'nother from the left side

So I have been spending a lot of time figuring out flash to get my animated shorts up and running. The above drawing is a preliminary study of one of the characters. The first part in the series will be up and running in the beginning of 2010. In the meantime, enjoy this little snippety of a preview.

From the left handed sketchbok.

The rapid reproductive rate of our rabbits......

.....has given reason for a new show. For the remainder of November at Rabbit Hole Studios, works from the artist at Rabbit Movers will be on display. If you are in the New York/Brooklyn area, come to Dumbo tonight sometime between 5 and 9 for the opening where there will be musical performances and readings.
The exhibition is co curated by marina girch and terence degnan
featuring
jilian brodie
alexandra coveleski
mollie roth
matthew palmer
jack carr
gian d angelo
james yeh
nathan allen
marina girch

Rabbit Hole Studio is located at 33 washington st. in Brooklyn NY (between plymouth and water)

"NYAB Event - "Coniculus: Rabbit Collective Winter" Exhibition

I am very excited to be a part of The New York Underground Comedy Festival in association with SuperEgo in a night full of comedy to benefit GIlda's Club


So, please join us Thursday, October 8, 2009 at 9:00 at the New York Comedy Club
24th between 2nd and 3rd NY


The show will be hosted by Michelle Dobrawsky, and feature a great line-up of comics including:

Sean Donnelly (XM Radio, Little Seany Boy Show)
Francoise Gordon (Caroline's)
Dale Sorenson (Broadway Comedy Club, MTV)
Marissa Heiser
Chris Worley
Marc Maietta
Mollie Roth
Katie Madonna Lee (Women's Prison Movie)
Nathan Efferson
Julie Rosing
Diane O'Debra
and special guests!

There will also be e a raffle at the show with prizes from Gotham Girls Roller Derby, The Rejection Show, Erica Weiner Jewelry, Dynomighty Design, Gingerdead.

The above illustration will also be available as a raffle prize.

Buy Your TIckets Now!

A Day of Traveling.

I sat in the airport at a 6:50 in the a.m. and watched while a middle aged man, his wife, and the man’s mother argued with the women at the gate why they had not been informed that their flight had left with out them. I was amazed at the collective nature with which the airway employee handled the situation. Her name was Julie, they asked, amidst the morning melodrama. I did recall a name associated with a “final call for boarding” while I played on my laptop, Canton-Akron provides the service of Internet free of charge.
“We have been sitting here since 6:30” he shouted while his wife and mother talked over top of him. In a huff, he turned on his heels and paced down terminal. The oldest of the three fanned herself and flustered over the incident, mumbling about a heart condition. The woman at the counter, well you now know her to be Julie, continued to remind them that she had made the announcement multiple times. Clusters of other soon to be passengers nodded among themselves in agreement that Julie had in fact made this broadcast.
Finally a few security guards came and explained them that for a 6:45 flight, it is necessary to be there before 6:30 to board, as they close the gates ten minutes prior to take-off and start the process earlier than what is stated to be departure. The scene went on to an escalated state, but nothing of great interest. Poor Julie I thought.
Anyway, cool thing about leaving CAK at that hour of the morning, I was home at my kitchen table in Brooklyn sipping coffee with my girl by 9:00. I had thought I would need some sort of nap to recharge, but instead I geared up to cycle, for the first time, into Manhattan to meet Amanda in Chelsea for lunch. The initial launch onto the Manhattan Bridge was kinda trying. You access the path by half circled incline and once you hit the bridge you are very aware of how high you are very soon. The fear in me I think made the pedaling more difficult, and once I was over the water I have to say I felt what one might describe as scared. Later I was told that when going over the Brooklyn Bridge if you hit a certain speed the slits in the wood slats makes it seem as if you are floating over the water. I am curious to experience this for myself. Anyway, back to the Manhattan Bridge, I have to admit I stopped about a third of the way over. Um, hydration is not to be neglected. Yeah, that’s it. I really needed to drink water for maximum performance. Actually at that point I totally doubted my capabilities at completing my journey. But then I thought of one of my cousins that I had just visited with in Ohio and how she does these sixty-five mile tours, and I figured what’s five or six, well ten or twelve if you count both ways, but really, I could do this. And I did. Cycled through China town, gotta little turned around (I wrote Houston on the directions instead of Hudson) but eventually made it and made a lunch date of it. On the way back I once again enjoyed the bicycle path along the Hudson and stopped at a shop to get a bike map. They were out of maps, but I left with a new foldable cargo basket for my newly installed back bike rack. It was seven dollars cheaper than what was available at the Brooklyn stores, and I found it quite novel that Manhattan prices where more economical.
There was a lane on street next to the shop and I decided to follow it for a while. I ended up passing through NYU, Tompkins Square Park, and then went down through Alphabet City to the Lower East Side. I was able to pretty easily found my way to the Bridge and headed over into Dumbo where I detoured to Trader Joe’s. The store was a madhouse, so I settled instead on a produce stand to get a few things. I transferred my purchases into my new basket that I temporarily attached with zip-ties I got at Rite-Aid (they had a quick release function that sort negated their anti-theft installation reasoning.) I got home and made an carrot cabbage Asian cole-slaw with toasted sesame seeds that I shredded myself (which I think took less time then the wrap around to the dried fruit and nuts section line at Joe’s.) Which reminds me, I am out of Apricots. Mayber I should have waited instead of grated. I package up my fixings, and tossed in a couple of beers (the cooler that we have miraculously is the same size as the basket.) I once again got on my bike, this time staying local wit a trip to Prospect Park to enjoy the remainder of Labor Day into it’s evening with a group of friends. All in all, it was a lovely holiday. Oh, and I am like 87% sure that I saw Morgan Freeman on the Hudson River path, on rollerblades.

