tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86391099830496443822024-02-15T01:44:50.323-08:00Ravings of a Mad CreatorGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-65646656597184162512013-07-26T18:38:00.000-07:002013-08-02T12:01:44.525-07:00COMIC CON 2013 RECAP<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBUTVaZ3tkx1RZ6O2l1xSJpZgOV8jOL7mxJ-IGf18meazWdmuLepTkHLhVyOtoP7GK3gacg1rPyouXTfERkE-bFF5-D9GsiIsOkf22I33_fln4pLzBogtuDrJ5ckW7t53jB74_iyOwsPGf/s1600/GG_SDCCBOOTH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBUTVaZ3tkx1RZ6O2l1xSJpZgOV8jOL7mxJ-IGf18meazWdmuLepTkHLhVyOtoP7GK3gacg1rPyouXTfERkE-bFF5-D9GsiIsOkf22I33_fln4pLzBogtuDrJ5ckW7t53jB74_iyOwsPGf/s200/GG_SDCCBOOTH.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
It wasn't real. It was surreal. The floor was hard on the heels. The fluorescent glow of artificial lights cast a hideous shade of chartreuse on the skin. The odor of over 100,000 herded nerds wafted throughout carpeted alleys and crossroads. Convention center coffee was in hand. After a three year hiatus, the MCP was back at San Diego Comic Con. It just didn't seem real.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-pJ135WWyu2DxFBeHV_24EMVIC9Dex-qHFpV0Vfh5jJDUMZUR44B2xwkgGNiYFfY2PMBDnnXJgDAI1p6CzHk62Ga5r7p3n-aNolFIRw5gImXCjG-UeFeYRSKVpPwL7AO7G7TVevl6wxf/s1600/gg.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-pJ135WWyu2DxFBeHV_24EMVIC9Dex-qHFpV0Vfh5jJDUMZUR44B2xwkgGNiYFfY2PMBDnnXJgDAI1p6CzHk62Ga5r7p3n-aNolFIRw5gImXCjG-UeFeYRSKVpPwL7AO7G7TVevl6wxf/s320/gg.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a>Many things have changed since the last time I had a booth in 2009. I've changed. My views of the world, myself and man's purpose couldn't be more contradicting from that of years gone by. I strive to always be true to myself. I've reconnected with my small town farming roots which I have been trying so hard to disassociate from since I was an adolescent. I've developed a kinship with my father and find more and more similarities with him every day. I've come to a conclusion why I've accomplished the things I have and recognize an ongoing warfare that I have unwillingly been engaged in. Unbridled vision lets no delusions cloud my sight. We live in very bleak times and I'm still as macabre as I've always been. My dark sense of humor allows me to translate this abomination with whimsy. This is still my esthetic and, I think, always will be. But the changes I've gone through will reflect an evolution in my current and future work. This we will all see in the things to come.<br />
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This was a new Gris Grimly attending SDCC this year. I am a working man and always have been. I grew up bailing straw, cleaning out hog sheds and tilling the earth to make a buck. I'm still that peasant, but with an uncanny imagination and the ability to transfer these thoughts into formats that allow other people to enjoy them, rather than keeping them confined within my own brain.<br />
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I knew that coming back to SDCC this year meant setting up a booth and managing it. I decided if I'm going to be in a booth for twelve hours a day, I want to be comfortable. My brilliant wife came up with the idea to bring my home to the convention (or at least a portion of it). That is what we did. I brought in my art desk, wall papered walls, book shelves, wooden furniture and area rugs. I even brought my record player and a collection of 50s/60s rock n roll records so I could play the music I wanted to hear. If anyone needed to find me, they could do so at the MCP booth. I no longer wanted to bare the stigma of being unobtainable. My attitude was "This is me. This is my place. These are my friends. Come hang out with us."<br />
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And that is what happened...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMkLEj3dJcDtMkdJJOG0PaFdKK9_c1dtdyEZLRWpQt8IuWIaiO9UHP1NuH2-X9VEBimOFW9kRMd-eSeyS-Ou5Tq3uKNwim_UzDCSnVdHXd8DrHRounVLaHqA-B_gAkpzdjmbDvMkE9sYq5/s1600/IMG_3013.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMkLEj3dJcDtMkdJJOG0PaFdKK9_c1dtdyEZLRWpQt8IuWIaiO9UHP1NuH2-X9VEBimOFW9kRMd-eSeyS-Ou5Tq3uKNwim_UzDCSnVdHXd8DrHRounVLaHqA-B_gAkpzdjmbDvMkE9sYq5/s320/IMG_3013.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.madcreator.com/store/index.cfm?fuseaction=page.display&page_id=6" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfc00rfOQCI-dhnYYBBSvKri0eiY2d4Rww078VT5PBfpGQ7Ord1RGWu1C_fZtbWvLmTU28wfEJ4b7trMid7gyxYyvs7dbdfeSX887-2GEveCvI8SIpugRI6-69x-Kvwm-YW5u7kq0Ev7zt/s200/9780061862977_p0_v2_s260x420.JPG" height="200" width="130" /></a>This year's new book was Frankenstein. A book in which I only had 200 advance copies because it's street date isn't until August 27th (the book is available for purchase here: <a href="http://www.madcreator.com/store/" target="_blank">the MCP store</a> ). I am happy to announce that we sold out by early Friday. Every year we have a pre-release book, but this was the first year we sold out before the weekend even started. Thanks to all of you who came by and snatched up a copy. We also had Frankenstein shirts and buttons along with Society of Grave Robber shirts, Circus Punks, Pinocchio sculptures, previously released classics, belt buckles, prints, original artwork...and a whole lot more. In functionality, we still had the MCP store to offer, but it was packaged with comfort and soul.<br />
