Author Archives: littledragonblue

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About littledragonblue

Dreamer, Writer, Artist, Lover

More Magical Paintings from the Past

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The mythopoetic tree serpent ascends. 

Before all the webcomics, and the Trickster’s Hat, the first couple months of this blog were just scans of every piece of art I’d made prior to starting the blog. Not everything, of course, but everything I still had that I still liked, going back to when I was 11 years old. But still not everything, because I keep remembering, for example, this photograph of a painting I did when I lived in Israel, in the fall of 1997.

The original’s probably long gone. When I left the kibbutz, I gave it to the volunteer coordinator because he had admired it once, and I was going to bum around Europe and didn’t want to carry it, but about 6 hours after I gave it to him, this guy I knew told me about a terribly racist thing the volunteer coordinator had done and I wished I hadn’t. He probably didn’t want it anyway. For my purposes, the photo is probably sufficient.

butterfly screen

The Fabulous Butterfly Screen

This butterfly screen is definitely the biggest thing I ever painted, and the most complex. Actually, paint costing what it does, I’ve done very little painting in my life, and this is the only piece that took me more than an hour or two to finish. I think it took close to a month, actually, but it was a labor of love, a gift for an old friend. This is Christmas 2000, I think. Maybe 1999. Wonder if this screen still exists.

It’s hard to imagine painting this by hand. How much more righteous would it have been if it were done in Photoshop?

No one ever goes back to the beginning of this blog but it’s still nice to have everything uploaded to one place. Although if I could go back and do it again, I would have made this blog a Tumblr.

 

Old, Rolled Mandala

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Ever have one of those incarnations when you feel like you’re just eating your own tail?

Whilst searching for some other document (never found; can’t even remember what it was now), came across this blast from the past: one my first mandalas. Not sure about the date, but probably from sometime in the mid-’90s, although it could be earlier. Sketching it out was meticulous work; I literally used a compass and a protractor to get all the curves and angles. The center part shows the phases of the moon, and the cardinal points are trees during the 4 seasons.

After putting so much effort into making the sketch perfect, I then became terrified to ruin it by trying to color it, so it just hung out in a tube for 15 or 20 years. No idea how it got stained…the stains are not as bad as they look, but rather amplified due to the Photoshop correction I had to do to the original image just to make the pencil lines clearly visible.

The whole this is pretty banged up, and, of course, held together with scotch tape, but none of that matters anymore, because now I do have Photoshop. I could draw a clean and more perfect copy in a relatively short period of time, and I could color it in a million different ways without ruining the original. Would make a wicked cool T-shirt.

Not that I don’t have 50 other projects.

The Hermit: First Glance

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Well, here goes something.

There will be a bigger deal made about this in the next week or so, but: my adult-fairy-tale-with-elements-of-horror-and-romance novel will be coming out through Brother Wolf Press (e-pub available in the Kindle store), exact date TBA, and here’s the cover!

Unlike some of my art projects, I was able to create to something that almost exactly matched what my brain visualized. Actually, in this case, the cover is better than I imagined it, because I hadn’t figure out how wonderful the sky would be. But it is wonderful.

I wanted it, first of all, to look like a tarot card from the Rider-Waite deck, at which task it seems to succeed admirably. The coyote is crazy adorable; her design is based on the wolf from The Moon card. The Hermit is, of course The Hermit, but her face is more the Queen of Cups, except less constipated looking, and she is disarmingly unassuming. The landscape also takes cues from other cards, although the sky is kind of improvised. Even the font turned out spot-on.  And then there’s the gallon jug full of magical water. Intrigued at all? I even had a lot of fun with the little sigil/signature in the bottom right, which, at first glance, looks a fair amount like the artist’s mark on the Rider-Waite deck, but is actually comprised of my initials.

My instinct is to always keep tinkering with it, but of course the Rider-Waite deck is hand drawn and imperfect, and anyway, my whole thing now is letting it be imperfect. Perfectly imperfect.

Love it.

 

Popcorn!

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I’m all about needless complication, especially when it comes to my snack food.

This is the real way to make popcorn in my book. You take a pot with a lid, add a generous dollop of oil, drop in one kernel, close the lid, and turn the burner onto high. Then you wait. When the first kernel pops, you open the lid, dump in the rest of the popcorn, close the lid, and shake the pot vigorously until it all pops. You can’t let it sit on the heat once the popping stops or it will burn, but 100% of the time, some kernels don’t pop until you open the lid.

That’s my story for today, as the Rabbit says.

The Life Cycle

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In the next chapter, we will discuss the organism’s mating strategies, which vary depending upon which university it attends and whether or not it decides to rush.

