Been doing some regular life drawing with the great folks at Aardman here and really learning again. I love it.

On a side note... I went to see the 30th anniversary of Jeff Wayne's rock opera version of War Of The Worlds in Cardiff, Wales, on Thursday with my boss and long time comrade, Donnie Long, and never before have felt more in touch with my inner nerd... it was magical and utterly fascinating. I loved it. Watching leaves fall from the rafters in front of a giant animatronic robot with a flashlight shining through mist acting as a heat ray made my palms sweat for the comforting weight of a twenty sided dice. Roll baby roll... kill that orc... dodge... parry... kiss the elf queen... live a little... its just hit points, right?

The sun shines here in Britain so I'm off to look for a patch of green to play baseball in.
More naked people to come!
(I've always wanted to write that).
KP.

BANANAS

I haven't posted in ages... I've been drunk in England. I don't have a scanner (there's one at work but I'm infinitely intimidated by the gaggle of French artists and one Welshman... whipping out drawings in such a studio is like being back in high school gym class... I'm not sure if my dick is small, but I'm pretty sure it's not big... so better to try and keep it under the towel... however, after a post on Cartoonbrew on animated crotch shaving (thanks Gillette... pricks... there's another f*&king responsibility I didn't need in my life), I figure with some steady hands I may be fine).
Having said all that, things are ok here in Bristol. Still working for the studio system with all its ups and downs, but I'm learning a ton and I hope getting better not worse at my job. Hard to tell. On days where I feel good, I'm quickly reminded I'm an idiot. Same old story that goes back to when I was eleven (probably beyond that, but my brain cells are all dead from the early days... I don't remember Sunday School, but I'm sure there was touching). For specific reference of said idiocy, open your book to the table of contents and see the chapter: Girls, subheading: Failure, pages 102-487. It's quite comprehensive.

Enough of that auto biographical crap... Do you ever think about Bananas? They're everywhere, but where the f&*k do they come from? I can go into any grocery store here in Britain, and if its after noon, there's no strawberries, but there's always bananas. I guarantee you they cannot grow bananas at that volume on this soggy island, and I can only imagine how it must have been to see one back in the olden times... and when I say olden times, I mean really olden times (I'm talking Augustus and the Roman Empire old shit... before fur traders, and the shooting on the Plains of Abraham). I wonder how people reacted to Bananas the FIRST time they arrived on the shores of Britain with those Romans who were looking for a good place to rape and bath. To the villagers of the Empire it must not be that different from the first time they laid eyes on a rhinoceros... earth shattering and beyond reality in color, shape and taste (ever tasted a rhinoceros?... chunky... if chunky was a taste (between sour and shitty)). And, as we all know, once the Banana is known the smoothie cannot be far behind, and drink food is just around the corner. If only they had blenders.

I remember the first time I ate a Lychee Nut... BAM... it was like some delicious kick in the gob hole... I was floated up to heaven and for the time that juicy, pulpy, white fruity flesh rolled around in my meat pit, I was transported to the pearly gates for a square dance and knee slap with a God I was sure didn't exist. I'd renounce Darwin for another yummy Lychee.

Perspective... I live in a world with unbelievable distribution and while many a weekend shopping trip I buy bananas in my local store (readily without worry or thought), I'm pretty goddamn sure the countries they come from are not eating British Lamb... or Alberta Cows... or California Sea Lions... heeeellll no... It's all out of perspective. From this day forth, I will swear to appreciate every... EVERY Banana I put in my hairy face... I will peel it with reverence and eat the insides like it was a frozen Mammoth discovered in the melting glaciers of Russia (I heard that story somewhere). What could thousand year old meat possibly taste like? Rich I suppose.

Who will eat the last Banana in the world? (consider the changing climate and all)... That would make a really compelling story I imagine. THE LAST BANANA... It almost writes itself... and the porno to follow would have the same title. I hope we're still around as a species to watch it.

Bye.
KP.

So...its been a while. Sorry. Nothing much to post really. Been scattered relocating and working, meeting new people and drinking beer in glorious British pubs. The world seems to be spiraling into a big old pile of sh#t and most of the news is bad... so I really don't know what I can add to all of that.

All I can say is that I'm glad nobody is trying to cut my head off in Buffalo. That's about as bad as any day can get. And if someone was to cut my head off, I would hope it wasn't in Buffalo... Hamilton, ok... preferably Dundas, but I'll settle for Burlington or Stratford. There are times in Detroit when I felt like somebody had taken a whack at my squizzy nether region while sitting at the border waiting to make a pilgrimage to the nearest Bob's Bigboy.... But if I had to go, I'd really like to get chopped to bits in Maui. Even a brutal death can't be that bad in Maui.