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On Friday I was a participant on the panel "Drawing Stories". The panel was about what's new in today's YA Graphic Novels. Everyone else on the panel clearly creates "Young Adult" graphic novels. To be part of the "Young Adult" market, you need to have a young adult as the protagonist in your story. Whereas I create picture books (some of which are a hybrid with graphic novels) where most of the protagonists appear to be just beyond young adult. Even the term young adult is very debatable. Couldn't a young adult encompass the 20-30 year old bracket? I feel that Victor Frankenstein could be considered as a young adult. But it appears that young adult in the publishing market refers to the adolescent population. When I was a kid, that was called teenagers.<br />
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The greatest part about being on this panel was to share a mic with Paul Pope. I'm a fan of his work and have been reading his books for almost twenty years now starting with THB when I was in college. Our encounter was brief, but it appeared we share a mutual respect for each other. All in all, I was in good company on stage with a line up of extremely talented artists and writers. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPAWQ7j1vfwQZvelTBjIeC4ZWdAHsVhEFEGLY347MfF72xT3OSOI3euG3FpiVNmstp-IrHGlV_5ZpOlbs1CTjfyQRCwvE9FbOX-NuXJznygPpV2GakUPbcbomzwOOTvLAZOFebKMXm8oub/s1600/IMG_3098.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPAWQ7j1vfwQZvelTBjIeC4ZWdAHsVhEFEGLY347MfF72xT3OSOI3euG3FpiVNmstp-IrHGlV_5ZpOlbs1CTjfyQRCwvE9FbOX-NuXJznygPpV2GakUPbcbomzwOOTvLAZOFebKMXm8oub/s200/IMG_3098.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>One of the most unique requests I've received to date is to sign a jar of moonshine. As the individual pulled out the mason jar of pellucid toxin, one thing came to mind; Our moon running forefather Popcorn Sutton. So I wrote around the top of the jar "LONG LIVE POPCORN SUTTON" and sketched a caricature of the hillbilly himself. The individual was surprised I knew who Popcorn was. The next day, he came back and gave me a jar of moonshine. Dangerous times are on the horizon.<br />
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The five days were hard on us and by Sunday we were all ready to crash. Or maybe some of us just stayed out too late at nights. Regardless, to recap the week...we all had a great time. I think I can speak for the entire MCP Crew when I say that we enjoyed spending time with everyone who stopped by the booth. This is how a family is created. You don't have to be bound by blood. You just need to have common interests, a gathering and memories.<br />
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Here's to a great San Diego Comic Con 2013. The MCP Crew look forward to seeing you all again soon. If not in between days, next SDCC.</div>
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Until then...Be Grim! </div>
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Gris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-11267160674817531172012-06-07T02:16:00.002-07:002012-06-07T03:07:53.938-07:00Becoming a DeviantDeviant Art has been around for twelve years now and I've known about it for some time. But it wasn't until a couple weeks ago that I finally dug my grave and became a member. If you are not familiar with deviant art, it is an online social network focused on art. As of 2010 it gained 14.5 million members and has expanded far beyond that number by now.<br />
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I'm not much of a tech guy. I am very much a geek when it comes to horror movies and vinyl records. But a nerd of evolutionary gadgets I am not. I resisted getting a cell phone for years and have only acquired an Iphone two and a half years ago. The last video game I played was Tetris. Even when the first Resident Evil came out in the mid 90s, I hung up my joystick and decided it was time to become an observer. My computers are never up to speed and that is fine. As long as my turntable's motor isn't burned out and I can still spin vinyl, I'm a happy fiend.<br />
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Social Networks are no different. I avoided myspace and only decided to join a few years before it wasted away to the ghost town it is today. Same with Facebook. Same with Twitter. So why should it be any different with Deviant Art. I didn't quite understand the need or desire to be on the network. I had friends that were artists and I could communicate with them through email or other social networks. Most of them were not even on deviant art.<br />
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Then I met Ron Martino, producer and director at Deviant Art Network, at the San Diego Comic Con 2011. He spent some time explaining to me the community of artists that live on this network and how many of them are active around the world at one time. It is very impressive. But still, I didn't join for almost another year.<br />
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What did it was my frustrations with other networks like twitter and facebook. I am an artist. I wake up as an artist, I live as an artist and I make money as an artist. Whether I am writing little fairy tales, illustrating monsters, painting nightmares or trapping moving pictures on digital cameras I live to create art. So I would become very frustrated when I posted artwork on my networks and did not get the response that I was looking for. I could jot down some nonsense (in 140 characters or less) on twitter about my twinky having diarrhea and retweets explode. But a post about a signing or an art piece gets the occasional chirp.<br />