For a very long time, I’ve suspected that butterflies have the right idea. Their larva are grubby but not without their charm, often visually pleasing, even if they are prickly and disgusting to touch. Their final form is, of course, stunning. And while they’re stuck in that transitional phase, which is almost certainly disgusting beyond measure, they get to do it in peace and quiet. They go into a room as a baby and come out as a lovely adult.

Humans, on the other hand, suffer the animal kingdom’s most distressing adolescence. Everyone can see them struggling along awkwardly, not babies, but not grown up, either. Awash with terrifying chemicals, all their body parts are growing at different rates, bizarre and unpleasant changes are taking place inside and out, and they’re constantly being forced to compare their development to those around them.

I posit that the human way to go through adolescence would be with an option, around the 11th birthday, to lock oneself away from the world and stay in hiding until age 15 or so, at which point you emerge, gorgeous and confident and ready to take the driver’s exam and make out with other recently reintroduced teenagers. How much less psychological distress would we have to overcome if we could spin cocoons?

There are 2 adolescent humans in this house, although we count ourselves pretty lucky that they have not yet shown any signs of hormone poisoning. There’s no arguing or sullen silence or anything like that. Just a fairly constant direct connection to screens. But, MAN, when I was 12, I would have given almost anything for the privilege of going into my room and not coming out until at least my junior year of high school.

Dr. Morimoto Has to Try

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I’m just going to leave this prophylactic inside the screen door in case you decide to do the right thing for humanity.

I try not to get too political only because I’m non-confrontational, and when you publish anything vaguely political in a public forum, people see that as an invitation to publicly attack you. But when a comic comes to me, I draw it. For later in the week I have some really great stuff about puberty and also one about popcorn, but today it’s the Republican nominee.

Let me say that I don’t believe he is the antichrist or the next Hitler. I do believe he is a racist rabble rouser who couldn’t define the word diplomacy if his life depended on it and who certainly cannot be trusted with the military capabilities of the United States, and that it would be better for political discourse and the fate of mankind if he had never been born.

Originally, I envisioned Fred as more receptive to Dr. Morimoto’s message, but I do research this stuff (note my sketchy interpretation of a Tudor revival home) and I guess the Donald learned hatred at home. Fred Trump was sued for refusing to rent his low-income housing to black people, a policy that continued years after the courts ordered him to cut that out. According to the Justice Department, “racially discriminatory conduct by Trump agents has occurred with such frequency that it has created a substantial impediment to the full enjoyment of equal opportunity.”

In this comic, Fred uses the phrase “colored folks,” which was a polite term at the time, but I’m guessing in reality he would have used the word that I only say out loud if I’m discussing Huck Finn and hip hop lyrics, or possibly the German equivalent (his parents were German immigrants), which I’m guessing is quite similar to the Yiddish one my grandmother used.

Speaking of immigrants, Fred’s wife, Mary Anne, was one of those destitute human beings who came to America to escape poverty and take crappy jobs that natural-born Americans don’t want. She was Scottish, which I tried to impart via dialog. The line “What’s for ye’ll not go by ye,” is a Scottish saying that means, “If it’s meant to happen, it will.” But who knows. Maybe Donald thought his mom was a parasite, too.

It also occurred to me, while writing, that in 1945, a Japanese woman shouting on someone’s lawn would be subject to racist interpretation. Japanese American internment camps weren’t closed until 1946, although the majority of mainland Japanese Americans lived on the west coast in the ’40s. When I first created this character, I just wanted to pick a name that was fun to say and sounded like it could belong to a postmodern superhero/scientists. I didn’t even think about the fact that, traveling through time, she might lose credibility with some targets due to her ethnicity.

Another fun fact I learned in the course of writing this comic: Fred Trump died of Alzheimer’s. So it’s entirely possible that all this unfiltered hatred coming out of Donald Trump’s mouth is early stage senile dementia, in which case, his nomination makes perfect sense, because the Republicans have been looking for the next Ronald Reagan for a long time.

Pretty in Punk Redux Mandala

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Yes, my scanner is fixed; no, I’m not into rescanning stuff right now. 

Last night found me working feverishly until 2 a.m. to finish a project that’s been rolling around my head for years. There’s a possibility that it will actually be needed soon. Anyway, it came out wonderfully, almost exactly what I’d envisioned in my head, which is the best metric of success when you can’t depend on outside approval for validation.

