of inspiration?"

Over the week, we were treated to two lectures a day. (Moses only got the one!) Subjects ranged from composition, to shooting reference, to marketing your work, to renewing your love to paint. James Gurney gave two lectures, pretty well covering everything about creating a painting of something that does not exist. Greg Manchess delivered a stirring scientific lecture proving that "talent is total crap." It's study, practice, and work that counts. I could talk about all the fantastic lectures for days. They were that good.


-Working out the composition before detail. A rare case of me practicing what I preach.-

In the time between, we worked on our paintings, getting individual attention from each art god. Reveling in every moment. The Gods painted right along side us. We all stayed in the same dorm, ate at the same cafeteria, and before long it felt like a giant family. Except without the fighting about politics and questions about "where I'm going with my life," and "when I'm going to get a real job," and "why I cry Mountain Dew."


-A delightful bombardment of useful information, packed tighter than a uranium bomb, and twice as radioactive.-

Folks got to see first-hand my peculiar brand of building reference. I even introduced Jim Gurney to zBrush, and he sculpted an adorable little gnome face.


-"Now Steve, I know it's technically accurate, but it's a little distracting having all these flying stingrays with dangling naughty bits flapping in the wind."-

-Quick and dirty zBrush models, rendered in Maya.-

The IMC was incredible. I highly recommend it to anyone serious about art.


-This is apparently Donato kicking my foot away. Because he hates it so very, very much.-

I've still got lots of other misadventures to share, but rather than one epic, hundred page post that no one will read, I'll leave the rest for another time.

In other news, more art! Click on them! There's commentary, sketches, alternate versions, all that good stuff! Go now!

(If you want to be cool, hip, groovy, and with-it, you should join my mailing list by emailing me from the contact page. If you're already on the mailing list, you've probably already ascended to greater enlightenment. Perhaps you've even transformed into a being of pure internet.)

A Maelstrom of the Usual!

April 2010: ImagineFX, Europe vs. Utah, the "return" to L5R, and Rise of the Eldrazi.

Tradition states that I start each post by begging forgiveness for how long it's been since my last one, followed by a flimsy excuse as to why. And this edition shall be no different. Declare me a slave to formula if you must.

Sorry it's been so long. Blame the aliens who took and dissected my brain. I'm certain they did not put it back exactly as they found it.

Much has happened since our last torrid affair, my beloved minions. Much that has conspired to consume every tiniest morsel of my time, and coming back for helping after gluttonous helping.

But -mostly- delightful things, I assure you. Some things shared, some things yet to be shared. Many of you I've had the opportunity to meet in person, and I have to say that every horrible thing your friends have said about you was greatly exaggerated. I didn't think you smelled like Fritos and farts at all.

First, I have been honored with inclusion in Spectrum 17, the universe's premier gallery book, to come out later this year. For more immediate gratification, I'm super doubley honored to have a feature in this month's ImagineFX! Read it. Read it and weep tears of joy!

Chicago Worldwake Prerelease:

Though I am not super new to Magic: the Gathering, I'm new to the players. Special thanks to Alan Hochman and Pasttimes Games for being fantastic hosts. This was the first official Magic event I've made it out to. A learning experience, to be sure. I had a great time, and did quite a few playmat sketches and card alters. But none of it would prepare me for...

Madrid Magic Grand Prix:

I arrived a day early, and met up with the organizers (who did an amazing job, btw,) at a lovely local restaurant called Sagardi. I've been to Madrid twice now, and I'm convinced it must be where good tongues go when they die. Both times, I've had some of the best food of my life. If any of you locals can tell me how Madridzianitelings cook steak, for the love of Xenu's illegitimate twins, share this recipe with me! So far as I can tell, they get a slab of iron red hot, then slap the steak on it for no more than a nano-second for each side. Because the result is a crisp outer layer, with an almost raw interior. Like having crème brulée made of cow. And I must have more.

After a jet-lag, meat, and melatonin induced mini-coma, I made a trek out to the Prado Museum. One of the things I dig about European cities, is that you can walk anywhere, and it's already like a museum. Everywhere naked statues, classic architecture, stylish people. In the desolate wasteland I call home, you only walk somewhere if you want: a) Cheap trouser hemming via the friendly neighborhood dogs. b) To smuggle fertilizer to your garden courtesy of the ridiculously abundant number of horses, and their more ridiculously thoughtless owners. c) To end it all and be run down by one of the many prepubescent children obliviously crisscrossing public roads on high-powered four wheelers. d) because there are too many unattended children playing in the street to get your car out of the driveway.

Seriously, my neighborhood is like some sort of temporal displacement to 1835. Where the middle of the road is the safest place for children, the best grazing for horses, and the cleanest place to poop. But I digress.

What I was getting at is: Europe is awesome. If the end of my street had a statue of Zeus, it would be a matter of hours before the locals put pants and shirt on him, unceremoniously chainsaw-carved the Ten Commandments into his chest, some kid would have broken off and swallowed his garland, there would be tire tracks all over it, and a veritable rainbow of animal droppings would color the marble.

I'm digressing again.