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THAT'S TWITTER. I get it. I've learned to play the game. I find myself contriving the most facetious crap that sometimes, and usually, warms my face with embarrassment just to say such mindless babble because that's what people want. I've discovered Facebook isn't much different. I get a good response when I post an illustration or painting. But really, people on Facebook are looking for drama. They want to hear you bitch about your day or complain about this or that. Everybody is a fan of misery as long as it's someone else.<br />
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Deviant Art is nothing like that. Deviant Art is a community of artists (whether they are amateurs, hobbyists or professionals) who are on there to share and experience art. It's not about what you had for lunch. It's not sharing that instagram photo of the drunk passed out at Denny's at 2am. It's not about posting your passive aggressive attacks on "you know who".<br />
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Twitter and Facebook have their place. I'm not saying anything against people who use them, because I use them and I enjoy them for what they are. But there is no other community for the artist like Deviant Art. Join, visit my page and partake in the largest growing online art community worldwide.<br />
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<a href="http://grisgrimly.deviantart.com/" target="_blank">GRIS GRIMLY ON DEVIANT ART</a>Gris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-52221577371657425772012-03-19T12:42:00.003-07:002012-03-19T13:33:19.589-07:00Grimlify This...Over the past few months, I started hosting competitions on my networks to create a more interactive presence for fans, fiends and followers. Most of the competitions involved name drawings for MCP store customers and challenges that introduced new fiends to my work. In February, I hosted a competition that required fiends to complete and submit a Valentine's day poem. The winner had their poem illustrated and released as a virtual card.<br /><br />This month I started a competition that would be just as thrilling for me as those involved. The competition is called "Grimlify This..." and it went like this: Every follower on Facebook could submit an idea. In this case, it was an animated cartoon character. They had one week to chose one and post it on my facebook. I then went through the submissions and chose five of those characters to illustrate in my style. The reasoning for the five that were picked had to do with many factors. I wanted something that would challenge me. Therefore I didn't pick characters that are too similar to my style already. That would eliminate characters like The Addams Family, Beetlejuice, Monster Cereals...etc. I didn't pick characters that were too vague and had no distinguishing characteristics. Heckle and Jeckle are great characters. but once Grimlified, they would just look like my crows. I didn't pick characters that were too obscure. Part of the fun of this project is that people will look at the character and immediately relate to it because they are familiar with them.<br /><br />With that said, these are the 5 characters that I picked and Grimlified...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">RAINBOW BRITE<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCF9DLutyGlHvzSHmBtjO1pDiSvR6-aLbac8js5Hh18WKC2Mr2SHpcex8J9HR9I0jXTL0jmLsUcwmC_Jql8bpH1QhFoSgMoF81Lr4nfLXWyeQiasxQRn6moEPw3aekPnEwNJmGT79F3GD/s1600/rainbowbrite.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCF9DLutyGlHvzSHmBtjO1pDiSvR6-aLbac8js5Hh18WKC2Mr2SHpcex8J9HR9I0jXTL0jmLsUcwmC_Jql8bpH1QhFoSgMoF81Lr4nfLXWyeQiasxQRn6moEPw3aekPnEwNJmGT79F3GD/s400/rainbowbrite.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721707085950902610" border="0" /></a>THE MAD HATTER<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIGdmsb17zNKTD1my6-VEOwdqYTSS6nS_PjB6lKrA22F9wJwFDMViZVnukfHoHCRK851AGNLRwMdnpya4bvOTUZuO-JMXN-oe0viplAIZXFIrIN8oW1em4QQyzcf0eb0Kqd1poR2chkvQ/s1600/madhatter.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIGdmsb17zNKTD1my6-VEOwdqYTSS6nS_PjB6lKrA22F9wJwFDMViZVnukfHoHCRK851AGNLRwMdnpya4bvOTUZuO-JMXN-oe0viplAIZXFIrIN8oW1em4QQyzcf0eb0Kqd1poR2chkvQ/s400/madhatter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721707092864657186" border="0" /></a>POPEYE<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizPuQExC1qePZcFduRZwXSHxqyBLDIJy080vIvJfy58HyYeIj989fK9Sgj6CPlcyKDkaGUpQX74GjjZImTyOo-uCTrjfSLEb4GoV3AHI43FvG2qO1L69x93lBXUmxRXZTDQlS1STKh5w3E/s1600/popeye.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 207px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizPuQExC1qePZcFduRZwXSHxqyBLDIJy080vIvJfy58HyYeIj989fK9Sgj6CPlcyKDkaGUpQX74GjjZImTyOo-uCTrjfSLEb4GoV3AHI43FvG2qO1L69x93lBXUmxRXZTDQlS1STKh5w3E/s400/popeye.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721707095134414434" border="0" /></a>FRED FLINTSTONE<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzYbDBHOtiQd94flMqZTCAMMkQ9i9DVdj9rsreoL9oPKyWfvYXdl1WcH6ALmbvZ48zccil3rgy3MRSxgssWFZVeaeaWeWRljN5GOq53iPkmqy9b_k2OUQ3oPOYmInxx3-qYdkbdHJrzdu/s1600/fredflintstone.