The view on Garfield Street, Winnipeg (Nov. 15, 2005). Last week's snowstorm afforded me my first opportunity ever to 1) borrow a neighbour's shovel, and 2) build a snowman in my front yard – the latter being somewhat more of a personal highlight than the former. Our snowman's lifespan left a little to be desired: built at noon, wilting by three and dead on the ground by the time we came back from Kerry's parents place after dinner. He was a bizarre crossbreed, created from Kerry's desire to go all-natural – using dead foliage from our flowerbeds – and me wanting to use found basement objects, which consisted of a leftover scrap of dryer ventilation duct. Here's a pic of Kerry and the big snowy papi we built on Sunday. We never even got the chance to name it. 
I have to get my butt in gear. Kerry and I are making a top secret Christmas present for a certain special someone, but it involves a bunch of work on my part – of which I've done nada thus far. But today, it begins.And to keep my blog audience – now numbering in the millions – occupied while I toil away on Project X, I'm posting this nine-year-old piece of rerun action from my college days. I used to draw for The Projector, Red River College's student newspaper, over parts of three years (ten bucks a strip!) – and this submission came directly on the heels of getting dumped by my then-girlfriend. So draw what you know, right? Anyway, she thought it was in poor taste. I think it was the most cathartic ten dollars I ever earned.This cartoon also doubles as my Illustration Friday contribution. The site's theme this week is the word free – and this piece is appropriate enough, as it plays decoy while my free time is filled with work on Project X. Click here for a closer look.Side note: My strip, The Crobolog, was named after a failed attempt at a Scrabble word by a friend during a mid-1990s weekend cottage bender.Side side note: I will post Project X following Christmas. Keep pants on.
A rundown on how this Illustration Friday submission came to be:Friday was a holiday here in Manitoba. Remembrance Day. So while at Vimy Ridge Park, keeping warm, waiting for the local Remembrance Day ceremony to begin, I asked Kerry what I might do to illustrate strength. Surely, given the surroundings and circumstances, I could come up with something inspiring, something of a tribute...So how about a play on the famous sculpture of Atlas, with the weight of the world on his shoulders? And instead of Atlas, it’s a squirrel carrying a giant nut?And that's my thought process. As Forrest Gump would put it: "That's all I got to say about that".I penciled it out in my sketchbook Friday afternoon. I'm not a very fluid cartoonist or caricature artist, so stuff like this gets drawn out quite carefully. Plenty of eraser action as I get body parts down just so. I pose, pretending to be the squirrel, to see how the hands and fingers should be positioned. Never drawn an acorn before, so I do an image search on Google. The acorn isn't working. I'm frustrated that I can't seem to draw an acorn. I begin to go over the squirrel's pencil-work in pen, doing my thicks and thins. There's mistakes that will have to be erased in Photoshop, so I mark them. After I finish the squirrel, I take a thin pen and sketch over the linework so it doesn't look totally rigid; it is a cartoon after all. I ink the basic outline of the acorn, but the perspective on the 'stem' is all screwed up. I draw a new stem on a separate piece of paper, scan it and add it to the finished linework digitally. I thought I might then post the line-art as is, a nice black-and-white piece of work. But I'm a sucker for the polish that digital colour provides, so...voila. I call it Squirrel Carrying Giant Nut. Click here for a closer look. Hope you enjoy it. Have a great week, all.
Regardless of the reason why you've come here – be it from Illustration Friday, random exploring or to cop my image of Rocket Robin Hood – I urge you to make your next mouse click here, to my online friend Jeff Andrews' blog concoction, Design Inspiration. This is a simple site built to give designers, illustrators, photographers – heck, anyone with a creative bone in their body – an opportunity to introduce themselves to the planet, and in particular, other creative types. The site's great angle lies in its indiscrimination; it's an equally high platform for both the established design rock star and the startup looking to make a name. I did it. See for yourself.
I've been tinkering with a number of photos I took or had developed recently. I got a new Canon EOS Digital Rebel XT for my birthday, which I'm very excited about. If anything – and anyone with a digital camera will tell you this – it gives me the opportunity to now make hundreds upon hundreds of mistakes without the guilt of wasting film. And by default, hopefully learn. 
Above: One of the first things I did with it was take it to work to see the ground squirrels, who are more than tame and tolerant enough of people to sit dumb and still while they get their picture taken. This fat fella (left) was one of the last remaining above-ground critters around when I walked past their colony a few weeks ago. This other timid creature (right) was caught in a self-portrait, reflected off the front of his G4. 
Playing with the camera's 'time-value' mode, I took a series of these ghostly shots using the timer function. These were 25-second exposures. That's me and me, and me, contemplating putting new sheets on the bed. 
Kerry reading her book on the couch we bought a couple of weeks ago. It's called Wendy. It’s red and cushy. Really ties the room together. 
These two photos of thick morning fog were taken at work almost a month ago with the department's Nikon D70. This happens a few times each fall at the marsh, and it's absolutely magical when it happens. The geese didn't even know I was there. 
I finally sifted through the roll of black-and-white film I took on our holiday in the Rockies. I popped it in the camera when the weather turned lousy to take some mood shots, but most of them didn't turn out that well. This dead tree (right) on Sun Point in Montana's Glacier National Park was a find. Kerry posed for me between two giant cedars (left) on a trail near Fernie, B.C.
