Inky Disaster

Zoot alors and quel domage. Je suis out of le bullets.

Je ne parle pas le francais.

For Illustracion Vendredi. I had to look up Friday in French. The word is totally unfamiliar to me, and I took two years of the language.

Never got around to the wheel, but had an awesome calendar.

I suspect the Mayans were wrong about 2012 predictions, though.

I hope I get to hear howler monkeys from this part of the world again.

Inkyd from a photo by Edward Curtis.

I vaguely recall reading a book about the hypothesis that the India Indians were in fact actually related in a linear fashion to the American Indian, specifically the Navajo. Something about similarities between the Navajo religion and Buddhism. I don’t know how true this is (but could guess), but I like the notion of cultures diverging for a long time, then eventually getting back together to compare, contrast, and share stories.

From a photograph by Dorothea Lange.

Reminds me of the song:

We worked through Spring and Winter, through Summer and through Fall
But the mortgage worked the hardest and the steadiest of us all
It worked on nights and Sundays, it worked each holiday
Settled down among us and it never went away

The farmer comes to town with his wagon broken down
The farmer is the man who feeds us all
If you only look and see I know you will agree
That the farmer is the man who feeds us all

The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
He buys on his credit until Fall
Then they take him by the hand
And they lead him from his land
And the merchant is the man who gets it all

The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
He lives on his credit until Fall
With the interest rates so high
It’s a wonder he don’t die
But the taxes on the farmer feeds us all

Well, the banker says he’s broke and the merchant stops and smoke
But they forget that it’s the farmer that feeds them all
It would put them to the test if the farmer took a rest
And they’d know that it’s the farmer that feeds them all

The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
Lives on his credit until Fall
Well, his pants are wearing thin
His condition, it’s a sin
‘Cause the taxes on the farmer feeds us all

Point and shoot.

I mean shoot as in with a camera, but if you need to get those pesky endangered species off your logging land, by all means.

This is a logo idea for the wife’s blog, greensborobirds.

Loosely based on a picture by Lewis Hine.

For Illustration Friday.

I’m currently reading about the Whiskey Rebellion. Apparently, life on the frontier in the late 1700′s was rough. (peanut gallery: How rough was it?) It was so rough, eye gouging was an acceptable conflict resolution solution.

This gentleman doesn’t look to me to be of that era; I’m thinking more like foul-ball incident.

First face on my new great desk. Thank you, desk sellers!

Happily doomed to a life in Academia, his students learn nothing. They are distracted by the disarmingly toothy smile.

Pencil and watercolor.

No matter how often they searched his apartment, they could never find anything incriminating. His abode was too cluttered.

For Illustration Friday.