Something Trashy.

When I was in college a few guys I knew would go dumpster diving. They had a few places that they favored, and came back with interesting articles that they incorporated into their sculptures. This sort of pastime was also an obvious connection for a few others that I shared a space with last night. One, during harder times, would forage for food, another, during fast times, found a discarded bag of cocaine in a trash bin near a university in New York. The lights that hung over the lot glistened as we reminisced, standing immersed to our shoulders in the cool clean waters of a secret location somewhere near the Gowanus is Brooklyn, N.Y.
Now, I have never been dumpster diving in any fashion, and to this day I still can’t claim that feat, but I have swum far enough from the city lights to see the stars, yet close enough to my apartment to bike back home to get dry clothes after I swam in, of all things, a dumpster (the depth, as I said, was just above shoulder height, hence the no actually diving and all.) Now the location of this establishment is pretty much a secret, The Times did an article, so people know it exists, but unless you are really good at location determination based on structural suggestions from article photos, or you had the privilege of an invite, chances are you would walk by and never know it was there. I did, almost twice a week for the last few months I walked right by without ever knowing it was there. That’s kind of the point of it, in some respect, to avoid overcrowding and maintain the hangout in the backyard kind of feel. At least that’s what I gleaned. Amanda and I entered through a gate earlier in the afternoon and cycled passed a couple of old cars that competed for their spot in the lot with a patch of unruly greenery, as well as some stored RV’s, and construction equipment. We leaned our bikes against a forklift, and felt no need to use the lock. Most of the other attendees were expected to arrive later in the afternoon verging on evening, so we lavishly enjoyed the bocce ball with a few other friends, and swam in one of three conversions as one by the rest of the amazing guests filtered in.
The pools, as I said, are made out of dumpsters. Dumpsters, I tell yeah. Gently used, at that. The forklift that provided support to our bicycles, I found out later, was instrumental in the arranging of the three vessels. Two of taller bins were positioned parallel to each other, and a shorter “kiddie pool” ran through the center, h-ing out the design that was surrounded by a painted deck. Each tank had standard ladders installed, and an efficient filtration system. The interior of dumpsters themselves had been smoothed, the floor lined with sand, some with sand bags (which provided seating in the shallow pool) and walls were lined with a double tarp system which sealed the water, nearly 20,000 gallons between the three, from spilling into the canal nearby. I swam in two shifts, night and day, taking a few breaks to lounge in the chairs, make some new friends with the toss of the polina, or watch the fire breather spew flames just as the owner of the lot strolled in. My, “you’re gonna be in trouble” nature flared up a bit, but was quickly snuffed as I saw the man watch the flames light up the night sky and then walk over and shake the coordinator of the evening’s hand. It was one of those happenings that you just happened upon when you live in a place like this (if you just happen to be extremely freaking lucky.) And I was one of many through the day and night who stopped for a moment to a look around, and acknowledged with a smile at that they fact that they were actually there. Swimming in dumpster.