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.

What a looker!

This amazing film is the 1933 animated film by Ladislas Starewicz, his opus, entited The Mascot. Perhaps best known for his 1912 film The Cameraman’s Revenge, The Mascot seems astoundingly unknown for the quality of work contained; if not an aficianado, at least I consider myself well-versed in early 20th century animation, and I had never seen it until a day ago. Regardless, it’s wonderful, and is evocative of the time when animation and narrative was created not with perfect CGI, but with whatever worked in a pinch – even trash. Judging from the rocky economic times ahead for all of us, we’d do well to take the lesson that one doesn’t need much to make amazing art.

And I’m obviously not alone in my feelings, since Chronicle Books feels the same way. I got a sneak peek the other day, and it’s a completely radtacular, even with present company’s contributions excluded (don’t get me wrong: the radtacular factor is increased to a 9.8 on the Radtacular scale, WITH the comics).

The stories are both Geoff’s, and involve some fanciful musings on architecture one futurist narrative, the other a simpler visual essay on what you could do with a whole lot of money, instead doing boring stuff like buying boats or giving it to Bernie Madoff. They were both a lot of fun to do, and like all my favorite clients, Geoff was very hands-off, and he let me tell it in my own way. Here’s hoping to more collaborations.

You can see both on my Flickr stream here and here.

Enjoy, and buy the book, while you’re at it, ya cheapskates. Whatsamattah, you think the internet owes you free entertainment? Oh, yeah.

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.

Happily, in the business of my chosen poison, comics, I happen to be both. So it was with great joy that Molly directed me to this interview with Ira Glass about what he sees as the two main anchors of any good storytelling excercise, namely, The Anecdote and The Point. Considering the great success of This American Life as a now near-franchise, and it’s consistent achievement in the face of increasing popularity (a tough hoop to jump through), he’s prolly a good guy to listen to.

As a side note, notice he never mentions accuracy or “truth”, two overrated concepts that any good storytelling effort should echew like a LA Times subscription. I sometimes get in trouble with Molly after a night of drinking, when she’ll turn to me and say: “That story you told was way more interesting than what actually happened!” I think I’m missing the part of brain that sees anything wrong with that. I mean, sure, if I was a scientist or journalist, I could see the issue: but as it stands, I consider stretching the truth part of my research.