I like how drawing in color lets me be overly self indulgent. To put textural detail on too many things, but still not lose them sort of frees me up. Also, it might lead to less sophisticated picture design. Still, a sketchbook’s a sketchbook, nah mean?

These are the gates outside my back window. They’re really pretty elaborate, and they’re in front of the most austere, boring ’70s row houses. I live in one too; they really dominate our corner of Bushwick. I have no actual factual truth here, but I have a hunch they were all built after the huge riot and fire that tore through the neighborhood then.

P.S. A dumb joke came into my head when I was writing labels for the post: The Bush over Bushwick

I’m not a real artist anymore. Ever since my girlf got me subscriptions to the New Yorker and National Geographic, all I do on the subway is read. And, apparently, the only time I draw is on the subway. Or something. I’ve been doing campaign work for the Obama, which has been fun. I’ve been lying on the couch reading. Been drawing dry erase pictures (which are getting pretty sophisticated and intense). Cleaned up my room and my “studio” (corner of the living room), sorta. I’m a goddamn bum.

When blogs are just a bunch of posts apologizing to imagined readers for not posting frequently enough. So I’m not gonna do it. I swear. ‘Cause I was sick, okay!?

This might not be the most inspiring sketchbook page ever…Anyhow, it’s from the summer. I really haven’t done much doodling lately. I’ve done some big work, but more quick illustration work than fulfilling-as-an-artist work. Feeling a little out of the groove, but also working out some more compelling story stuff for a comic I’m slow and not-steadily making.