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 217px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzYbDBHOtiQd94flMqZTCAMMkQ9i9DVdj9rsreoL9oPKyWfvYXdl1WcH6ALmbvZ48zccil3rgy3MRSxgssWFZVeaeaWeWRljN5GOq53iPkmqy9b_k2OUQ3oPOYmInxx3-qYdkbdHJrzdu/s400/fredflintstone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721707097801843426" border="0" /></a>PURPLE PIE MAN<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aMrLVJRrRXB0oMt9Z2BWjgVCuadiZJ5uhw-q6_FRGjHGPgAJaOn09_mn-Wb804ertF_Qj2DU8aAVsCavx49_9M6Oq9KhpbjxNet7qvhXJIMbysq6v0NDzMqaSomk4ABFjQ-bkI1EVZRD/s1600/purplepieman.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 174px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aMrLVJRrRXB0oMt9Z2BWjgVCuadiZJ5uhw-q6_FRGjHGPgAJaOn09_mn-Wb804ertF_Qj2DU8aAVsCavx49_9M6Oq9KhpbjxNet7qvhXJIMbysq6v0NDzMqaSomk4ABFjQ-bkI1EVZRD/s400/purplepieman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721707091568861602" border="0" /></a>Once the characters were completed and posted, it is up to the fiends. The image with the most likes at the end of the month determines the winner of the grand prize. I can't control this from becoming a popularity contest. Some likes will be based on helping their friend win the prize. But I hope most people will vote on the illustration that they like the best.<br /></div></div><br />I really enjoyed this competition and look forward for more to come. The options are endless. Grimlify...superheros, pop stars, Disney, Hanna Barbara, breakfast cereals, fruits...etc.<br /><br />I'm looking forward to it.<br /><br />Go here to vote before April 1st 2012: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Gris-Grimly/56134890961">Gris Grimly Facebook</a><br /><br />Join the Society of Grave Robbers Facebook to be notified on the next competition:<br /><a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Gris-Grimlys-Society-of-Grave-Robbers/289385327747401">SOGR Facebook</a><br /><br />Be Grim!<br />Gris GrimlyGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-36637656235254679672011-12-24T12:52:00.001-08:002011-12-24T14:54:58.768-08:00Conversations with CritterA few days ago, I pulled up to a gas station to fill up the MCP mobile. I've taught myself to use cash for most transactions these days. It's a little way to get out from the control of capitalism and corporate banks. The problem with using cash transactions in this ever evolving cyborg world is that you need to have an interaction with a human to do so. I question the direction we are heading as a society and more specifically in America. We are replacing tellers and cashiers with self checkout computers. This diminishes the demand for employees and we wonder why unemployment is on the rise in America.<br /><br />I approached the quiosque. As luck would have it, the "CLOSED: BE BACK IN 15 MINUTES" sign was up. I'm a patient guy, so I decided to wait. I peered inside to discover a clerk counting cigarette packs. This can't take too long. I watched as people came and went, swiping plastic through greedy machines. I questioned what information is on those cards and how much of that information is being channeled to a database. Everything we buy, everywhere we go as well as our personal data is transmitted through that little piece of plastic.<br /><br />Shortly, I noticed a homeless man approaching the quiosque. He offered me a drag off his smoke as he drew near. I refused. I gave up the cancer sticks almost two years now and don't need to relapse. As he approached the glass doors, I told him it's closed. He was wearing a trucker cap and his bearded jaw flapped loosely from it's hinges. He peered inside and made some half insane crack about the two attendants involving homosexual activity. I laughed and made some comment back which was probably not nearly as humorous. He decided to wait with me. As people approached and left as quickly as they read the sign, I realized that I am a rare breed and obviously have a schedule so incredibly dull that it pairs nicely with that of the homeless. Maybe it's not that my life isn't hectic, but that I can stop and smell the roses now and then. Even if it's the smell of stale cigarettes and hooch.<br /><br />The homeless man turned to me and asked how my holidays were going. It was at this point that I noticed a "Y" shaped incision running vertically down his throat and up to his ear, held together with staples. I told him it was going alright and I couldn't complaint. "How about you?"<br /><br />He sucked his bottom jaw halfway down his throat which sort of resembled a grin and responded with mediocre favor. After a pause he said, "Except for this" and pointed out the gnarly wound in case I missed it.<br /><br />I responded with "Yeah. What happened there?"<br /><br />He told me that he was asleep Monday night when a man off his meds came up and knifed him. Luckily a patrol car was there. The assailant was arrested for attempted murder and the victim received medical treatment.<br /><br />"But I don't hate him"<br /><br />What? This was hard to buy. Some guy took I shank to his throat and he had no animosity towards him?<br /><br />"He didn't hate me. He didn't want to kill me. He just ran out of his meds. "<br /><br />I was amazed at his unconditional humanity and love for another being. I see people hate other people all the time for simple things like getting cut off on the freeway. He then explained to me that the only reason he survived was because the man did it wrong. The incision should have ran horizontally.