so i finally found a good picture of hitchcock to create a vector from.coming soon.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
flash noob
so i have recently begun fucking around with flash.
here is a snippet of something i am working on.
it gets worse.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
that, that is inappropriate sir!
"tell him you are going to put his dick in a coma. tell this fucking guy that when you are done with him his penis will be eating strained peas through a feeding tube. tell him a priest is going to have to read his dick its last rites. tell him to contact funeral homes soon, because in a short time his cock will be the subject of a teary eulogy."
this is advice i gave to a friend, about how to perhaps speed up the proceedings in her current love entanglement.
while she courteously did not take my fantastic advice, i bet this would work.
feel free to try it.
my guess is it works both ways.
this is advice i gave to a friend, about how to perhaps speed up the proceedings in her current love entanglement.
while she courteously did not take my fantastic advice, i bet this would work.
feel free to try it.
my guess is it works both ways.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
movin on up
a southeastern pennsylvania band asked me to give it a go at a show poster so i came up with a design and now they are playing the chameleon club on june 11th, opening up for saliva i think.so, if you read this, are from lancaster or the surrounding area, and happen across the chameleon, let me know if you see any of these posters up.
weird thing, i am at school right now working on a project and i just had a conversation with some younger dude who happened to be looking over my shoulder while i was working on this, and asked if i wanted to do a poster for his band, i think they are going to be playing the troc sometime soon.
so, look for posters of mine coming soon to philadelphia.
the invasion has begun.
second wave, the internet.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
spare adime? or sometimes the homeless need a good kick
The title pretty much tells the tale, but fuck it.
So, i'm leaving school today and it's pouring.
And i don't have an umbrella, because i am so smart.
So i say fuck it and decide to just walk in the rain.
The subway is about three blocks from my school.
It is rush hour. People are fucking everywhere.
I step to the corner of chestnut street and wait for the light, trying to lean under an umbrella here and there. I am at the back of the crowd and i feel a presence behind me. I give a half spin to see a homeless guy leaning against a wall, like two feet behind me.
In the pouring rain, he's just sitting there, hat in hand, angrily asking people for change. I could tell by the look on his face and the fact he was sitting on a filthy and now wet city sidewalk in a downpour that he was, let's say, disturbed. I am observant like that. And the single shoe, always a dead giveaway.
What happened next, well, i could hear him speaking, rather yelling, at my back.
“give a dime, man, a dime ain't shit”, and when it became apparent to him that i intended on doing nothing but ignoring him, “you won't give me a dime? A dime ain't shit and you ain't shit for not givin me it.”
He then began swiping at my back, nipping my coat. I prayed for a red light and tried to shift away from him, but the sidewalk was so crowded i only managed to stumble closer to the rabble raiser. He continued to swipe at my pocket and i used my foot to push him away, like when your dog is begging for food, you don't want to hurt it, you just don't want it close to you, begging.
This doesn't seem to be working and as i look up and the light turned red the fucking guy lunged and tried to put his hand in the pocket of my jeans.
So he misses and gets tangled at my feet and i'm doing everything to not step on this guy and it occurs to me that to anyone who hadn't witnessed the events leading up to this point, it looks as if i am doing a spirited breakdance/curbstomping routine on a transient's head.
I kind of pushed forward and through some people, had a second to look back as i crossed the street, and he was just laying there flailing.
I reached the subway without further incident.
The moral?
Always carry AT LEAST a dime at any time in center city philadelphia.
It may save you from an unfortunate run-in with the pocket pool bandit.
So, i'm leaving school today and it's pouring.
And i don't have an umbrella, because i am so smart.
So i say fuck it and decide to just walk in the rain.
The subway is about three blocks from my school.
It is rush hour. People are fucking everywhere.
I step to the corner of chestnut street and wait for the light, trying to lean under an umbrella here and there. I am at the back of the crowd and i feel a presence behind me. I give a half spin to see a homeless guy leaning against a wall, like two feet behind me.
In the pouring rain, he's just sitting there, hat in hand, angrily asking people for change. I could tell by the look on his face and the fact he was sitting on a filthy and now wet city sidewalk in a downpour that he was, let's say, disturbed. I am observant like that. And the single shoe, always a dead giveaway.
