June 10, 2017

Illustration Friday: Skate

Another little illustration for the Illustration Friday project. And by the way, I don't endorse this behavior!

June 8, 2017

Re-Make / Re-Model 002

It's late on a Thursday night, it's threatening to rain out there, and I'm going to while away a few minutes with another entry in the Re-Make / Re-Model series, wherein I take an old bit of graphic design or visual presentation,  put my semi-spin on it, and then share it with you, the reader (you can see the first entry in the series here). 

Years ago, I picked up this photo book adaptation of Alain Resnais & Alain Robbe-Grillet's Last Year at Marienbad, published by Grove press in 1962. it's a mix of still photographs from the well-regarded film and the screenplay translated from the original French. The cover shows stars Delphine Seyrig and Giorgio Albertazzi in a tight close-up overlaid with hot pink, red and orange blocks of color. It also touts the film's pedigree to an audience that probably never got to see the flick. Did it play in Peoria?

What appears below can't be called a final design (more like a comp), but I'm not afraid to put my name on it. The enduring image associated with the film will always be Seyrig in her unique feathered mantle, designed by Bernard Evein, so I opted for the obvious and included the vectorized monochrome image you see below. The title block obscures part of her face (which I would normally hate), but it's gotta go somewhere. Disclosure: When first daydreaming about this project, I considered knocking out an early-60s-style symbolic illustration of the cast. But! I think it would have been a mistake to step away from the actual imagery of the film.

June 4, 2017

Phantom Surfer(s)

I saw the Phantom Surfers last night. They were very good, though I didn't stick around to hear the Gamera theme.

June 2, 2017

Illustration Friday: Mind

A new one, done for the ever-wonderful, ever-weekly Illustration Friday project. Speaking as a person who dwells inside his own noggin sometimes, this one carries special meaning. Drawn with a combination of pens on inexpensive printer paper, scanned on an Epson WorkForce WF-2630, and colored in the current release of GIMP.

June 1, 2017

Re-Make / Re-Model 001

It's a Thursday evening, and while other members of the house are either playing Minecraft or watching the Golden State Warriors vs. _______ (?), I'm keeping myself entertained by launching a little creative exercise I've plotted for ages but never acted upon. Its premise is a simple one: grab little bits of design (record sleeves, newspaper advertisements, book dust covers, ticket stubs, matchbooks) and perform a quick presto change-o. Straightening some of the lines, bending others, and giving the overall presentation a rethink. No disrespect to the original designer is implied or intended, and in most cases, I have a genuine fondness for the source imagery and the object/item it describes. Example 001: the Adverts' 1979 RCA single, My Place/New Church, pictured below. No artist is credited. That is, in fact, a scan of my personal copy (I was never able to get the price tag adhesive off without inflicting further damage).

So, it's a perfectly serviceable sleeve that depicts frontman T.V. Smith pictured next to his giant 1979 wood-grained television set, and surrounded by paper ephemera of various rock 'n' roll sorts. The illustration plays with the geometry of his bed-sitting room (the subject of the tune) and is printed in tomato orange and indigo ink. You know what you're getting: punk rock rendered in Rapidograph.

My fantasy piece (or is it fan art?) is below. 

It's in full color, but then, RCA could have afforded it. Something about the tune and its imagery led me to think of musty, peeling, and very English-looking wallpaper that strips away to reveal (a-ha!) newspaper adverts and clippings beneath. The little geometric rendering of interior space has survived into the new version as a tiny glyph between the two words of the song title, and the band name is presented in a typeface that suggests the long-gone late 1970s. Intended to look discarded when brand new.
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