Il ragazzo della via Gluck

I grew up in a small town, maybe 5,000 people, and in a small neighborhood, maybe 10 houses. Across the street from our house was a huge field; buried within the field were maybe 3 apple trees and a huge rock with raspberry bushes around it. In summertime, we'd sleep in the field overnight and watch the shoting stars. Beyond the field was a small pond which I learned to skate on in the winter.

A few weeks ago, I visited the neighborhood where I lived as a little boy. I was in the mood to see the field and surrounds which I hadn't seen in maybe 20 years or more. I was really shocked when I went there. Of course, the scale of the houses and yards felt very different, since my memories are from me as a very small child. But the trees, which were only less than 10 years old when I left that neighborhood were now immense and overshadowed the tiny houses as the encroached from the edges of the woods.

There were only a few additional houses, and the road work had not been extended much. However, someone apparently stopped haying the field many years ago, because the field was completely gone...completely overtaken by the forest. I doubt I could have found the pond, and certainly the rock would no longer be sourrounded by raspberries. Immediately jumping to mind was the song "Tar and Cement." Even though it wasn't construction taking over my childhood memories, the excursion was a sharp notification that nothing is as it was.

Back to the song, digging around a bit, I learned it was a folk-y pop hit in Italian first "Il ragazzo della via Gluck" before Françoise Hardy made a hit of it in French "La Maison Ou J'ai Grandi" and then Verdelle Smith in English. All versions hit on the same thing... where did it all go?

Anyway, this sketch is 5 year old me with present day me in the field circa 1975.

Chocolate and peanut butter

I've been playing around with Painter! Since using my Wacom tablet, brush strokes, and coloring in general are not my strong suits, I figure better to start practicing on bold, simple drawings. Here, I've used the "chalk" tool for a very grainy effect, and layering colors from the bottom up. Definitely getting easier the more I use it, and looking a bit better too (see entry "Gym class fairy").

I drew this after Adam and I got together for one of our Sunday evening "cartoon night" events. I had a little leftover frosting from making cupcakes, so we were adding it to our animal crackers with peanut butter treat. It was REALLY yummy, but also felt really trashy. I couldn't stop laughing sheepishly.

I don't laugh extendedly often, but whenever I am stuck on something like this, or the clown tatoo comic from the Sunday paper, Adam will also laugh extendedly, more at me than what I am laughing at.

Oh, Jürgen

My latest "thing" is men in their mid-30s circa 1977. Think Gary Sandy on WKRP in Cincinnati with tight jeans, and tight western shirt open nearly halfway down to his navel and nice hair. Or, if you prefer your Euro-men, Jürgen Drews from the horrific German pop group the Les Humphries Singers. Jürgen botched his solo during the 1976 Eurovison Song Contest during the silly song "Sing Sang Song" but nails it time and again for "Ein Bett im Kornfeld," his big solo hit. For a brief moment, I was involved in a drawing collective; there would be a new assignment every 2 weeks. For the assignment "something about music" I started this illustration of the Les Humphries Singers from their Eurosvision appearance. Love Jürgen in his tight bells, jacket, vest-with-no-shirt underneath, medallion, and silk scarf. If I had been a young man in the 70s, this is definitely how I'd dress.

R.I.P. Majel Barrett

Ok, I know I am 6 months late to post this, but here is my tribute to Majel Barrett. Barrett passed away late December and was the widow of Gene Roddenberry, creator of Star Trek. Barrett herself appeared in each of the series and the movies in some form or another. I think it's most interesting that in the pilot of the original series, Roddenberry had intended for Barrett to play the first officer, known as "Number One," though her character was scrapped for the actual series. Fairly progressive for the mid-60s to have a female second in command. So, here's my take on "Number One" complete in velour t-neck and pants.

In other Trek news, I have been watching Voyager episodes posted to the Web, while I am drawing up a storm. That's the only series that I really liked. It's nice to have on as background noise and then I can look up at the best parts.

Girls of spring

Better post this before we get too far from "spring" (though it feels like October at the moment). A few weeks back, on a sunny, warm Sunday, I saw a shapely gal walking (left) with her rough-looking BF. I liked her look: pretty but not gorgeous; clothing that showed off her form but odd enough to not be slutty. Daisy Dukes and cowgirl boots, very nice. A few days later, on a drizzly morning, saw a girl stopped at a light with her bike (right). Very pretty with pretty blonde hair, Cookie Monster blue top, frilly skirt, black leggings, tall high-heeled boots. Very odd attire for biking, even as a commuter cyclist.

Au revoir

See what a difference inking everything makes? My time in Paris was tourism-packed, and I made a point to see things I had not seen before: Latin Quarter, Palais and Jardin du Luxembourg, Montmartre, Sacre Coeur, the Victor Hugo square place. So many cute guys walking about, sunning themselves. Of course, I don't fare so well in the sun. Mid-night, I awoke and my arm (which falls asleep often during the nights) had fallen asleep worse than ever before. I couldn't feel it all the way up to my shoulder. I was freaking out a little, and it took a long while for any sensation to return. My flight home was uneventful.

A less pretentious Euro-tour

The next spread in my pretentious Moleskine. Friday we wander more of Lyon, enjoying the sounds of the electronic music festival going on all weekend, as well as its revelers. Saw lots of odd looking long-haired men. That evening, Xavier had to work and I made my way to a very nice jazz bar. Climbing up the hills of Lyon using passages and alleyway staircases, I arrived in a sketchy run-down square full of thugs, a comedy club, and the jazz bar. Saturday, Xavier and I snake our way around the city, enjoying time with his cats, coffee, dessert, and the beautiful city. Sadly, the blue line drawing I did of the owner of the Vietnemese restuarant didn't scan well. I think if I ever compile a book of my travel sketches, I'll need to ink them. Or at least use black pencil.