Archive for January, 2011

Two-panel Comics, circa 1976.


2011
01.29

Comics

When I see this, I think of my dad, because he always told me to write the date on my comics, as shown in some of my other illustrations. This illustration, though, was probably done before I could even understand what a “date” was. Either way, it would’ve been nice to know when this was made.

I’m guessing it’s about 1975–76, due to the lack of detail in the vehicles. But it is good evidence of my childhood fascination with machinery, aircraft, and especially military aircraft and the wanton destruction they’re capable of. I’m also quite certain this is before I saw Star Wars, which made a huge impact on the subject matter of my illustrations for a long, long time.

I picked up on the whole numbering/comic sequence thing from my dad, who had a whole collection of comic strips he’d done in the Philippines in his younger days. He was a huge comic book fan and that definitely carried over to me—not in the sense of comic collecting but definitely in the sense of comic-making.

The first scene is pretty domestic. A helicopter lowers a hook and picks up a large container. This was definitely inspired by the Sikorsky S-64 Skycrane, which I’d seen in books and owned a small die-cast replica of. It’s ability to lift a huge metal box and have it fit squarely in its belly totally fascinated me, and although it’s not necessarily illustrated in this comic, I know the Sky Crane was definitely behind it.

Now onto the comic below it, which exposes the “BOY boy” side of me—yes, the one who dug whistling bombing raids from loud, menacing prop-driven droning bombers which buzzed like gigantic killer bees in the sky, raining death and destruction onto its helpless victims below—in this case, a small military sea craft whose deck is adorned with two turrets. Let’s take a closer look.

And look—right behind the boat, a spectacle of innocent natural beauty amongst the chaos. A dolphin arcs gracefully out of the water. Aww.

But what’s this? A nuclear sub also lurks beneath the surface. What is it doing there? On whose side is it?

In the second panel the mystery deepens. The boat explodes, its hull split in half with a capital BAM, but which ship inflicted the damage?

Did the bombs indeed hit their designated target, or did the sub take a clear shot at point blank range? Or, was the sub in support of the seafaring vessel and did it fire in defense of its ally after it got bombed? Is it a surface-to-air (SAM) missile, headed for the passing bomber? Perhaps we’ll never know.

Paint me red.


2011
01.27

paint me red

The only real painting I ever did was when I took a painting class in Cerritos College in the late ’90s, which was a lot of fun. These days my kid’s done more painting than I ever have, thanks to his large easel and sprawling collection of tempera paint bottles. Oh yeah, we’ve given him all kinds of avenues for his creativity to take leisurely strolls on, and he takes ‘em.

So while he was busy brushing away one afternoon, I went ahead and did a little something of my own. I dug it. I should start painting again.

Flashback Friday: The Dart.


2011
01.22

'72 Dodge Dart

January 1973.

That’s me sitting on the hood of my pop’s ’72 Dodge Dart, with my pop beside me.

I loved that car. So did he. He used to remark how well it handled with the power steering. “See? I can drive it with my finger,” he would boast, placing a fingertip on top of the wheel and swaying it back and forth. I remember the smell of the black vinyl bench seats in the summertime and how the foam dashboard would slightly indent when I pushed my finger into it. He used to put me on his lap and let me shift the shifting lever through the gears when the car was parked, and I would pay close attention to the small display on the steering column, mouthing the letters:

P. R. N. D. 2. 1.

I used to lose myself in the simulated wood grain of the control panel and run my fingers over the chrome bezels, pulling the chrome knobs and delighting in the simplest mechanics of them locking in place with a click.

I guess that began my romance with classic American automobiles. Well, way back then. When I grew up I forgot about all that, until probably 2-3 years ago when out of nowhere, I began liking them again. Then I met Mark, who’s a total classic car connoisseur, and my appreciation for them spun wildly out of control. Well, not really, but I thought that sounded cool. Either way, I take pictures of cool cars I see on the road whenever I can. Lately it’s been kinda sparse, so I dug into the archives to see when we used to own one of our own. Enjoy.

Growing Up Star Wars: Chapter 4


2011
01.18

Star Wars battle

I couldn’t have been more thankful for reams of dot-matrix printer paper than when my mom worked as a librarian at UCLA. They were the perfect canvases for my illustrative fantasies of Star Wars battles in the far reaches of space.

On this episode of drawings from my childhood from a box marked “1977″ which my parents gave to me last year, we present two X-Wings in hot pursuit of TIE fighters. One of them of course meets its doom, as is typically illustrated in my Star Wars sagas, and the other—well, what do you know, it’s Darth Vader himself trying to flee the scene. Run, Vader, Run!

In the meantime, a Y-Wing joins the melee, perhaps randomly testing the strength of its phasers on some target off screen. Could it be a case of friendly fire? Only The Force knows for sure.

Speaking of The Force, how did Fanboys evade my radar? I just saw it On Demand. That movie was hilarious. Did it not do well at the box office?

Culver contrails.


2011
01.14

Culver contrails

I like to imagine that the perforated one was caused by an engine malfunction, or a couple of the crew members on board having fun with the smoke machine, flipping the switch on and off until the captain told him to cut it out. I can see them laughing like kids the whole time, falling off their chairs ‘coz they weren’t wearing their belts. I’d totally be one of those goofy crew members.

One day I’d like to pull a total Christo and hire a bunch of planes to make a gigantic contrail grid in the sky. A huge one, like 100×100 squares. Yeah, that’d really do a number on our climate. Oh well, wear shorts.

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