What happened next, well, i could hear him speaking, rather yelling, at my back.
“give a dime, man, a dime ain't shit”, and when it became apparent to him that i intended on doing nothing but ignoring him, “you won't give me a dime? A dime ain't shit and you ain't shit for not givin me it.”
He then began swiping at my back, nipping my coat. I prayed for a red light and tried to shift away from him, but the sidewalk was so crowded i only managed to stumble closer to the rabble raiser. He continued to swipe at my pocket and i used my foot to push him away, like when your dog is begging for food, you don't want to hurt it, you just don't want it close to you, begging.
This doesn't seem to be working and as i look up and the light turned red the fucking guy lunged and tried to put his hand in the pocket of my jeans.
So he misses and gets tangled at my feet and i'm doing everything to not step on this guy and it occurs to me that to anyone who hadn't witnessed the events leading up to this point, it looks as if i am doing a spirited breakdance/curbstomping routine on a transient's head.
I kind of pushed forward and through some people, had a second to look back as i crossed the street, and he was just laying there flailing.
I reached the subway without further incident.
The moral?
Always carry AT LEAST a dime at any time in center city philadelphia.
It may save you from an unfortunate run-in with the pocket pool bandit.
Monday, May 19, 2008
tribute to my first experiences with vector
did this in class today.i first became interested in vector some ten years ago, when i had no idea of what it even was.
just the computerized graphic style of vector pieces drew me in.
so, here is a tribute to those first vector pictures i encountered.
with my own spin, of course.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
joe pa
vector of joe paterno my awesome girlfriend asked me to do for her dad's birthday.far from finished, skin tones are a bitch. background isn't final either, just thought i'd throw it in there as a point of reference.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
skeeter
note: based on a true story. skeeter was a good friend of mine.
"there are three obsidian cannibal orcs in the cave, congregating in the southwest corner. Listen, i will employ my shadow cloak and deal with them, you fellas sneak in behind me and plunder the chest."
right click, cloak employed, creep in behind the hulking, slobbering orcs, stealthily smite them with my newly purchased hinderon battle axe. I am a 37th level wraith, i descend, i destroy, i disappear.
"jason, you coming to bed soon? I need my medicines. This fucking kid will not stop kicking."
double click to mute the volume to my microphone.
"uh, yeah, jess, listen, i just have to finish this online application, then i'll be right in."
a door slams.
Back to my quest. Unmute my microphone.
"listen, boys, i gotta go, my wife needs some lovin. Good luck with the rock dragon in the everlasting bog. See y'all tomorrow night."
i sigh and close the application. I turn off the monitor and greasy finger smudges are illuminated neon in the glow of the console television across the tiny room. Stale smoke hangs heavy in the air surrounding me, yellowing the clapboard walls, a second hand smog is breathed in, and i cough, spit something green and menacing in the overflowing trash can beside the unsteady computer desk. I lean back in the cracked, worn, fake leather desk chair and sip from my superman returns slushie cup, the ice clicking against my teeth, the mixture of orange drink and vladimir vodka hammering down my throat, into my bloodstream, making sleep come easier. Outside, the sound of taxed tires squealing around the curve leading down our street, an engine guns, and high beams grind through the dirt covering the living room window, thick and heavy as molasses. Tires thrash the gravel driveway, and i tense up. And then, the thunderous expression of metal converging with metal, the trailer shivers, then trembles, and then falls.
I've spilt my drink on the keyboard.
Perhaps i'm getting a bit ahead of myself.
Two years ago i had just returned to north carolina from baghdad, my year of faithful service completed. I counted myself lucky to have only lost two buddies in the desert, victims of hyundai bombs. Really, war wasn't all that bad, especially with laser guided rockets and unmanned phantom bomber planes. The only interaction we ever had with the "enemy" in the 101st airborne was kicking through the corpses in some demolished building or when we would hand out chewing tobacco to the local sand kids. God, we would act as if it was candy and those fucking kids would gulp it down, handfuls of the stuff, and we would laugh and laugh as they puked their guts out. To be honest, war was pretty boring. But then again, so was raleigh.
