Another portrait, another day.

I'm having fun producing these little ditties, and they teach me a little something every time. I really need to loosen up and inject some painterly qualities into my digital work, but at least the likeness isn't bad. Maybe I'll get more adventurous with them soon, but the main goal is to be painting. Goal accomplished.

Anna and Mother's Syndrome

This is the original image I posted. I was so proud of it not three hours ago:

In science, there is a theory called the happiness theorem. It postulates that if a). woman is x). unhappy, then y). everyone is unhappy. It looks like this:

 x(a)     :(      =      x(y)      D:

I posted the art, I liked the art, I texted Anna proudly, and I received a text back saying only, 'Oh Lord.' And not the 'Oh Lord, thank you for this cornucopia that just fell from the sky,' more the 'Oh Lord, why hast thou seen fit to smite us?'

So I asked her what was wrong, and she said, "Is my nose really that giant and hooked?" And that's when I knew: I had Mother's Syndrome.

Mother's Syndrome is when you love a piece of art, you think it's the most wonderful piece ever, and you show it proudly to all the other parents. 'Look how beautiful she is, listen to how sweetly she sings,' you cry. And all the other parents smile tightly, avert their eyes, and plug their ears.

Some artists never get this. Some artists hate everything they do, which makes me wonder why they do art. I'm the opposite. Every newfangled piece I drool onto the canvas is my baby, and my baby is the BEST BABY IN THE WORLD.

It isn't always a lost cause, though. Most times, I've just stopped a few hours short, or failed put things together in enough places to throw it off. So I gave Anna the usual artist lingo for 'Yeah I effed up,' which is 'I meant to do that.' And, as per usual, I got over my motherly pride and fixed the darn thing.

So here's the update. Is it better? See for yourself. Is it done? Well, we all know what happened last time I said that. Rock-a-by baaaby in the tree top.....

P.S. Anna was very gracious, never once criticizing my work. The conversation above is edited for humorous purposes, and does not represent her humble and sensitive nature.

P.P.S If you scroll from one picture to the next and back again in rapid succession, it looks like she's bobbing her head and laughing.

The Veil

We will never have flying cars for personal use. Of all the things we might have in the future: cyborgs, space exploration, a penchant for ridiculous fashion, we will never have flying cars. It isn't impossible to invent. It is impossible to make it safe.

We can't really have thinking robots either. Let's face it, people, it just takes one loose wire, overly logical computing assessment, or Will Smith before they go haywire. I mean, this robot chick looks nice. She's giving us some kind of weird look, but it's friendly enough.

I painted her in oils on illustration board. She's 16x19. But like I said, just one solar flare later she's opening air locks and flooding the enrichment center with a deadly neurotoxin.

Nebulous Future

I am the art version of Mr. Rodgers. How say you, David? You do not have a special garden filled with puppets, or a train that runs through your living room. You don't have a special bond with the mail man and tour the box factory on a regular basis. I don't even know if I want you to be my neighbor.

Alright, all of those are valid points, even if they're a little harsh. But I do one thing just as he does. When I get serious about work, I change clothes. I don't change my sweater though, mind you. I change pants. No, I do not have another, similar pair of pants under my pair of pants that I cover up again with a new pair of pants. I wear paint pants.

They aren't my favorite pair, but my mom loves them almost as much as she likes my unkempt facial hair, so I try to wear both whenever she is around.

I am not a messy painter. But sometimes, as Mr. Rodgers knows, a man has to get serious. This is my first time painting a nebula, but it actually went pretty smoothly, outside of me having to wipe a bunch of paint away and start from scratch(I only did that once, so I am declaring it a victory). It was a daunting task, and one that I had help with. Mr. Donato Giancola unknowingly assisted my ignorance in the ways of space-dust. The link is the trailer for an amazing tutorial. Without further ado, here is the painted piece.

She probably has a few more hours of touch ups and highlight balance. I will probably go back into the wiring below her and do something a little less nebulous. Bah ha. Well at least the subject of this piece isn't 'veiled.' The nebula I chose to put behind her was the Western Veiled Nebula. It's funny. That I said veiled.

Well at least someone got it.

Decision time!

I have two digital comps that will help me decide where to take my painting next. They are fairly good looking on their own, though, so I thought I would offer the illusion of choice. Which is to say, I've made up my mind, but I'd like to see what you guys think. Should I paint A?:


Should I finish it out in the style of B?:


Or really make it the best painting EVAR with C?:


Or my own fanboy creation?

Busy Bee

I have gifts for you today! Everyone look under your chair! Now look back at the screen. Let's pretend you weren't already looking at the screen before you read that last message. Now look at all the pretty progress pics I have! First off, I have the 1980's love-child of Madonna and Molly Ringwold:



I know I've said that every painting goes through an ugly stage, but this is more of a 'kill it with fire' stage.

I tapped into my inner Breakfast Club, and dance-montaged my painting away. At the end of the three minutes and thirty-eight seconds it took for "We Are Not Alone" to finish wailing, I had gotten this much done:


It is amazing what you can do when you set down the paints and dance. I call her "Girl with the Pearl Eye."

I liked the creepy way her milky eye stared into my soul, but my sister (the gracious model) came in and told me to finish it. I resisted, but she dragged me into her office and told me I was a punk and dared me to hit her. So I got back to work.


I was going to finish here, but something felt off. I needed to have an emotional outpouring and fall for the innocent prudish girl. Which is painter-code speak for 'do the hair.'


And that ends my first day of painting on 'Future Girl,' also known as, 'The Painting I Will Re-name Because Future Girl is Dumb.' After a good six hours and the realization that prudish girls put out too, I put on my leather gloves and headed to the nearest football field for some hardcore freeze-frame fist pumping.

New paintings

Hokay, so. After moving to another state, I am back in business. First off, I have progress on a new painting comission:



It is kind of confidential, so this will have to do for now.

Lately I've been in a rut. I am surrounded by so many unfinished paintings that have just 'this much' to do before they are finished. I am at all times obsessed with trying to produce sale-able gallery work that can fit into my illustration portfolio. So I nay-say this, I poo-poo that, but in the name of keeping my artistic integrity, I have limited my output both painting and creative wise.

Who cares how socially relevant a dude with a jet pack punching some sorry alien is? It looks cool, and it works great for an AD. I keep telling myself that, and then doing something else. Ha. So this is the latest in my series of paintings I feel fit all the criteria. After this painting maybe I'll do my best 'spaceman punch' piece.

I want SIMPLE. Just a really nice portrait with a hint of science fiction. This will be my final entry into the joint show I am doing with my dad, Gary Hovey, at Bears Mill.