So, since perhaps the dawn of time no one has ever fingered me as Mr. Craftsmanship. Got a project that involves sculpting, mounting, cutting or outright delicacy? Keep it away from Jeope. I could design or illustrate decent work in college, but unfortunately part marks were always reserved for how well the piece was mounted. Blast. But despite all my craftsmanship foibles, this past weekend I sucked it up and carved me a pumpkin. And to the best of my abilities, I made this fine specimen (above), intended to be Mike Wazowski from Monsters, Inc. I hadn't made a jack-o-lantern in about 15 years, so carving memories from pumpkins past all came racing back, ranging from "phew, this thing reeks" and "eww, this feels disgusting" to "I absolutely love stabbing things". Doling out candy to kids on Halloween for the first time was a sweet experience. And when one asked me if my pumpkin was "that guy from Monsters, Inc.", it felt doubly good. An extra Kit-Kat for that sucka!
These two disembodied, broken heads equally represent Illustration Friday's theme-o-the-week – broken – and a so-simple-it's-brilliant project by Oregon creative everything Von Glitschka: the Doodle Archive. Mr. Glitschka's always-thinking head is in the process of creating a website that will archive doodles submitted by folks from all ages, skills and walks of life. 
For the record, my doodle (above) was inspired by one of my department's multi-hour, mind-numbing and rarely relevant meetings which, until the day I started Jeopopolis, was my sole outlet for anything remotely off-the-cusp creative. These sessions are frequently dominated by talking heads, such as these two blokes. So in honour of the art of doodling, I managed to pry the black Pigma Micron 01 pen from my cold, undead hand in exchange for a more doodle-friendly Bic ballpoint (shudder!). And it took all of five minutes to do. Then to incorporate the doodle with the broken theme, I crafted this Photoshop montage, which takes the concept of these talking-head types and merges it with an indisputable fact of life for the vast majority of graphic designers: these people are a major obstacle between cool, quality work and the means to have it shown to the world. They represent the finicky client, the micromanager, the board of directors, the boss's wife. Here they're literally chewing it up, leaving in their wake a big ol' void of bluh. Click here for a slightly larger view of the montage. Side note: If you're wondering how to get yourself some of this sweet Doodle Archive action, head over to its under-construction homepage and follow the instructions to request a card like the one in the photo above. And if it's inspiration you seek, check out Mr. Glitschka himself and get lost in his one, two, three amazing websites.
To find the source of inspiration for subject matter in illustrating the word remote, I decided to travel deep into childhood to find the moment when I first discovered the meaning of the word. And truth be told, more than likely it was taught to me via the timeless bastion of learning that was, and is, Sesame Street. And in particular, a short sketch in which Grover displays the difference between 'near' and 'far'. So in honour of the moment, I've created this here quick and dirty homage to the furry monster who indirectly helped show me – and countless others – the definition of 'remote'. Bless that hairy blue thing.
While I devote the remainder of my week's spare time to devising a cover concept for the fall HOWieZine (theme: lost and/or found), I submit this tinkered version of an old FreeHand jobbie for Illustration Friday (theme: cold). I originally doodled and vectorized this hockey goon a couple of years ago. But with the reinstated National Hockey League back in full tilt, I thought a subtle revamp of this thug was in order. It is the League's intent that talentless ape-men like this fellow will be left out in the cold as it ushers in a new-look, skill-heavy PR effort. So to that effect, this hombre is quite cold, perhaps soon to become as much history as the helmetless player and the intermission smoke break. The background in this piece is constructed from a few different sources; a strip of birch bark, a photo of an old wooden ammunition crate from Kerry's parents' cottage, plus some added Photoshop brush pizzazz and some blue-heavy hue and saturation shifts. One can get a closer look if one clicks here.
Last week Kerry and I went to Pantages Playhouse to check out a show by The Blind Boys Of Alabama, a longstanding – and kickass – gospel group we've seen a few times in Winnipeg over the years. Their shows are always energetic and relentless, and when I hear them I can't help but feel good – and I'm a solid-gold atheist. But as Bart said when he heard a gospel choir in a recent Simpsons: "Black God rules!"This week we went back to Pantages for a show by Leslie Feist, recent Juno Award (the Canuck Grammy) winner for best new artist. She's a tiny ball of energy with a voice that can at times equally channel Etta James and Björk. One moment she's a cooing little pixie, the next she's a fireball wailing on a guitar, wringing out her punk roots for all to see and hear. And as good as that sounds, she was nearly trumped by her buddy and warm-up act, Jason Collett – with fearless stage presence, a Jagger-esque strut and a firing-on-all-cylinders band. Check them both out.At right is the invite for our housewarming next Friday. Kerry thought up the cool concept, not remotely based on the fact it's October and we're three months late. I scanned one of her old blue mittens and added the stripes and rooftop effect in Photoshop. Click here for a closer look. 'Natch, you're all invited.Side note: I've officially joined the ranks of the thirtysomethings. And while that’s not really a big deal in my books, I'd be lying if I said I haven't been thinking about it a bit. Especially when folks discover a new reason to poke fun ("If you were in the NHL, you'd be in the twilight of your career" – poetic). Whatever. Nuts to them, and nuts to you if you're one of 'em. And I did get to cross off one thing on my New Year's resolution list: turn 30.Side side note: Speaking of the NHL, I'm kinda glad it's back. My heart didn't skip any beats last winter – and not that I have allegiances to certain teams anymore, but I do fancy the other great Canadian tradition: the hockey pool. Even though I regularly come out with some cash at the end, and it's early – way early – but my pool team is clearly a bunch of bums.