<br /><br />I'm pretty blunt and say what's on my mind. Sometimes that gets me into trouble. I asked him if he wished he had died. He didn't really have a straight answer. But to sum up his Ghandi diatribe, he doesn't want to die but he doesn't want to live this life. Rather, he's ready to move onto the next life. He wont kill himself. "I'm not a coward" he explained. He just wishes someone would come and put a bullet in his head and do him off right.<br /><br />I told him maybe it wasn't his time to go yet. This baffled the bum. He's been told this many times, but he doesn't know what his purpose is. He's had the cars, the house, the career. He doesn't want any of that. The system doesn't work for us. You can either fight to survive by being a part of it. Or you can fight to survive as an individual. He clarified that he would rather survive on the streets then look like a fool. I liked this guy.<br /><br />It became apparent after a half hour chat, that the gas station wasn't going to open any time soon. I asked him what his name was. He said Critter and I shook his hand. He headed on his journey of freedom. Halfway across the parking lot, he looked back at me and waved his hand flashing the Hawaiian "Shaka" symbol. In Hawaii it is the call of the Aloha Spirit, a gesture of friendship and understanding between various ethnic cultures. In surfer language, it means "Everything's cool".<br /><br />I really liked Critter. I'm not sure why the gas station was closed and the two of us got a chance to meet. But I can't help thinking of him this holiday as a constant reminder of what's important in life.Gris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-8397237427087012352011-11-08T11:54:00.001-08:002011-11-09T10:28:17.232-08:00THE TROUBLE WITH FEMALESI'm a HUGE John Waters fan and have an appreciation for his trashy films. So when I was asked to be a part of a group show centered around Waters drag queen muse, Divine, there was no hesitation in my acceptance.<br /><br />My favorite Waters films are his earliest films: Pink Flamingos, Desperate Living, Polyester and Female Trouble. Although I really enjoy A Dirty Shame as a comeback and my guilty pleasure is Cry Baby. Instantly, I knew the theme of my painting was going to be Female Trouble. It is a story about the life of an ungrateful degenerate woman, from her delinquent youth, to her maladjusted family and her fame obsessed downward spiral.<br /><br />So I began by slopping on paint.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1QM0fqx24b8rffUPy-sPuk5xvUXSuHYdbYJm1vPoCzyDHwnqJrqUUtkBg9KL2Sr4btADvMUqYHZ4-AtkB2RiJfqqfvWFq9DKqrhBFxS70ikljxHBRtx2xMZHbfdalBmakqjTK70-SnMn/s1600/IMG_1434.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1QM0fqx24b8rffUPy-sPuk5xvUXSuHYdbYJm1vPoCzyDHwnqJrqUUtkBg9KL2Sr4btADvMUqYHZ4-AtkB2RiJfqqfvWFq9DKqrhBFxS70ikljxHBRtx2xMZHbfdalBmakqjTK70-SnMn/s400/IMG_1434.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672716484214768162" border="0" /></a>In the film Female Trouble, Divine wears a pretty iconic outfit that is made of purple leopard print material. I thought that would be a good background. As the paint drips, I found my image materializing in the acrylic mess.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILEpK5ksoR_3-u27il5SNR15fGgKdfFvjRsO-l5F5-FBOfGe2B69w_64XvBht0T-qYfJfLUWSDstY2XqCEsI2FTvL7165viUL5q4j_l8gd-OWfIT5SF-GVsjtzNt3vjdeVx6AU0siHoiL/s1600/IMG_1435.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILEpK5ksoR_3-u27il5SNR15fGgKdfFvjRsO-l5F5-FBOfGe2B69w_64XvBht0T-qYfJfLUWSDstY2XqCEsI2FTvL7165viUL5q4j_l8gd-OWfIT5SF-GVsjtzNt3vjdeVx6AU0siHoiL/s400/IMG_1435.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672716491553152402" border="0" /></a>The painting is pretty much a montage of imagery from the film and a personal commentary that I added to the piece. The central attention is focused on a full body representation of Divine's character, Dawn Davenport, during the height of her self-obsessed fame and a three-quarters view of her head during her demise on death row.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrG5EuAH9s-QIuv_lj-LxRLS89tAKN2udK3HjrwcmIP__p-4Cz0Jlv1_HpGh23AL3AXLk419NSpqHZBNGPUs6yUYqrTBK_y6x6Ax6MaFcbafuboJQ7CX1nJIymw4zDk8lPcNQhQRWevB67/s1600/IMG_1491.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrG5EuAH9s-QIuv_lj-LxRLS89tAKN2udK3HjrwcmIP__p-4Cz0Jlv1_HpGh23AL3AXLk419NSpqHZBNGPUs6yUYqrTBK_y6x6Ax6MaFcbafuboJQ7CX1nJIymw4zDk8lPcNQhQRWevB67/s400/IMG_1491.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672716506791098642" border="0" /></a>In the painting above, you will notice a slight difference in the three-quarter view portrait and the one in the previous image. I had actually finished up the portrait and was so unhappy with the outcome, that I took an electric sander to it and started over. <span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span>This version accomplishes the image I had in my head, whereas the other was slightly off. Sometimes you can't quite put your finger on it, but it just doesn't work.<br /><br />Bloody babies were added floating in space.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_0OyAw8fD5sYuCLknwDxtVp_TQ1CkAyPhbclTeqog9bRcqHjWSwBfXLFdTbWt9_F9jk1uE0fHIy16dMbMQA5qA4gKOJUCII5UrHlw9Q7p2u4ELpL8sLKrb1tybrNOiIURR_32MwthdKD/s1600/IMG_1643.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_0OyAw8fD5sYuCLknwDxtVp_TQ1CkAyPhbclTeqog9bRcqHjWSwBfXLFdTbWt9_F9jk1uE0fHIy16dMbMQA5qA4gKOJUCII5UrHlw9Q7p2u4ELpL8sLKrb1tybrNOiIURR_32MwthdKD/s400/IMG_1643.