In the beginning of October, I announced an ambitious project I titled 31 October Portraits. The concept was to produce one watercolor study/exercise every day in October featuring a horror icon. Each piece would be an exploration in painting technic and realistic lighting. These exercises are important to me because I make a living as a cartoonist drawing and painting what is in my head. It is beneficial and necessary for my growth as an artist to put the cartoons aside and focus on realism. I had the month of October completely open and thought this goal was plausible, even with a 3-month-old baby. But as I was exploring reality in my art, reality smacked me in the face. October not only is the month of Halloween, but also the birthdays of my wife and myself. Then, my wife took on a design job visualizing a compelling retail space which involved me making this vision a reality, helping with construction, renovation, painting and set dressing. Halfway through the month I fell behind on my portraits and even worked myself to the point of illness that befell on my the morning of Halloween.
I had planned on releasing all 31 portraits for sale on November 1st. But the deadline arrived and I only had fifteen pieces done. It was a good attempt, but when it comes down to it, our bodies are only machines, not avatars, and inevitably we do break down. I had so much fun producing these studies that I’m going to carry on and try to finish the 31 portraits by the end of November. I will be releasing these paintings for sale weekly, on every Friday starting next week. In the meantime, the first fifteen are currently available for sale on my webstore until the end of November.
indicated that another world existed beyond. Within the room, earthy turquoise walls and incense calmed the soul, preparing the mind for a heightened sense of consciousness. The overgrowth of ferns, moss and other fauna let you forget the urban world you came from and enticed a carefree existence within this enchanted realm. It was a spiritual domain, cloaked in sacred tapestries and laced linens, dimly lit by candles and mythical orbs.
Signs of life and death abound all around, deep in the shadows, around corners and overhead. A mounted “wolf” guarded the entrance to the gallery. A royal frog anxiously waited upon his perch to steal kisses from beautiful maidens. The earthly remains of roebuck and faun lay scattered among the mulch floor and strewn over gypsy tables. The observant eye may have even caught a glimpse of an abnormally long lock of flaxen hair weaving throughout thickets of branches. The ancient melodies of folk songs representing Poland, Ukraine, Bulgaria, Romania, and other European countries, danced through the humid air in a composition of fiddle, dulcimer, nyckelharpa, flute, accordion, and violin. Two spirited drinks were concocted and offered. The first, a favorite of mine called Faithful John, was a smoked whiskey enriched with Eastern spices, aromatic herbs, and a hint of anise. Smoldering rosemary unleashed a wormwood enchantment. The second, called Seven Ravens, was a sweet black berry infused Grauburgunder, whose amethyst transformed before your eyes. It was crisp, decadent, and bewitching. A gallery of baroque and romantic paintings were displayed in the room, reminding the contemporary multitude, that we were once a theistic species who feared God, conflicted with the devil, and believed in magick.
changed and thus prepared to exhibit the artwork from Gris Grimly’s Tales From The Brothers Grimm. Or, at least that was my intention as I felt it was important that the viewer share the same consciousness I had when I approached the cautionary tales for illustration. I was in the gallery through the duration of the event, mostly sitting at a Victorian table that was overtaken by moss, sipping whiskey and signing the new book for attendees. Every book purchased that night received a sketch of the Frog King. By the end of the night, I was drawing Frog Kings in my sleep.