I lived with my mom and five brothers, in a crumbling plantation house, the fields of farmland surrounding it long lost to weeds and weevils. I came home to find everything as it had been, my brothers jobless, growing pot, impregnating local chicks, sucking at the teet of government assistance. My mother had lost the battle with alcoholism years before, regulated to days upon days of finishing off 12 packs of natty ice and pissing the couch. I slept off my jetlag for two weeks in the basement bedroom and masturbated to the thought of escaping, leaving the tepid town. I was so predictable. I used my check from the army to buy a shitty computer, signed up for the internet, and lost myself in cyberspace.
One night between looking up articles on homemade pipe bombs and stroking it to lezzie porn i came across the world of warcraft, i downloaded the free trial offer, and my life changed.
My escape came electronically. I could be a fierce warrior, a magician, a hero.
Days and nights melted into one another, i rarely even turned my lights on, acne infested my face, i could not stop. I bought a headset so i could communicate with my fellow adventurers, and i met her.
I was tits deep in a quest to retrieve the crystal goblet of andorra when an angel's voice rang through my headset. I couldn't help myself, i had to know her real name. Jess.
Over the next couple of weeks we spent every moment together, finishing quests, laughing, getting to know each other, tinny conversations ringing in my ears even as i slept. Eventually i got her phone number and rang up a 900 dollar bill. I was in love.
Jess came to raleigh to live with me for two months. When i first saw her, at the bus station, i knew i would marry her. She looked as if the world had already had its way with her, the lines in her face acted as a legend mapping out her life, her hips told of years of inactivity and ice cream. It took me exactly two weeks to knock her up.
Jess decided it was a good idea to move back to her mother's house in washinton burrough, pennsylvania to have the baby, i could find work there, in my trade, as a mechanic, and we could raise our child. I was taken aback by her newly formed southern accent, her authority over me, my compliane to her ridiculous demands, but i went along. In the name of sidestepping my fate in raleigh, i lost myself in her, and i followed her to the north, to a new existence, as a father, provider, follower. I have never been a smart guy, but i should have known better.
The dust settled, and the walls of the trailer shook in relief. I stood and walked up the newly slanted living room to the broken screen door and made my way outside. Ronny, jess' mother's boyfriend, who lived with us, stumbled from his grand marquis, now neatly wedged beneath the southern corner of the trailer. I surveyed the damage.
"jesus christ, ronny, you done knocked the fuckin trailer clean off the cinder blocks!"
Ronny looked up at me, bloodshot eyes glistening. He looked back at his car.
"damnit, skeeter, i thought i told you to take that fucking car to the garage, damn brakes are wore wafer thin!"
i stood and stared at him. By now, jess and her mother stood in the doorway, i could feel their collective gaze.
"what? Ronny, goddamnit, you never told me such. Listen, get inside, you look like a wet polecat. We don't need the law here again."
He slapped my back as he strode unsteadily past me.
"listen, tomorrow we'll take the car into the shop after court. You got a couple bucks? i'm going over to bill's place for a little late night pick me up."
i fished in my pocket and handed him a wad of crumpled ones, the remainder of my army money. He stumbled up the driveway, singing skynrd, and i pushed past jess and her skeletal mother, went down the dark hallway, stepped over the mound of dirty laundry in front of my bed, and collapsed onto my futon. Sleep came easy.
The next morning i awoke to the sound of tires squealing once again, and the trailer shook once more. I stood and scratched at my crotch, the house was quiet. I strolled into the living room to find no one home, so i fixed myself a drink, sat at the computer, and begun another quest.
After two hours or so my phone chirped, vibrated off of the coffee table, i let it ring. It rang again, then again, and after the fifth time i got up and answered it.
"hello?"
"yes, is this jason bolland?"
"uh, yeah, who is this?"
" yes, hello, this is sergeant billings with the hempfield police. Do you know a ronald haskins?"
i swallowed, hard.
"yeah, he's my wife's mother's boyfriend. What did he do?"