Yesterday I went to a meet-up for the members of the Science Fiction Writers of America who live in Tucson. I am not a member of the SFWA–I think the criteria for membership is something like 3 professional sales or 6 semi-professional sales, and I only have 2 semi-professional sales–but I received an invitation and damnit, I went. The writers were very cool and inclusive; half of them I already knew, included one with whom I had been conversing on Facebook for over 3 years but had never met face to face (although I did once hear her speak at the Tucson Festival of Books). Even though everyone there had achieve a greater level of professional success than I had, they weren’t really any different from me. None of them thought they had really achieved a great level of professional success. All of them spoke wistfully of writers who had done better. Two of them mentioned that their most successful stories were those that happened to be anthologized in books where their bylines shared space with household names like Stephen King and RL Stine.

It felt good to be part of a writing community again.

This mandala is badly reproduced, but I’m already 14 hours late posting this blog, and I have come to loathe scanning things. It’s worse than photocopying (because it takes longer). It’s ideologically similar to another mandala I drew, so I gave it the same name. This one doesn’t exactly look “like a Hot Topic exploding over an Orange Julius stand at the mall.” It looks like the explosion stayed in the Hot Topic.

Kid Logic III or Seriously, When Does School Start?

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In the next panel, the kid puts on winter pajamas, wraps herself in a quilt, and goes to sit in the stuffiest room in the house, and we’re back to the situation in Wednesday’s comic. It’s a vicious cycle. 

Whew! Better late than never. Part III in the continuing saga of children in the summertime. The temperature actually dropped almost 20 degrees since I had the idea for this comic, and it’s only in the 90s, but it’s getting humid. Soon the monsoon rains will come.

I wanted to draw and post this comic last night but it was really kind of a delirious day and I didn’t get to the computer until after 11, at which point I couldn’t focus on drawing, so I put it off and put it off. I wanted to have it up by 2 pm today, at least, but then the Fox wanted to buy us chicken and waffles and then go swimming and hang out and The Man wanted to talk and my parents called, la la la.  I’m supposed to be at the Misseses Kitty’s house in 4 minutes, which obviously isn’t happening either.

There are highs and lows, but ultimately, I have to admit that my life is pretty blessed. In terms of privilege, I’m probably in at least the top 10%. Things are going to be OK.

Kid Logic II, Simple Solutions to Complex Problems

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It’s like walking in a winter wonderland in June. With strawberries and organic greens.

Kid Logic, part 2, the sweatening. Pretty self-explanatory. This would have been the segue if I had done an 8-panel comic. The punchline didn’t come to me until after I had drawn the entire thing. Originally, it was just setting up the next part of the comic and less funny. Personally, I don’t like going into the walk-in fridge at Costco at all, but at least in the winter I’m dressed for it.

Today the heat backed off and it was only 103. They’re predicting the monsoon will start this week, 2 weeks ahead of the historical schedule and probably 3 weeks earlier than it’s been since I’ve lived here. We haven’t even turned on the air conditioner yet; we’re still on evaporative cooling, which you usually can’t use during monsoon conditions. Weird summer.

Kid Logic I, or Same Planet, Different Worlds

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I get chills just thinking about it. But that’s probably just this fan blowing over the sweat.

Originally, this was panel 1 of a much longer comic based entirely on actual things that the Girl did/said this week, but the day got out of hand and it would have been hubris to imagine that I could complete 8-panels in the time allotted, especially since I had already been to the Fox’s writing party and gotten 1500 words out.

The point is, it’s hot. Like, sick hot. Well up over 100 degrees hot. And despite the fact that they have lived here their entire lives, certain children seem constantly surprised by desert summers and repeatedly ill-equipped to deal with them, which is hilarious if you can remove yourself from the situation of being the person in charge of helping those children deal with them.

This hypothetical little person didn’t actually think that Frozen pajamas were cold; I suspect she was wearing them for more idiosyncratic reason, probably connected to a desire to wear all her clothes equally, in their turn, but she was wearing long sleeved flannel pajamas, and she did complain that she had trouble sleeping because she was too hot, and she does habitually wrap herself up in a warm blanket, regardless of the ambient air temperature. She also willfully fails to comprehend the use of evaporative cooling, despite the fact that we’ve explained it to her 100 times. Ergo, she never, ever considers opening her window, even when we tell her to open the window, meaning she is deliberately keeping her room 15 degrees hotter than the rest of the house. No matter how many times I outline the process by which she could end her suffering (wear less clothing, use less bedding, open the freaking window), she continues to act as a fully autonomous human, choosing to create an uncomfortably warm environment, and then complaining about it and ignoring any real solutions.

She did have her own solution, though. She got a fan and pointed it at her bed. So she could blow hot air at her heavy quilt and winter pajamas.