I’m really pleased to officially release the final art for the EFF teeshirt I’ve been working on for their DEFCON offering this year. Check out the glow in the dark action here. From their press release:

Say hello to EFF’s second, limited-edition, DEF CON membership t-shirt! Only 340 premium-level donors who attend this year’s DEF CON 19 in Las Vegas will be able to get these new “ENCRYPTION SAVES” shirts, specially designed by Joe Alterio of the creative charity Robots & Monsters.

The folks down at EFF are not only templars for the righteous in my opinion, but they’re really, really nice folks, to boot. I’m so happy I got to do this for them. If you’re at DEFCON, pick up the teeshirt; and if you’re not, watch this space, I’ll be auctioning a few teeshirts from this site, get ‘em while they’re very hot!

UPDATE! Boinged! And Laughing Squid called me a ‘charity demigod’. Oh, you!

The esteemable blog HiLoBrow (voted one of Time Magazine’s Best Blog of 2010) has asked 25 writers and artists, from Douglas Rushkoff to Annie Nocenti, to wax philosophic on one panel of their choice drawn my the immortal Jack Kirby. I was lucky enough to be one of the 25 asked – go check out my entry on Kirby’s run helming Black Panther.

One of the great ironies of influence is that one can’t necessarily pull apart what has caused you to be what you are, artistically, without removing a few of the key bolts that keep the whole structure in place. Asked to remove a specific influence from an artist’s work is a massive game of Jenga, and just because the artist is rooted in their field by the various flotsam and jetsam that they have been exposed to, it often doesn’t make the artist the sum of the parts. It is thus that, when my good friend Matt Rebholz approached me and offered for me to spend to a day make a silkscreen print with the infinitely generous and patient Greg Nanny of Drive-By Press that I jumped at the chance and told him to his shock I had never done one before.

Clearly, my work is heavily influenced by the analog printing process; my parents, founding members of the Graphic Workshop at Mass. Art, were old hands at the process, and our household was filled to the brim with incredible prints, from lithography to woodcuts to silkscreens. However, I also happened to come of age when the first Apple computer, the Mac IISE, entered into our house. Photoshop 1.0 was a revolution, and I totally taken with it. And so it went, me recreating the influences of my life (analog) with the tools of the future (digital). And last Thursday was my first dip back into the cool waters of influence. It feels good.

The above print is the first of a series of prints I’m planning on creating, based upon the lesser known tales of Phaedrus (Aesop), as translated by the amazing, amusingly old-school Christopher Smart . If you can’t read it, the text is below:

The Dog, Treasure, and Vulture.

A Dog, while scratching up the ground,
‘Mongst human bones a treasure found;
But as his sacrilege was great,
To covet riches was his fate,
And punishment of his offence;
He therefore never stirr’d from thence,
But both in hunger and the cold,
With anxious care he watch’d the gold,
Till wholly negligent of food,
A ling’ring death at length ensued.
Upon his corse a Vulture stood,
And thus descanted :-” It is good,
O Dog, that there thou liest bereaved
Who in the highway wast conceived,
And on a scurvy dunghill bred,
Hadst royal riches in thy head.”

You can see a larger version of the print on my Flickr page. The few still remaining will go on sale soon. Stay tuned.

So I thought I’d give a quick run down of March, now that it’s gone, because it was SO FREAKING crazy.

My show, the aforementioned Landscapes of Quarantine show, was a rousing success, I would say almost too much so; the place was so rammed with tight-clothed young people that the art was definitely secondary to the scene. Which isn’t to say that’s a totally bad thing; I suspect the copious amount of FREE BEER might have had something to do with it, but all in all, a fantastic time was had. You can check out the photos of the event here. The rest of night after the opening was a blur, but I do know at once point, we closed down a Cuban restaurant in Soho, after which the very nice waitress flicked the lights on and off so we would leave. Sorry, mystery waitress! I had like 37 whiskeys, my bad.

You can see the full 8 pieces, generously published on HiLoBrow here.

In other totally amazing news, the show actually got written up as a Critic Pick in Art Forum, with yours truly being name dropped. Oh, dang!

I awoke the next morning after the show, hangover in tow, to find that I had a bunch of work to do for a freelance job, in between which I packed, spent some time with my lovely and patient wife, and then HIT THE ROAD to Austin the next morning.

South by Southwest was a blast, and the panel was a raging success, judging by the tweet feed that was the result.

Best comment: “Best panel ever.”
Worst comment: “Disappointed by #incol panel – too unfocussed! ”

Make what you will of that.