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672717585312580194" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGuDe3xv6NCCl-BG9V9aaZAvDT779DSi1h_ZRtYMhuJ3Qk8lycsINEtt0ManNSiOPVtPCyxfzgoZY3xg3pRUv04Wi_TcpV7vQxWVFCPFnMZ1ddFp_NoJE-NwDUn5m86OqIsKXDlmdav4F/s1600/syn_female_2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 204px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGuDe3xv6NCCl-BG9V9aaZAvDT779DSi1h_ZRtYMhuJ3Qk8lycsINEtt0ManNSiOPVtPCyxfzgoZY3xg3pRUv04Wi_TcpV7vQxWVFCPFnMZ1ddFp_NoJE-NwDUn5m86OqIsKXDlmdav4F/s400/syn_female_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672721827205353202" border="0" /></a>An unforgettable moment in the film is when Dawn gives birth to her baby on a filthy couch. In a bloody mess, she bites through the umbilical chord. Most woman are obsessed with babies and when they have babies on the brain, logic goes out the window.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_lnXF0up0mTHtgCeIZlxh4aRXINkyMSSrmamgpRmC2uA3pTqFgve6wZ1qZZnIotoLSlYHgpuE4lE1LleW8MKPPHyh2GhCvJbE9L_-2UGIW4SI7Z_BnyDUcuZ-S_PMKJ63pkC6XVHYYH8/s1600/IMG_1639.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_lnXF0up0mTHtgCeIZlxh4aRXINkyMSSrmamgpRmC2uA3pTqFgve6wZ1qZZnIotoLSlYHgpuE4lE1LleW8MKPPHyh2GhCvJbE9L_-2UGIW4SI7Z_BnyDUcuZ-S_PMKJ63pkC6XVHYYH8/s400/IMG_1639.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672717546197082770" border="0" /></a>I'm not a street artist. Other than some delinquent graffiti I did as a kid, I've never used spray paint as an artistic medium. Visually, I thought it would look good to have Dawn's prison number from the film stenciled on the board.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGMKn0RBP_jfE3PEc6_c1jQCDFa3HGSJxIOfrvA3lEQHSv_mL6_mJacRHSbeBLMFzyF1u_hP-tiwRrZKsKLaqEypPoUGDbFCR2zu5p7CU1fUjNs3gNLiNhRrKbotQuP7RIXEv1pKQxPw6j/s1600/IMG_1650.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGMKn0RBP_jfE3PEc6_c1jQCDFa3HGSJxIOfrvA3lEQHSv_mL6_mJacRHSbeBLMFzyF1u_hP-tiwRrZKsKLaqEypPoUGDbFCR2zu5p7CU1fUjNs3gNLiNhRrKbotQuP7RIXEv1pKQxPw6j/s400/IMG_1650.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672718358560705554" border="0" /></a>Sometimes I choose to do things for a stylistic reasons opposed to remaining faithful to perception. This portrait of Dawn is one of those times.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKLd5afMlgJ_XRCMUsXP7kFXtXCeg7IeqgWdTmWtCe2-gNtEALHOc2X6e14t20Nek-DRWIytA9iSVMHVXPuwkihzEcYkD0Ydub4dwoyMcC6B_TPwQFX3ZBIJzfmFyqrWx2Jq3kiiX5ULhe/s1600/female_trouble.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKLd5afMlgJ_XRCMUsXP7kFXtXCeg7IeqgWdTmWtCe2-gNtEALHOc2X6e14t20Nek-DRWIytA9iSVMHVXPuwkihzEcYkD0Ydub4dwoyMcC6B_TPwQFX3ZBIJzfmFyqrWx2Jq3kiiX5ULhe/s400/female_trouble.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672721822045779618" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ANminUkPFRj_LZVbouCl-Gn7LThrndJHMepvCT_qumv-tB931YqdzOxl2RtiODdHJy8ES4J2SdhlzJU03IW5v9qscXbzfNbA6DkHv7dmGbabCXP5ZRR9Qfu6ph60hUomdXiTpJtH15QV/s1600/female_trouble_jpg_627x325_crop_upscale_q85.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 207px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ANminUkPFRj_LZVbouCl-Gn7LThrndJHMepvCT_qumv-tB931YqdzOxl2RtiODdHJy8ES4J2SdhlzJU03IW5v9qscXbzfNbA6DkHv7dmGbabCXP5ZRR9Qfu6ph60hUomdXiTpJtH15QV/s400/female_trouble_jpg_627x325_crop_upscale_q85.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672721818793363458" border="0" /></a>When Divine's character is apprehended by the police, she is still in her stark make-up and pre-punk mohawk. She is tried like this, only dressed in prison garb. But when she is electrocuted, Her head is shaved and she is absent of makeup. The image I had in my head was a cross between the two. The grimace and make-up definitely comes from the trial, but the shaved head comes from the execution. What the hell.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMq7IER2dA8GzuPDB5OGzHJXhuLLyvUlr5Ga_quZ2n1c8S3XIXX9dmCPakdk7Dax4BqdWYEeugaS0HoVsLoawU2ekrqyMbLixkl7aOuKpe0WnMs4mSY0nY4JN4ssGvwhousRCVqTqe2SfJ/s1600/IMG_1641.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK3nlWFctdHc6AyMXESgdvDtIkHzFXBYM1teuC4fkUG8YSzpp2sGEDUR8hw5nGeMP9SRoed3n3F2olOeQ6qjo17sZiM4olv1qEm3MZbpuz4WqgtUcQQBxCmpatsEKNKto5_X-uWf-6P51K/s1600/IMG_1652.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK3nlWFctdHc6AyMXESgdvDtIkHzFXBYM1teuC4fkUG8YSzpp2sGEDUR8hw5nGeMP9SRoed3n3F2olOeQ6qjo17sZiM4olv1qEm3MZbpuz4WqgtUcQQBxCmpatsEKNKto5_X-uWf-6P51K/s400/IMG_1652.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672718342889704498" border="0" /></a>I added a mass of dripping black goo to the background. This is not only for esthetic purposes but also to capture addiction and compulsion. Divine's character experiments with a new drug which is liquid eyeliner injected intravenously. This is the source for Dawn's narcissism and vanity.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg14LusxAU0UDV5m-cUPpqDS-92QtuwrFrVa7b67nMHjqtazg-WOVMZOjrxawEJubCaWonjsIDfhyphenhyphenzRwdFZiWu3tWXHRn_Lr6nuT15M-EvEysCNASHyXJc7r1bI6wTcpIEpmX-oQBIeRCwx/s1600/IMG_1649.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg14LusxAU0UDV5m-cUPpqDS-92QtuwrFrVa7b67nMHjqtazg-WOVMZOjrxawEJubCaWonjsIDfhyphenhyphenzRwdFZiWu3tWXHRn_Lr6nuT15M-EvEysCNASHyXJc7r1bI6wTcpIEpmX-oQBIeRCwx/s400/IMG_1649.