"well, mr. Haskins asked me to call you. Uh, there is no easy way to say this. Mr. Haskins was pulled over about an hour ago on route thirty for speeding. He was doing in excess of 110 miles per hour. Upon further inspection we discovered mr. Haskins was quite intoxicated, as well as in possesion of a sizable amount of powder cocaine. He, uh, he could not make this call so i felt obliged to make it for him. He told me to relay the following message. Hold on a sec, let me get my notepad. Ahem. 'Skeeter, kevin down the block owes me a favor. Get him to take you to whatever police station i am being held in and bail me out. Don't tell jess or her mom.' Now, you need 10% of the bail, around 200 dollars, and we are at the hempfield police station, do you know where that is?"
I rubbed my forehead.
"yeah."
"do you mind if i ask you a question?"
I took a long pull from my superman cup.
"yeah, shoot."
"if you don't mind me asking, where was mr. Haskins off to in such a hurry on a tuesday morning?"
I sighed.
"he had a court date this morning, something about his suspended license."
The cop laughed.
"well, he won't have to worry about that now, will he?"
I kicked at a pair of dirty underwear in the middle of the slanted living room.
"no, no, i guess not. Listen, i should be there within an hour. Thank you for the call, officer."
click.
I pulled on a pair of filthy jeans and walked down the street to gather up kevin.
In kevin's rusty blazer on the way to the hempfield police station, my phone began chirping again. I picked up.
"private bolland?"
i sat up in my seat, at attention.
"Speaking."
"bolland, this is commander mcnulty, 5th division, 101st airborne. Son, i have some bad news."
"no surprises there."
"pardon me?"
"nothing, sir, what is it?"
"private bolland, it seems you are being called back to duty. Normally i would have just mailed you a letter, but as i was looking over your records i saw you have recently been married and are expecting a child. My heart goes out to you and your family, but you are needed, by your country. I will need you to report to fort rawlings in virginia by next monday."
i sat for a moment, listened to the engine, watched the lush trees fly by, held my breath.
"private bolland?"
I snapped to attention.
"uh, i understand, sir, i do. I am proud to serve my country. I will see you next week."
"good man, good man. See you then, soldier."
I flipped the phone shut and looked at kevin, who seemed to not even know i was there.
Escape, it's a funny thing.
"there are three obsidian cannibal orcs in the cave, congregating in the southwest corner. Listen, i will employ my shadow cloak and deal with them, you fellas sneak in behind me and plunder the chest."
right click, cloak employed, creep in behind the hulking, slobbering orcs, stealthily smite them with my newly purchased hinderon battle axe. I am a 37th level wraith, i descend, i destroy, i disappear.
"jason, you coming to bed soon? I need my medicines. This fucking kid will not stop kicking."
double click to mute the volume to my microphone.
"uh, yeah, jess, listen, i just have to finish this online application, then i'll be right in."
a door slams.
Back to my quest. Unmute my microphone.
"listen, boys, i gotta go, my wife needs some lovin. Good luck with the rock dragon in the everlasting bog. See y'all tomorrow night."
i sigh and close the application. I turn off the monitor and greasy finger smudges are illuminated neon in the glow of the console television across the tiny room. Stale smoke hangs heavy in the air surrounding me, yellowing the clapboard walls, a second hand smog is breathed in, and i cough, spit something green and menacing in the overflowing trash can beside the unsteady computer desk. I lean back in the cracked, worn, fake leather desk chair and sip from my superman returns slushie cup, the ice clicking against my teeth, the mixture of orange drink and vladimir vodka hammering down my throat, into my bloodstream, making sleep come easier. Outside, the sound of taxed tires squealing around the curve leading down our street, an engine guns, and high beams grind through the dirt covering the living room window, thick and heavy as molasses. Tires thrash the gravel driveway, and i tense up. And then, the thunderous expression of metal converging with metal, the trailer shivers, then trembles, and then falls.
I've spilt my drink on the keyboard.
Perhaps i'm getting a bit ahead of myself.
Two years ago i had just returned to north carolina from baghdad, my year of faithful service completed. I counted myself lucky to have only lost two buddies in the desert, victims of hyundai bombs. Really, war wasn't all that bad, especially with laser guided rockets and unmanned phantom bomber planes. The only interaction we ever had with the "enemy" in the 101st airborne was kicking through the corpses in some demolished building or when we would hand out chewing tobacco to the local sand kids. God, we would act as if it was candy and those fucking kids would gulp it down, handfuls of the stuff, and we would laugh and laugh as they puked their guts out. To be honest, war was pretty boring. But then again, so was raleigh.