I'm joking, but in all seriousness... all we can all hope for is a life that means something to others. Personally, all I really need is the purpose of giving back to the world an ounce of what the world has given me. So as my soul leaves the tattered veil of a self indulgent life, I only ask for one thing... that my body be given back from whence it came... namely, the soil that knows no till... the living byproduct of consumption... I want to be fed to a pack of medium sized dogs... and when those dogs finally pass my constitutional self, to have a member of my family standing by to sing "The Circle of Life" while patiently waiting for the squatting animal to finish the business life started some thirty three years ago. Only to be scooped by a blue baggie (has to be blue), taken down to the ocean, and tossed with great velocity on the broad side of the nearest life guard hut (while still singing the song). What more could a life want than to go with such a fitting tribute.
Cheers all,
KP.

young 'n old

Had some extra doodles in my sketchbook... I believe the old ladies were all clustered in terminal two at LAX while I was waiting for a red eye, clucking and pecking like a group of roosting hens. I love drawing old people... I wish more animated stories were told about old people... looking forward to UP.
Drew the girls at the park while my loverly wife was getting diagnosed with pneumonia. She nearly hacked up a lung before finally dragging her bones to the doc, but all ends well... she kicked it with some antibiotics and such... and I got this picture. I know I post a lot of drawings of my kids, but they do provide me with 90% of my muse. Just like old people, I think kids are really funny (I love watching them play...kids need to play...adults need to play...we all need to play). Opposite sides of the same coin.
Anyhow, its two days till Christmas and this egg nog won't drink itself.
Bang bang bang went Frankie's gun... he shot me down Lucille.
Best wishes,
KP.

Painted this one on a ten hour plane ride back to LA from the UK. Its a long trip, but with all the movies and booze, it's not that different than sitting at home on my couch for a whole day (otherwise known in my circles as "Sunday"). The main difference between my couch and the plane, is the fact that on the plane I have to wear pants.

Between you, me and this blog, I cannot wait to reach the age that I can take my pants off anywhere I choose, for the blatant cause of comfort (completely non-sexual)... I suppose if this time of my life comes too early, it would probably cramp into my daughters' transparent dating situations. I can't imagine them wanting to bring home their boyfriends to meet the folks and endure the awkward silences with their walleyed, scarcely crotch covered hairy old man rocking in the middle of the living room with a bag of dried bananas, a bottle of pure Manitoba rum and a gummy cat blindly sucking a hacky sack full of catnip. Don't get me wrong... when it comes to my little gals, at an appropriate age, I don't really have a fundamental problem with the idea of boyfriends... I just don't want it to be too easy on the little bastards, and doubt that I have the stomach for direct confrontation. I suppose only true love will put up with the sight of your girlfriend's pappy using his naval as a beer cozy while watching reruns of WWF on ESPN classics (whatever happened to Koko B. Ware?).

Oh, that reminds me... Suplex time... best get to work shaving my head and putting shine oil on my mighty guns. Tonight, that wife of mine is finally going to taste some turnbuckle. OHHHHHH YEAAAHHHHHHHH!

stuff

Just got back from a quick trip to TO for a good friend's wedding. Had a blast and caught up with a lot of friends I haven't seen in a while. Funny thing, going back to Toronto...I don't really get homesick, however, riding on the GO train from Oakville into Union station really made me nostalgic for Canada. Public transportation and trees are the two things I miss the most living in LA. Of course in Ontario you don't get to watch the city burn in an apocalyptic haze, raining ash down upon the narrow threads of civilization barely holding back the rolling mass of anarchy that seems to be constantly flexing under the sweaty California sun. Drama...oh drama.

Anyhow, I went subway sketching with Mr. Bobby Chiu and his renown band of merry doodlers. I'm pretty rusty, but had fun. Talented bunch roaming the Sunday underground there in old Hogtown. Gotta love the sound of the subway...beeebopboooo.....
Cheers all!
KP.

An idea or a rant?

There comes a time in every nerd's life when they awaken in the morning and stare up at their spackled snot stained ceiling and without malice or forethought they announce to the God fearing world a wholly realized and purely altruistic, "f@#k it".  Splitting the atomic fabric of society, a release of energy capable of leveling tall egos erupts like ripples of salt laden ocean fury, wave upon wave of raw power crushing the rocky hills and valleys that once defined the boundaries of "cool", pounding cliques into irrelevant pools of insignificant waste.  There is nothing more powerful than a geek who refuses to bow to the shame of society.  When the brain wakes up and realizes it can wear the skin of the whole without fear of retribution, the nerd, like a bloated caterpillar curls up and emerges from its cocoon as a fully realized organism, stronger for the abuse, seasoned with independent thought and calcified in creative armor.

If this is my dogma, then I must profess a belief that when the jocks win, society loses.  All anyone has to do is look around at how the world has been run for the last eight years.  I, personally, blame all of this mess on High School Musical.  How can our society feel sympathy for the football hero?  When we value the empathy of the quarterback over the nerd, we are all lost.  We must teach our children so they will know.  Bring back the Goonies, Gremlins and Ghostbusters.  I don't want to live in a future where nerds are not allowed to break the world, and then fix it.  I believe in the ending where Napoleon Dynamite gets to dance and where the scientist gets the girl.  I fear that, so long as the Cheetah Girls are famous, there is very little hope for America.

Happy Halloween!

KP.

ps.... My bat, demon thingy looks a bit like Bartok... synapses and grooves on the brain.  Oh well.  It's all in good fun.

Cheers.