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672718332506553010" border="0" /></a>During a performance art exhibition, Dawn pulls out a gun and shouts to the audience "Who wants to die for art?" before firing off homicidal bullets. Again, emphasizing a self absorbed attitude, the word "Art" is crossed out and replaced with "Me".<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgckFGmfGTrQPrEYZFHxAYlR7E_HnJp7apzj1DQ553Ao2S77yRqhuNmYw7O8Cf_XeAEvAwh4R08mFgExr7smZR8-o7vX_X56Z4lUmLdv8WgrHE7rVuQ3YH36JOVCN3rD_wiKEYfym5qX-i1/s1600/female_trouble_title.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgckFGmfGTrQPrEYZFHxAYlR7E_HnJp7apzj1DQ553Ao2S77yRqhuNmYw7O8Cf_XeAEvAwh4R08mFgExr7smZR8-o7vX_X56Z4lUmLdv8WgrHE7rVuQ3YH36JOVCN3rD_wiKEYfym5qX-i1/s400/female_trouble_title.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672721818849386482" border="0" /></a>This was done in the same style as the title board for the film. This change being made in lipstick adds a feminist approach to rewriting history.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-DwOFfwVtrofROPraRUDxQEFDqnpaYEIIfX1BaBVHOLuWLAMqChC6EUUt6F4O6jlnIBJqKjLJyDrl6h89-58MXtgCwyaMJboZOMa1ousmcxVPP6uoT3r5lS-clKa_cHb15LLj9b2X5E0Z/s1600/IMG_1647.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-DwOFfwVtrofROPraRUDxQEFDqnpaYEIIfX1BaBVHOLuWLAMqChC6EUUt6F4O6jlnIBJqKjLJyDrl6h89-58MXtgCwyaMJboZOMa1ousmcxVPP6uoT3r5lS-clKa_cHb15LLj9b2X5E0Z/s400/IMG_1647.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672718362901480290" border="0" /></a>In the end, the piece speaks volumes to me. I hope that others will find their own messages in it as well. Feminism, reproduction, glamor and violence. I think Divine would approve. I even glued crystals to Dawn's outfit to match the one in her performance art exhibition (which I'm surprised there were no references for online). I will never use crystals again in another painting, but instinctually, it is quite appropriate for this piece.<br /><br />"The Trouble with Females" consumed the greater part of two months. I'm very passionate about it's theme and subject matter and found myself completely absorbed in the process. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. "Pretty? Pretty?" The Divine Art Show will be on exhibition throughout the month of November at the Melt Gallery in Hollywood California. The opening reception is on Friday night November 11th from 8pm-11pm. Come see this piece and others in person. I will be there at some point.<br /><br />If you are interested in purchasing this piece, contact the meltdown staff at 323-851-7223 or staff@meltdown.com.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">PRETTY? PRETTY?<br /><a href="http://www.meltcomics.com/blog/2011/11/03/november-11th-2011-pretty-pretty-a-divine-art-show-at-meltdown-gallery/">The Melt Gallery @ Meltdown Comics</a></div><div style="text-align: center;" class="location vcard"><span class="fn org"></span><div class="adr"><div class="street-address">7522 Sunset Boulevard</div><div class="locality">Los Angeles, CA 90046<br /></div></div></div>Gris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-53729567030945549692011-10-24T17:05:00.000-07:002011-10-26T12:14:08.849-07:00Halloween with Gris Grimly<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFWeHB7yM-jw1ApeZqjCSRgydW7yhxjIfzmndBN-wppvJheFypl4tMaUpYN2TlI9QwD5P7AbuP6U6PFsA43c842z_dMjLBDn9kLgWMMo9LvP5KD12NtDSeHluiVVTFHThQruMTFH1jH9e/s1600/gris_halloween2011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFWeHB7yM-jw1ApeZqjCSRgydW7yhxjIfzmndBN-wppvJheFypl4tMaUpYN2TlI9QwD5P7AbuP6U6PFsA43c842z_dMjLBDn9kLgWMMo9LvP5KD12NtDSeHluiVVTFHThQruMTFH1jH9e/s400/gris_halloween2011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667218001150294274" border="0" /></a>Greetings Society of Grave Robbers,<br /><br />The smell of death is in the air. Its crisp-dry winds knock yellow and orange leaves from gnarled trees. A genocide of fauna, as they fall to their resting place among the frosted ground. Samhain, (known for mischief, costumes and candy) is our benediction and Dia de los Muertos is around the corner. I love the month of October. We are so psychically joined together that I was birthed during these cold haunting days so many years ago.<br /><br />There is much curiosity to how Father Grim spends his Halloween season. I am a purist and find much pleasure in experiencing Halloween the way my ancestors did, a tradition which is sadly fading away. I still decorate with orange and black streamers, play Bob Apple and Duck Apple and run around the fire pit on a broomstick.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0m_ML6La0IDVOoKqzpuykvbImHAUVBvKW8TQsCBXZsIAlYhoDZj7drS7QchmUTXs0y00c9xBRcwAjCgIH6LSYFXVXy0hPs6unNxDgCXCqemjAnWOx8lEeGEYdsvcxIkP-0vv89rr-r_Pz/s1600/_MG_0487.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0m_ML6La0IDVOoKqzpuykvbImHAUVBvKW8TQsCBXZsIAlYhoDZj7drS7QchmUTXs0y00c9xBRcwAjCgIH6LSYFXVXy0hPs6unNxDgCXCqemjAnWOx8lEeGEYdsvcxIkP-0vv89rr-r_Pz/s400/_MG_0487.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667632468647235458" border="0" /></a>It is a tradition for me to make my own costume. The craftsmanship is essential to the power and strength one acquires when they wear their costume. The strength of magic on Halloween is directly linked to this act. I prefer to dress as traditional characters such as a skeleton, ghost, devil, warlock...etc.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy_qjmdPN6m5qRhXssrNS1WiYeeL29KH8LzszMYXMTz3cXRstN3TXQU92YEQKLJY8l6Ygq-BU50Ov9NJcvbZUnDcyIQRv0aWFNhofN7OFbY1D06v-lX2xQYnJep1jsWwiBXG1TWUj_MzGT/s1600/_MG_0259.