Thursday, December 1, 2011

Project 12: 3D to 2D Designs




Who are we if not the records we keep of what we've done?

Project 11: Chest of Drawers

Morrison spent hours under that table, pressed to the door, finger to the trigger of his pocket handgun. He only had one bullet left.

After a time, the groaning outside stopped. The stillness of the world was a deafening cacophony, more torturous even than the hours of endless screams.

Tepidly, he moved his legs, long past falling asleep, out from under his makeshift barricade. Gun at the ready, he made his way slowly up, cringing at every creak of the floor boards.

He stared at the door before him. The windows were boarded up. He only had one way of knowing what was on the outside.

What does a man do when there is nothing left for him here? He must go on. He must go on, he thought. Janice was dead. Elwood was dead. Even Todd Fischer was dead.

He turned the handle slowly, finger on the trigger. His hands were sweating and he feared that should the moment arise, the gun might just slip out of his hands and he would be torn limb from limb.

Finally, he thought of Maria. She wouldn't have wanted him to live like this. That's why she told him to let her go. That's why she handed him the gun and took off her wedding ring. That's why she made him do it. She understood.

He opened the door, and to his surprise, there was no shambling in sight. No moaning. No ripping, tearing, or gnawing to be heard. The zombies were all laying still in the street. From each of their heads there grew a bed of flowers, vibrant and lustrous.

Stiffly, and without a word, he made his way through the house and out the back door. He stood in the yard, overlooking Maria. What had once been a hole in her chest was now a sapling, a great and mighty Redwood, just beginning it's ascent towards the sun.

He laid next to her in the grass. He put her ring back on her finger, and slowly drug her nail against his skin. A single drop of blood was all it took for the infection. All at once he felt it, his cells expanding, his mind awakening. He placed his hand in hers, and felt his chest raise up, as a thousand roots shot from his skin.

And so the Earth was reclaimed, and every love rekindled in the springtime, when the wind blows the wild seeds to new and secret lands.

Project 10: Relief Poster

"Lauren, I have something to show you," said Mayor Habbensworth gravely. "Promise me though....promise me you'll try to understand."

"Anything for you Ted," replied the young red-head, grabbing his hand and holding it to her cheek. "Nothing can tear us apart."

The Mayor took a step back from her and sighed deeply. "It's just that...."

He grabbed a fistful of his own hair and began to pull, his skin stretching and tearing. Shedding his flesh like a loose winter coat, he stood before her, a green cycloptic horror with dripping fangs and eight writhing tentacles.

"It's just that I love you Lauren," said the monster in a dark, husky voice. "Could you ever...I mean...could you..."

Without another word she threw herself on top of him. "Of course Ted, of course I still love you!"

Kissing him fervently all over his slimy exoskeleton, Lauren began to unbutton her blouse. It was at that moment, the Senator from New Jersey entered the room.

"What is going on here?!" shouted the confused, astonished and slightly aroused senator. "Er it's not what it...um...we're....we're doing a weird sexual thing," replied the horrible tentacle monster. "This is uh...what I'm into."

Ted was forced to resign when the media got whiff of the sexual scandal, but 20 years later, married to Lauren, living in a small house in Idaho, he never once did regret revealing his true form to her. Thank goodness nobody else found out though, or he would have had to eradicate mankind.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Project 9: Shilouette Costume Video


It all looked better in my head...and on paper....


A wire coat, a paper windbreaker, a fateful trip to the horizon and beyond.


But I was wrong. No sailor am I.


The sea is a lonely, lonely place. No place for a man. Lest he should have his kitty with him.



And here's where it all falls apart.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Project 8: Soap Penguin(s)

Mr. Penguin Meets Soap Buddy.

Soap Buddy Loses Weight.

Soap Buddy II is Born.

Penguin Party!
Penguin Party on the Ice Berg.

So Here We Go Dissecting Penguin Buddy II.

He's Going to Go Swimming.

Look How Happy His Top Half Is. It Loves Swimming.

His Bottom Half Getting Wet So It Can Stick to the Water.

His Arms...Didn't Like Getting Wet.

Look at Him Swimming. He's Having the Time of His Life.

I'm Cutting Some Ripples In the Water So It's Like a Wave Pool.

Don't Tell Him It's Not Really Alaska. It's Actually a Zoo. Shh.

You Can Tell It's a Zoo Because of the Glass Made Out of Transparency. High Quality Transparency Glass Makes for Less Children Nose-Prints.

Soap Buddies I and II, at the Zoo. Good Thing Everyone They Love Back Home is Dead, or They'd Miss Their Freedom.

At Least They Can Still Go Swimming.

Project 7: The Dreaded Tape Shoes

An old man came to me one day. He said, "Help, for I have no shoes! My poor old feet have no relief, and the burning pavement is cruel!"

"Wooden clogs they break my toes, rubber soles they wear and fade, sandals offer no protection from the rain and painful things."

Though I know not why I would, I took pity upon the miser. Spending my last twenty cents, I bought my tape supplies.

Toiling all through the night, I slept not a single wink. Such sympathy I felt for the man, and his aching feet.

Twenty days spent in my room, living only off of ramen. My paper cuts would heal and split, something....something something rhymes with ramen.

The moral of the story is that I wasted my time.

I found upon completion that the man had stolen my shoes while I was working on his.

So I had to wear the stupid tape shoes.

Which crumbled under my weight.

And unraveled when I stepped into a puddle.

Never trust the homeless.

Project 6...or maybe part of 5: Drawing Our Hybrid Forms!

I asked the girl about her art. I asked if there was a deeper meaning to it's simultaneously phalic and yonic nature. She didn't know what yonic meant.

She said her art was physical manifestation of a dream that represented a memory. She said it was an introspective view into her personal experiences with the machinations of the universe that relied mainly on the viewer entering into the work with several preconceived generalizations.

I told her I didn't know what that meant. It seems like she just drew a big amorphus circle on a scrap of paper towel from the bathroom and tacked it to the wall.

She said, "Well, I made a sculputure of an amorphus circle out of paper, then I cast the circle in bronze. This is a representational drawing of the bronze cast circle. The design comes full circle, paper to paper. Don't you see? There's a metaphor in there somewhere about industrialzied nations or the fragmented nature of the self."

Then cops flooded the room and shot her. Turned out she was a serial killer. She really did make the sculpture though. I bought it at the police auction.

My snobby burgeoisie artist friends are so jealous.