You can see images of the panel and SXSW here, which is kind of a condensed version of the full photo album I have. Friends and relatives, check out my personal blog for whole shebang.

The SXSW trip was amazing and fun, I saw all sorts of cool stuff, as expected, and there’s plenty of great places to check it all out. It was also rather watershed for me, though, and for something that concerns SXSW – or the trip at all – only tangentally. After the end of the panel, halfway into my second beer, I started to feel very ill; unnamed, nice bizdev woman taking to me, I apologize for abruptly leaving midway through our conversation, I had to run and upchuck in the bathroom. The rest of the afternoon was a blur, and it was only through the generosity of my friends and fellow panelists that I got home to where I was staying. and promptly passed out for the rest of the day and evening.

There’s a lot of prosaic explanations for this sort of thing – food poisoning, 24-hour-bug, or what have you. However, in my traditional fashion, I like to ascribe it to a more goof-ball reason: I think my body was telling me I was spread too thin and pursuing things in wrong fashion. Over the past nine months, I have been involved in a workshop with peer crit reviews every week, running Robots + Monsters, planning for the SXSW panel, acting as Creative Director for a small boutique web firm, and handling all of my big illustration projects. I think it’s time I pare down, and focus on the one big thing that I’ve been avoiding forever.

That’s right: building my Death Ray. Finally!

Page 3. Click for larger size.

I’m very excited to extend the invite to anyone in the area to the opening night of the group show I’m a part of, Landscapes of Quarantine. From the press release:

NEW YORK CITY – February 17, 2010 – On Tuesday, March 9, 2010, Landscapes of Quarantine, a group exhibition exploring the spatial implications of quarantine, will open at New York’s landmark Storefront for Art and Architecture. The exhibition consists of new works by a multi-disciplinary group of eighteen artists, designers, and architects, each of whom was inspired by one or more of the physical, biological, ethical, architectural, social, political, temporal, and even astronomical dimensions of quarantine. Curated by Nicola Twilley and Geoff Manaugh of Future Plural, the exhibition will be on view at Storefront until April 17, 2010. Entrance to the exhibition is free; the launch event on March 9 is open to the public and will showcase a one-night-only, inflatable quarantine prosthesis attached to Storefront’s façade, designed by architects Jeffrey Inaba and Joseph Grima, as well as a range of beers generously donated by Brooklyn Brewery.

This was a bit of an adventure for me, and, I suspect, several other participants, since we had 10 solid weeks of inspection of the subject matter, group idea sharing, peer crit, and a final group review with a stellar cast of all-star critics. As an illustrator by trade, and often a web-enabled artist by choice, I don’t usually have the luxury of ruminating on a project an entire season before putting it together. Often times when, late at night, I’m reading the working practices of famous artists I admire (as I’m wont to do, whiskey in hand), I’m envious of a time when artists were able to chin-scratch for years on one project, painting, or attempt. Maybe I’m romanticizing it, but from a pure economics point of view, unless you’re a really famous artist, what someone might get from selling a piece of work hasn’t kept up with cost of living increases, to say the least, so more work is demanded in a shorter amount of time. But maybe it’s also personal. I’m a type-A guy who’s also impatient. Regardless of the reason, the length of time was a breath of fresh air. To be able to share that with a select group of amazing artists who gave some un-sugar-coated honest critique almost felt like I was being greedy.

Detail from Page 1

My particular piece, titled Pages 179-187 is a result I came to after studying both the roots of quarantine in the modern age, as well as the plague epidemics of early times. As we were introduced to the historical material, I became fascinated with the power imbued in the  Powers That Be to make very real decisions of life and death, sometimes with very little real information at hand. The idea of The Word From On High, for the good of all, became, in my mind, inextricably linked with the power structure behind a quarantine, and the nearly-imperialist power that implies, on top of how that word was distributed to the masses. I quickly found a relation between what the elder times placed their faith in (God), and what our more modern forebearers trusted (technology), and came up with a kind of ‘lost fable’, told in a form that was a consciously reminiscent of both 19th century etchings and cartoons, and both Italian and Byzantine illuminated manuscripts. My hope is that the result is 8 pages that are nearly ahistorical, so universal are both the themes and the images.

My initial plan was to get these pages binded in a leather tome, but after some teeth gnashing and rending of clothes, I ended up abandoning the plan, due to both a logistical flaw: how do I get every page to be shown without asking the audience to touch the pages?), and a thematic one (isn’t that a little Epcot-y?). My final framing choice I think you’ll find both subtle and really cool and appropriate.