I'm just more of a city boy, I guess. And European cities rock my pants right off. The Prado was incredible. And massive. Bigger than my big-big thirst for things caffeinated and sugary. I spent about nine hours in there, and I'm pretty sure I still missed half of it. For those of you not lucky enough to have folks buy you a plane ticket just to show up at their event, here's a page full of Prado stuffs:

The Prado Museum

The event itself was unprecedented. 2,227 registered players, plus girlfriends, boyfriends, wanderers, and at least a handful of werewolf tourists. And just two artists to fill the ravenous requests of players who outnumber us in a way that reminds one of King Leonidas and the 300. (Though the players were much, much nicer than Xerxes and company.) Just me and Mark Poole. Who, by the way, is a fantastic chap. I was not prepared for filling the requests of that many players. And, though many a sharpie was worn to a nub, I can't help but feel I left far too many players wanting. For this, my Beloved Madridzian Minions, I apologize. I have learned. At least a little.

One of the reasons for my infrequent posts, is that when I have a moment to sit and compose an update, (usually because I've accidentally set another Wacom pen aflame,) I feel I have to write about all my misadventures all the way back to the last post. Which can be a daunting task. Particularly when I have the memory of a brain-damaged alcoholic hamster.

So this time, I'll cut things... I can't really say short at this point, can I? But I'll stop for now, leaving you with some new artwork, and some teasers of stories to come. In the next installment, I'll sing ballads of Lafayette, Las Vegas, and Houston. And I'll give you some sneak peek artwork from a potential television series I've done some concepts for. So stay tuned. (Is there a new, more modern equivalent of that phrase?)

Oh, upcoming events at the moment: Just the Salt Lake City Kotei: June 26th. And Gen Con. There are a few more up in the air, though. I'll be at San Diego Comic Con, but I don't think I'm going to get a spot on the floor. When I sent in my paperwork, they told me there was a four-year wait. So unless some other artist wants to share or sell their space, I'll be attending as a regular jerk.

On to artwork!

First, I will lay to rest the rumors that I lost a licorice whip duel to the death with AEG's resident samurai, and thus am not alive enough to contribute artwork to Legend of the Five Rings. (As always, sketches, commentary, merch, and whatnot in the gallery page. Just click. You know you want to. Everyone is doing it.)

And, I am giddy as a schoolgirl with a liquor lollypop at the tidal wave of requests I've had from Magic players to post the new Friday Night Magic Bloodbraid Elf, and the Rise of the Eldrazi artwork. So here you are, my sorcerous darlings.

If you're not already part of my mailing list, shame on you. Email me and become an official Beloved Minion. (Beloved Minions get two-for-one drinks at select bars in the afterlife.)

Careening into 2010 with foolhardy abandon!

Welcome to a new decade, my Beloved Minions. May 2010 be so overflowing with unrelenting awesomeness for all of you that we unanimously decide it needs a sequel. "2010 II: Even Hunky-Dorier."

Before you proceed with this new year, you may need a new calendar. This one's for charity and full of keen paintings: http://roku-mart.com/store/product/2010-charity-calendar

Because my 2009 has been cram-packed with the good, the bad, and the ugly, my website updates have been particularly sparse. I'll stick to the good for this recap of the last couple of months.

First - FULL ON HOT VIDEO LESSON ACTION!

That's right. I've heard your digital wailing. Felt your internet hands groping in the darkness. And I have responded with a smattering of my brain-meats as an appetizer to arouse your thirst to become art super- ninjas. In this first sermon to the newborn Cult of Argyle, I reveal the secret combinations and Photoshop witchcraft that have birthed many a digital babe-warrior. Normally, you'd expect to pay your immortal soul, and most likely what is left of your virtue and hope, to attain this forbidden knowledge. But act now, and it is yours for the low-low price of spending one-half of an hour of the time you'd otherwise use surfing Youtube for hilarious kitten antics. Do it. Watch it. Become one of us. Cleave to the sticky embrace the Cult of Argyle.

(250mb, 30min. Too long for Youtube. Let's see how long it takes before my website host boots me...)

Next - IRL people foolishly submit themselves to the Brush of the Me.

Don't ask me how it happened. I can't really remember throught the haze of my yellow #5 abuse. But at some point, I was presented with delightful young women offering up their bodies. Like the fool I so clearly am, I just doodled on them.

This was my first foray into the medium of body painting. It was a three-hour exhibition, unfortunately held at an intolerably dark and loud nightclub. These shots were taken with two giant flash bulbs, and show far, far more than I could see whilst stumbling through this otherwise delightful medium. You can kind of see in the backgrounds how little light there actually was. This is my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.

Moving Along - More things that are remarkably non-digital.

I made a gingerbread house. I feel so domestic. However, because of the stomach-squeezingly sickly- sweet wholesomeness of our local gingerbread show, I have resolved for next year to submit a gingerbread housewife instead. With a pie-crust apron, chocolate high-heels, frosting knickers, Jolly Rancher lip glaze, and very little else. It will undoubtedly be my most shallow, sexist work to date. Which will bring the median morality of the show crashing down to the level of a Bible and Prayer Symposium for Handicapped Children. So watch for that around Christmas next year. You may want to set up a news alert for "Perverted, self-proclaimed 'artist' terrorises gingerbread show with half-baked, half-naked confection of sin. Police taze both him and the gingerbread harlot.

(Either that, or I could make a gingerbread Godzilla to crush the competition. But I think I like precipitating the above scandal better.)

Finally - Artwork!

No update would be complete without a haphazard discharge of newish artwork. So for this installment, I bring you the following. Hit the individual pages for commentary, sketches, wallpapers, WIP, time-lapses, alternate versions, and whatnot.

Also: For folks in the Chicago area, I'll be at the Worldwake prerelease, peddling my filthy wares and mercilessly scribbling signatures and such.

Also also: If you're not already on my mailing list, you should be. Go to my website, click on the contact page link right now and email me. It is your destiny.