Actually, I have no idea what’s going on here… is that a sun? An explosion? Hmm… sounds like this calls for an Artist’s Statement.
As the Philosopher once said, “Only in darkness does light shine forth bright enough to illuminate the mind’s subconscious.”
In this image, I wanted to show that even something as simple as an explosion could reflect upon the passing ship-like knowledge of the human psyche, bringing to light all those dents and scratches that make up the futile underpinnings of mankind’s pettiness. In such light, how can one do anything but throw off the shackles of greed, jealousy, and hatred, and trade them in for a big heaping plate of Gagh?
This is based on Jay’s submission to my Chino is a Magical Place story synopsis request. (Reprinted below for your convenience.)
The end. That’s what they said, anyway. They were coming for us. Three days. They’d been everywhere else. New York. Boston. Miami. Cleveland. Cleveland? I had hoped they’d skip our sour-smelling stretch of sun-soaked pasture-land, but after I saw what they did to Cleveland, any hope of our little town surviving flew right out the door and into a cow pie.
Wizards. Sorcerers. Witches. Alchemists. All closing in on Chino, CA. I’ve got a shotgun and a bad attitude. Put a little magic in Chino and I’ll put a little lead in your robe, Gandalf.
So, bring it on. Bring the magic and the mayhem. I’ll be waiting with two smoking barrels, a bottle of Jack D., and a spittoon. You want some, Harry Potter? Come get some.
This is probably an illustration for the end of that wonderful children’s story, Blim, the Happy Bear, right after the squirrel tells him his fur looks silly:
For the first time in his life, Blim had a strange feeling in his belly. It was like having a katydid stuck in his ear, but that’s obviously not what it was. Because the feeling was in his belly.
“Why did Squiggle have to say those mean things about my fur?” he said to himself. “Maybe this is how he feels when I make fun of his tail every day.” Blim trudged a few forlorn paces further into the clearing. “It’s not very nice to make others unhappy.” He paused, one foot resting between two newly sprouted mushrooms, and his eyes lit up. “Squiggle is not very nice. I should eat him.”
Slowly a smile crept back onto the big bear’s face. He turned around and began nosing his way back through the thick grass. Being sad was no fun. It was better to be happy.
(click for large version)
Then Edna, eyes gleaming as the twin lamp-stones of the great East Tower, drew Sleetbane from its cradle and fell upon the gathered host of undead with violent indignation. It is said that with each horrible grey head or arm severed, Dalsfveg’s hold upon his army faltered, until the remaining few made a vain retreat in the direction of the river bed.
Overcome with rage, Dalsfveg himself slew those that escaped the whirling circle of Sleetbane’s destruction, until he found himself alone upon the muddy field now choked with the remnants of his army. Edna’s scornful laugh found him then, clawing its way though his visions of conquest, rending them beyond repair. And with a nondescript flourish of her bloodied umbrella, Edna bade the Necromancer farewell, remarking on the unfortunate predisposition of his minions to end up in pieces, and voicing the hope that his next deadly army would prove of less shoddy workmanship.
–Excerpt from Tales of Edna Weatherspindle
So here’s this week’s Barefoot Kraken, regarding that all-important team-spirit building device, the mascot.
Now I realize that for some of you, this whole mascot fad may be a bit confusing, so I’ve done some research and developed a guide for anyone wanting to get in on it, as the kids say.
Uncle Nathan’s Guide to Mascots and the Creation Thereof
Step one: Pick an animal. For the least confusion, this should be either a cougar, eagle, or tiger. That way if you move from one school to another, there will be an 82% chance that you won’t have to buy new merchandise.
Step two: Draw your animal snarling in rage with claws extended, because nothing says team spirit like “I’m going to rip out your jugular and strangle you with it.”
Step three: If your animal lacks the appropriate features to instill a decent amount of fear while growling, you may opt for giving it huge biceps instead. Because it obviously works out. Even though it’s just a bird.
Step four: Take your muscle-bound, fang-baring mascot and create a costume that might possibly be the same animal, but could pass for a cuddly polar bear if need be. Then tell someone to put it on and dance around the court like a psychotic easter bunny. Because that’ll show the other team you mean business.
Rachel’s entry ›
As the Philosopher once said:
“Even the panda, being but a beast of small stature when lying in the mud, has every recourse to take up arms against those oppressive forces of human nature—greed, jealousy, and verisimilitude—and strike a blow for the preponderance of earthly denizens foraging out their days in the wilderness of lonely hope.”
Chief among the pastimes of that community was the surreptitious acquisition of a father’s hot air balloon, whether by a secret night outing or a cleverly placed diversion of viking look-alikes in a neighbor’s ferret pen.
The balloons allowed a level of freedom hitherto unknown to these country children, who might otherwise have never ventured beyond the borders of their respective family estates. As it was, however, the surrounding settlements became quite accustomed to the periodic discovery of distraught livestock perched atop trees, barns, and commonly Mrs. Henett’s outhouse.
Then Edna, having brought most of the audience’s wandering minds back to complete alertness with an exclamation of, “And now for something completely different,” reached behind the podium, and with a tug and grunt of exertion produced something quite different indeed.
At this point, almost all of the select few that had not been alerted by her previous announcement were forced into weary coherence, leaving only the man in the plaid overalls completely immune to the situation. Though as it turned out, he had been dead since half-past four.
Pa: Here you go, Jimmy. I’ve got a present for you.
Jimmy: But, Pa, I feel a healthy indifference toward radishes!
Pa: I know, son. ::Pats Jimmy on the back::
Jimmy: But Pa! Are we mutants?
Pa: From the look of our hands, old chap, I’d have to say yes. Now shut up.