I love old school, impractical ray gun designs. As long as they look neat, who cares if they’re functional?
The colors for this (and the next number of series of illustrations) are being laid down with Grutbushes. All my previous Photoshop coloring was done with the “brushes” that come with the program. I saw an online ad for the Grutbrush collection and figured that it would be fun to give these tools a try.
I love working with real world tools to make my art but, with limited time, it doesn’t work to use them to color my illustrations. With real paint one needs a good chunk of time to get any good work done otherwise there’s no point getting the supplies out. With Photoshop one can “paint” in 15 minute, 30 minute increments. No set up. No clean up.
“Change is good.” So goes an oft heard euphemism (and occasional advertising slogan).
Nah. Change is inevitable. The best changes are usually those one makes of ones own free will. I’m (intentionally) making changes to my posting schedule. Instead of twice a week I will be posting three times. Instead of posting on Sunday and Wednesday I will be posting Sunday, Monday and Tuesday.
On Sunday I will post the basic pencil art of an illustration. On Monday I will post the inked line art of the illustration. On Tuesday I will post the finished colored illustration. With my signature chop. I’ve been forgetting to put that on the work I’ve been posting here.
Thank you for dropping by. Comments are always welcome!
The Call of Cthulhu
By H.P. Lovecraft —
“In the elder time chosen men had talked with the entombed Old Ones in dreams, but then something had happened. The great stone city R’lyeh, with its monoliths and sepulchres, had sunk beneath the waves; and the deep waters, full of the one primal mystery through which not even thought can pass, had cut off the spectral intercourse. But memory never died, and high-priests said that the city would rise again when the stars were right. Then came out of the earth the black spirits of earth, mouldy and shadowy, and full of dim rumours picked up in caverns beneath forgotten sea-bottoms. But of them old Castro dared not speak much. He cut himself off hurriedly, and no amount of persuasion or subtlety could elicit more in this direction. The size of the Old Ones, too, he curiously declined to mention. Of the cult, he said that he thought the centre lay amid the pathless deserts of Arabia, where Irem, the City of Pillars, dreams hidden and untouched. It was not allied to the European witch-cult, and was virtually unknown beyond its members. No book had ever really hinted of it, though the deathless Chinamen said that there were double meanings in the Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred which the initiated might read as they chose, especially the much-discussed couplet:
‘That is not dead which can eternal lie,
and with strange aeons even death may die.’ “
LIke Jesus, Cthulhu could return at any time. Unlike Jesus, He isn’t going to care what kind of life you’ve lived. He (and whether or not “he” is male is open to debate) will call out to His fellow Old Ones and they will be awakened and return to rule the world as they once did. So the cultists believe. But human beings have been twisting and misinterpreting the words of seers and prophets ever since there have been seers and prophets. Who knows what Cthulhu will want or what he will do when he arises? Will he be a morning person? Will he be hungry? What do beings who exist beyond space and time like to eat for breakfast?