I’ll be posting all the pages, eventually, but if you’re in the area, please do come down and pull me aside to say hello at the opening on March 9th,  at the Storefront for Art and Architecture. It should be a blast, and not only can you see my pieces in person, you can see all the other fantastic stuff on display. See you there!

Download the original press release here.

I’m very excited to announce that I’ve been invited to participate in the “Landscapes of Quarantine” salon, cohosted by BLDGBLOG and Edible Geography. From the description:

“…an eight-week, intensive, independent design studio to be hosted this autumn in New York City; its brief is to create original and thought-provoking design projects that explore the spatial implications of quarantine. The results of the studio will then be the subject of an exhibition at Storefront for Art and Architecture in spring 2010.”

Of the many things I love about Geoff Manaugh’s BLDGBLOG, his healthy respect for intellectualized science-fiction is at the top of the list. Too often disregarded as nerd-stuff by the low culture and child’s play by the high-brows, (though it’s neither,) science fiction is exactly what we will be examining in this workshop – what the future will bring to us from prevalent current trends, and how we will adapt. I can’t think of anything less akin to child’s play. But okay, maybe it’s a little nerdy.

The list of participants is both amazing and a little intimidating: I hope I can keep up! I look forward to seeing what we all come up with, and thanks tons to Geoff for the invite.

I started a tradition last year that I thought might keep me a little more honest in terms of my career and what I want to happen in my life. I put down on paper (or screen, I guess) all the stuff that I achieved over the past year, and what I hope to achieve next year. Nothing like a little public failure to really move your ass into gear.

Without further ado, here is last year’s post.

Let’s take my goals one at a time:

• “- Get hitched to the greatest girl on the planet.”

GRADE: A+. I did indeed get married to the Greatest Girl on the Planet. The shebang was a total blast

• “- Get a publisher for Robots And Monsters: The Book.”

GRADE: B+. I do have several interested major publishers, and I also in the process got an amazing literary agent, Gretchen Stetler. So it’s sort of there. No contract yet, no check in hand, no book tour. The framework has been set. Which is totes sweet.

• “- Assemble the pieces for a solo art show.”

GRADE: C. I did start a few studies, and I know much more what the finished thing will look like, but I screwed up my show dates in Seattle, and had to drop out, and I haven’t done much in terms of actual piece production. Get it together, Alterio.

• “- Get some comics in a few newspapers.”

GRADE: F. Didn’t even try. I did get a comic in Mark Kingwell’s 2009 book, though, which is rad, so that’s a more than amazing consolation prize.

• “- Finally do something constructive with The Basic Virus.”

GRADE: D. There’s some talk about others wanting to serialize it, but that has been all talk up to this point.

• “- Fix my motorcycle.”

GRADE: A. I fixed my motorcycle, and then I sold it, which I’m actually very happy about. Owning a motorcycle in the city with a garage or parking space is a real drag. I’m strictly walking now, and it rules.

So, all in all a really awesome year personally, but just a so-so year in terms of accomplishing the goals I set out to do, which is always a little disappointing. However, when I take a stock of everything, I can be pretty proud of myself. I am getting more illustration work than ever, I’m still way busy, even in these lean economic times, and our start up, Squonk Studios, is on the verge of getting a big client, and Robots and Monsters is more popular than ever, with over 4 Grand raised for the Electronic Frontier Foundation.

My grandma died this year, which was tough. But then again, Barack Obama was elected, which rules, and I also won my Fantasy Football Superbowl. So all in all, I’m pretty damn happy about 2008, on balance.

In 2009 I will:

+ REALLY nail down a publisher for R and M. Seriously.

+ REALLY do something with the Basic Virus. Seriously.

+ REALLY get going on a solo show. Seriously.

+ Go on my honeymoon to Hawaii, Land of Intriguing Tropical Drinks

+ Do my best to get my name out there more, be it throguh print, web, or word of mouth.

Here’s to your best health, a happy family, and a great 2009. Thanks for reading this humble blog.

Sitting in my inbox about a week and a half ago was a small polite email from a student, who, for the sake of anonymity and brevity, I’ll call Mike.

Mike’s email came to me through a good friend, and Mike was looking for a little advice, which, if I actually took a look at my life and career, is so laughable as to start looking under rocks to see if Ashton Kuchner was having me on. But I’m not so self-examining, and Mike was an earnest guy who had something of a dilemma that I found some kinship with, because I found myself with a similar conundrum.