I lived with my mom and five brothers, in a crumbling plantation house, the fields of farmland surrounding it long lost to weeds and weevils. I came home to find everything as it had been, my brothers jobless, growing pot, impregnating local chicks, sucking at the teet of government assistance. My mother had lost the battle with alcoholism years before, regulated to days upon days of finishing off 12 packs of natty ice and pissing the couch. I slept off my jetlag for two weeks in the basement bedroom and masturbated to the thought of escaping, leaving the tepid town. I was so predictable. I used my check from the army to buy a shitty computer, signed up for the internet, and lost myself in cyberspace.
One night between looking up articles on homemade pipe bombs and stroking it to lezzie porn i came across the world of warcraft, i downloaded the free trial offer, and my life changed.
My escape came electronically. I could be a fierce warrior, a magician, a hero.
Days and nights melted into one another, i rarely even turned my lights on, acne infested my face, i could not stop. I bought a headset so i could communicate with my fellow adventurers, and i met her.
I was tits deep in a quest to retrieve the crystal goblet of andorra when an angel's voice rang through my headset. I couldn't help myself, i had to know her real name. Jess.
Over the next couple of weeks we spent every moment together, finishing quests, laughing, getting to know each other, tinny conversations ringing in my ears even as i slept. Eventually i got her phone number and rang up a 900 dollar bill. I was in love.
Jess came to raleigh to live with me for two months. When i first saw her, at the bus station, i knew i would marry her. She looked as if the world had already had its way with her, the lines in her face acted as a legend mapping out her life, her hips told of years of inactivity and ice cream. It took me exactly two weeks to knock her up.
Jess decided it was a good idea to move back to her mother's house in washinton burrough, pennsylvania to have the baby, i could find work there, in my trade, as a mechanic, and we could raise our child. I was taken aback by her newly formed southern accent, her authority over me, my compliane to her ridiculous demands, but i went along. In the name of sidestepping my fate in raleigh, i lost myself in her, and i followed her to the north, to a new existence, as a father, provider, follower. I have never been a smart guy, but i should have known better.
The dust settled, and the walls of the trailer shook in relief. I stood and walked up the newly slanted living room to the broken screen door and made my way outside. Ronny, jess' mother's boyfriend, who lived with us, stumbled from his grand marquis, now neatly wedged beneath the southern corner of the trailer. I surveyed the damage.
"jesus christ, ronny, you done knocked the fuckin trailer clean off the cinder blocks!"
Ronny looked up at me, bloodshot eyes glistening. He looked back at his car.
"damnit, skeeter, i thought i told you to take that fucking car to the garage, damn brakes are wore wafer thin!"
i stood and stared at him. By now, jess and her mother stood in the doorway, i could feel their collective gaze.
"what? Ronny, goddamnit, you never told me such. Listen, get inside, you look like a wet polecat. We don't need the law here again."
He slapped my back as he strode unsteadily past me.
"listen, tomorrow we'll take the car into the shop after court. You got a couple bucks? i'm going over to bill's place for a little late night pick me up."
i fished in my pocket and handed him a wad of crumpled ones, the remainder of my army money. He stumbled up the driveway, singing skynrd, and i pushed past jess and her skeletal mother, went down the dark hallway, stepped over the mound of dirty laundry in front of my bed, and collapsed onto my futon. Sleep came easy.
The next morning i awoke to the sound of tires squealing once again, and the trailer shook once more. I stood and scratched at my crotch, the house was quiet. I strolled into the living room to find no one home, so i fixed myself a drink, sat at the computer, and begun another quest.
After two hours or so my phone chirped, vibrated off of the coffee table, i let it ring. It rang again, then again, and after the fifth time i got up and answered it.
"hello?"
"yes, is this jason bolland?"
"uh, yeah, who is this?"
" yes, hello, this is sergeant billings with the hempfield police. Do you know a ronald haskins?"
i swallowed, hard.
"yeah, he's my wife's mother's boyfriend. What did he do?"
