For Utne Reader, on key environmental groups that are beholden to corporate money, and therefore end up working on their behalf, or at the very least, an ineffectual agenda. It's a pleasure to work for Stephanie, who encourages illers to "surprise" her with a dynamic image.
In the age of Obama, the GOP seems in danger of self imposed extinction, as they appear to inhabit an increasingly narrow niche on the far right. This cover image for the LA Times accompanies articles on 3 ways in which the party can pull itself back from the brink. Using the tired old metaphor of the tightrope, the emphasis became the bloated fear of the elephant.
The title for this essay "God is Black" is about all I had to go on at the TIME, as it was not yet written. The premise is that the authoratative voice has been African American for awhile now (think James Earl Jones and Morgan Freeman).
It was a great opportunity to draw some of those strange little Putti characters.
It was good to receive an assignment from TIME outlining the many crimes of the outgoing administration. I could not help but think of the hulking machines driven by the puny pink aliens in War of the Worlds. I used this opportunity to indulge my armor fetish as the vessel for the little man.
Birds have always intrigued me, and I'm happy to use them as a metaphor now and then. These images were commissioned in black & white, which of course is quite rare anymore in this Turnerized world. My approach has changed due to time constraints and is very evident when comparing these two illos. There just isn't the time on two hour turnovers to draw as finely as I used to.
Birds on a wire, The New York Times (sometime back in the early 1990's)
Is anyone else having trouble getting their head around the constant talk of billions of dollars? And just when you feel like there might be a cieling to the billions, a discussion of trillions begins. And then there is this nagging feeling that no matter how much money we (taxpayers) throw at the problems (incompetence, fraud, gluttony), it's like shoveling it into a bottomless pit. Hence my idea for the current TIME commentary page on bailouts.
I've had occasions to illustrate commentaries, naratives, lessons and poetry, but never a prayer until now. The image for the WSJ accompanies a prayer said before each flight the author takes, believing it insures a safe passage.
The sepia bleed has been something I've been enjoying lately.
The Leaves are on the ground in Eastern Pennsylvania as we begin to turn our thoughts to Winter and our interiors.
To Autumn by William Blake
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.
'The narrow bud opens her beauties to
The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
Till clust'ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
And feather'd clouds strew flowers round her head.
'The spirits of the air live in the smells
Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round
The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.'
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,
Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.