Let me reiterate again that Mike has been very gracious in accepting the facts as I laid out to him, and he seems like a very bright guy, and I want in no way to impinge this gent: he seems like a focussed and ambitious dude. However, I found it my job, always a filthy task, of disabusing him of some of his more fantastical notions about what it was like to be in the creative biz.

Mike really wants to be a line producer (no offense, Mike, but god knows why – I pray you flee the film industry as soon as you realize who, in fact, signs the checks. But I digress.). But Mike went to school for illustration. And so Mike’s initial plan, as I understood it, was thus: have the breezy, lucrative career of an illustrator, as a day job, and in the meantime, at night, work on the line producer career, eventually scuttling the illustration career when you can make a go of being a producer full-time.

It is at this point, if you are in fact an illustrator, that you conversely laugh without joy under your breath and take a drag of your Gauloise, or just shake your head and continue to pick at that scab on your arm.

It is an insane plan, but it is an insane plan built around very noble aspirations, and who can fault Mike for that? My response, in part:

A day later, a hermenautic web group I’m a part of reminded me of the existence of underground cartoonist Gary Panter. I know that sounds odd to say, that anyone should need to be reminded of a piece of knowledge they knew, but it really works that way sometimes, I’ve found; Gary Panter made a great impression on me years ago, and then, for some reason, he got shoved into the archives. And after being reminded of him, I did a little research on him, and stumbled upon something marvelous that everyone else older and smarter than me has known about for centuries. The wonderous and prescient article of declaration known as The Rozz Tox Manifesto.

The Rozz Tox Manifesto was a screed written by Panter in 1987, and is a bit long to reproduce here, but there’s a few gems that sum up the tone:

+ Beautiful and effective communicative marketing and aesthetic media are not innately evil: merely seductive. However, seductive aesthetics and media are prone to undermine common sense and vision in a capitalistic culture

+ It is unfortunate and unacceptable what vile and lazy do-nothings are given unwarranted credence for mouthing such foul and mean clichés as ‘rip-off’ and ‘sell-out.’ They have no understanding of our economy and the time it takes society to go. Confess and shut up! Capitalism good or ill is the river in which we sink or swim. Inspiration has always been born of recombination.

+ Waiting for art talent scouts? There are no art talent scouts. Face it, no one will seek you out.

+ Law: If you want better media, go make it.

The Rozz Tox made a great impression on a one Matt Groening, who took it’s lessons to heart and proceeded to shove his strange visions of family life into every concievable nook of American culture. I myself credit The Simpsons as a major influence, as do most people my age, I suspect, whether they know it or not. Reading through Rozz Tox made my brain click a few times, and a few times more, until a strayed back to Mike, and his poor conundrum.

The link is thus: I suspect, should Mike have proposed coming up with a bizarre cartoon family and an attempt to stick their faces on everything from lunchboxes to underwear to his mentors, his professors may have have pushed back and urged him to Create Great Art instead. It’s not too much of a stretch: the same folks who could, with a straight face, urge Mike to go ahead and try and be an illustrator during the day and a line producer at night have little real concept of what the hell is going on out here in the trenches. 

As artists, we are told it is bad to make art for money. Only acceptable is to make art as the pervasive, unique, and media shattering hammer to smash the perceptions of the squares! Then finally, when the heaping wreck of the well thought of is smoldering at your feet, is it acceptable to light your cigarette from the smoldering ashes in smug yet disinterested celebration.

Yes, please, more Gary, tell ‘em how it is, that getting paid to draw pictures by clients is more than impressive, because when someone else’s job is on the line, it actually means something. Do I feel a combination of guilt and shame at my outsider status, the illustrator-before-artist, the artist that went to film school? You bet. Does it come through on this blog? I sure hope so.

Take shitty jobs to follow your goal, don’t get too comfortable, don’t buy too many toys, don’t take yourself too damn seriously, be gratified that you actually get to do something creative with your day while most poor slobs have to shovel shit for a living, do not ever fucking give up, and most of all – just because you got paid for it doesn’t mean it’s not art. Don’t forget, kemosabe.

I’ve been hammering away at a pitch for a Robots and Monsters graphic novel, and I created this for another round. I won’t let the cat out of the bag on plot details, but suffice to say, it has a lot of robots and monsters.

This guy sent a briefcase around the world via DHL with a GPS device inside: the GPS device recorded and sent back it’s exact coordinates, which was plotted on a map of the world, creating the drawing above. Cool.