"well, mr. Haskins asked me to call you. Uh, there is no easy way to say this. Mr. Haskins was pulled over about an hour ago on route thirty for speeding. He was doing in excess of 110 miles per hour. Upon further inspection we discovered mr. Haskins was quite intoxicated, as well as in possesion of a sizable amount of powder cocaine. He, uh, he could not make this call so i felt obliged to make it for him. He told me to relay the following message. Hold on a sec, let me get my notepad. Ahem. 'Skeeter, kevin down the block owes me a favor. Get him to take you to whatever police station i am being held in and bail me out. Don't tell jess or her mom.' Now, you need 10% of the bail, around 200 dollars, and we are at the hempfield police station, do you know where that is?"
I rubbed my forehead.
"yeah."
"do you mind if i ask you a question?"
I took a long pull from my superman cup.
"yeah, shoot."
"if you don't mind me asking, where was mr. Haskins off to in such a hurry on a tuesday morning?"
I sighed.
"he had a court date this morning, something about his suspended license."
The cop laughed.
"well, he won't have to worry about that now, will he?"
I kicked at a pair of dirty underwear in the middle of the slanted living room.
"no, no, i guess not. Listen, i should be there within an hour. Thank you for the call, officer."
click.
I pulled on a pair of filthy jeans and walked down the street to gather up kevin.
In kevin's rusty blazer on the way to the hempfield police station, my phone began chirping again. I picked up.
"private bolland?"
i sat up in my seat, at attention.
"Speaking."
"bolland, this is commander mcnulty, 5th division, 101st airborne. Son, i have some bad news."
"no surprises there."
"pardon me?"
"nothing, sir, what is it?"
"private bolland, it seems you are being called back to duty. Normally i would have just mailed you a letter, but as i was looking over your records i saw you have recently been married and are expecting a child. My heart goes out to you and your family, but you are needed, by your country. I will need you to report to fort rawlings in virginia by next monday."
i sat for a moment, listened to the engine, watched the lush trees fly by, held my breath.
"private bolland?"
I snapped to attention.
"uh, i understand, sir, i do. I am proud to serve my country. I will see you next week."
"good man, good man. See you then, soldier."
I flipped the phone shut and looked at kevin, who seemed to not even know i was there.
Escape, it's a funny thing.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
t shirt designs
my lovely girlfriend got me a gift certificate from neighborhoodies and i am trying to find an appropriate image to put on said hoodie.
Monday, May 12, 2008
closer...
list of things to finish...1.detail the hands.
2.finish the rose in her hand.
3.not crazy about the font and background color.
4.maybe add some kind of border.
suggestions are welcome.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
some shit i did today.
helping a buddy with some logos.
poor butters.
first draft of a project for school. tv network logo for bad kids like my nephew.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
a call for help rings out
i am struggling hardcore with the colors on this one.i need this fucker to stand out on a white background AND be readable at 4 inches.
i make the light colors too light, and they disappear.
i make them too dark and it looks dumb.
will one of the three people who actually look at my blog chime in?
Monday, May 5, 2008
something different
i have to develop a logo for a fake restaurant in my graphic symbolism class.
this, of course, is inspired by the master late 19th century french illustrator alphonse mucha.
i really wanted to switch up my style and try something pretty, which i believe this eventually shall be.
gonna take me some time, but i'm happy with it so far.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
while you wait for the others
go here...
http://www.imeem.com/pitchforkmedia/music/-VI5Bgr4/grizzly_bear_while_you_wait_for_the_others/?d=1
...and listen to the new grizzly bear song.
i didn't like these guys that much when i saw them open for tv on the radio, but since then their album Yellow House is on my constant rotation.
they performed this song on conan a few weeks ago, and it was great.
thought i'd share.
http://www.imeem.com/pitchforkmedia/music/-VI5Bgr4/grizzly_bear_while_you_wait_for_the_others/?d=1
...and listen to the new grizzly bear song.
i didn't like these guys that much when i saw them open for tv on the radio, but since then their album Yellow House is on my constant rotation.
they performed this song on conan a few weeks ago, and it was great.
thought i'd share.
Friday, May 2, 2008
photoshoppery
had an argument over the beatles with a guy at school, so i made him this.i love photoshop.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
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