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy_qjmdPN6m5qRhXssrNS1WiYeeL29KH8LzszMYXMTz3cXRstN3TXQU92YEQKLJY8l6Ygq-BU50Ov9NJcvbZUnDcyIQRv0aWFNhofN7OFbY1D06v-lX2xQYnJep1jsWwiBXG1TWUj_MzGT/s400/_MG_0259.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667216503591977730" border="0" /></a>It is a tradition for me to carve Jack-O-Lanterns. The importance of carving Jack-O-Lanterns is in home protection. A creative (not necessarily well crafted) carving lit by candle at night will keep evil spirits away. This includes boogeymen, devils, demons, spooks and haunts who are all present and on the prowl during these dark hours. This magical protection lies in a creative rendition of a scary face. Forget your Martha Stuart concepts, vomiting Jack-O-Lanterns, manufactured stencils and other mockeries of the ritual.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQjs_mmUYOOCsziyyso8qu-9UF1uavFtbIxfRCblwXbLJbAY9d3DscHa86tR_ak4MGi8sEAFILO4gFANvDYu4Zc-Wmh6dcz6PxAj5U_ACJ3SODxyhnSMef0FPq4SrVsVkHh-FW-cIVoGp/s1600/halloweenmusic.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQjs_mmUYOOCsziyyso8qu-9UF1uavFtbIxfRCblwXbLJbAY9d3DscHa86tR_ak4MGi8sEAFILO4gFANvDYu4Zc-Wmh6dcz6PxAj5U_ACJ3SODxyhnSMef0FPq4SrVsVkHh-FW-cIVoGp/s400/halloweenmusic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667631133326403570" border="0" /></a>Music is important to me at all times. I listen to music from the moment I awake to the moment I go to sleep. The perfect playlist is essential during the month of October for preparation. Everybody has their own taste in music. You may not agree with my eardrums, but that is irrelevant. My playlist consists mostly of Halloween records from the 50s and 60s.<br />This includes Bobby "Boris" Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers, Frankie Stein, Milton Delugg, Screaming Lord Sutch, Screaming Jay Hawkins and Vic Mizzy. There are also some amazing compilations that contain classic Rock 'n' Roll Hits like "Spooksville", "Vampira", "Wombie Zombie", "Dead Man's Stroll", "Haunted House", "The Blob", "Woke Up Screaming", "Dry Bone Twist" and more. You can't go wrong with Elvira who has a few compilations out on CD and Vinyl. Some modern albums that get me in the spirit are The Cramps, The Misfits, Bauhaus and Alien Sex Fiend.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIBwqBjrWSGBZwTRL6p3ovXbGPbaOY1giqE7Oa1zlW_etdrHafYTNjotdvZ705UjyEvzh7Aj9R0nh2W6QrjIawrOx5RJDugjQantLytuMu2GBsdqR80Z0Eu4pT8knZoKOUOsgzhVUYIbJ/s1600/halloweenmovies.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIBwqBjrWSGBZwTRL6p3ovXbGPbaOY1giqE7Oa1zlW_etdrHafYTNjotdvZ705UjyEvzh7Aj9R0nh2W6QrjIawrOx5RJDugjQantLytuMu2GBsdqR80Z0Eu4pT8knZoKOUOsgzhVUYIbJ/s400/halloweenmovies.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667631130386036706" border="0" /></a>October is the month for viewing horror movies. I'm actually a musical kind of guy, but I find myself leaving my comfort zone during the Halloween season. With The Rocky Horror Picture Show you can kill two crows with one stone. October and Universal Classic Horror films go hand in hand. This is when I visit my old fiends of the silver screen: Frankenstein, Wolfman, Dracula and the Creature From the Black Lagoon. I also make sure to watch the first Halloween by John Carpenter and Halloween III: Season of the Witch. And if I have time I will squeeze in some of the others in the series. A new favorite of mine is Trick 'R' Treat. I will also visit some of the children's films like Mad Monster Party, It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and Monster Squad.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlTRNDNP9reHUEbyhPf2Hza0Oba2yKd4ebb_BDEX6viqEjPA3zVwf8357Dej1oez9bjPsQYXewVfdetwF1xszgwXH_bhiF4CucR4rBxYHWoficO159BP9Mm11GneQvIfTXnnTphI2tbrwV/s1600/griscash1web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlTRNDNP9reHUEbyhPf2Hza0Oba2yKd4ebb_BDEX6viqEjPA3zVwf8357Dej1oez9bjPsQYXewVfdetwF1xszgwXH_bhiF4CucR4rBxYHWoficO159BP9Mm11GneQvIfTXnnTphI2tbrwV/s400/griscash1web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667214746142677586" border="0" /></a>It is a tradition to give out candy for Halloween. Whether you partake in other season rituals or not, you most likely partake in delivering candy to costumed children when they knock and chant "Trick or Treat". The reason for this is (whether you are aware or not) if you fail to deliver a treat to those who chant at your doorstep, you will inevitably encounter a mischievous trick. Some are more malevolent than others.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAuvXDRdCduX2uP24kjGqu-va2XLCp2y2Vim2rA_nFHqQ3haPrCEu7pBslCC99ak__eiEVFWNxgaLIpeeeEfTPO9BuzbtBJZuA_LosBjzOfRjswJxJbrDqeejkBEOrR5tkjktlMXpO9Yt/s1600/halloweencandy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAuvXDRdCduX2uP24kjGqu-va2XLCp2y2Vim2rA_nFHqQ3haPrCEu7pBslCC99ak__eiEVFWNxgaLIpeeeEfTPO9BuzbtBJZuA_LosBjzOfRjswJxJbrDqeejkBEOrR5tkjktlMXpO9Yt/s400/halloweencandy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667881027832635906" border="0" /></a>My favorite candy is black licorice. But that is not very festive. My second favorite candy are the Mary Jane peanut butter blobs that are wrapped in orange and black wrappers. I used to give out popcorn balls and caramel apples. But I had to stop due to some neighborhood scare where sharp objects were found in these very same treats.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-g1NnVRGanVHaahBGx349AjUuFSmzobvs0ZBVI7fLTq-J_qsPZS3Ce-sxmvevTVEUn71Of4UUqkiCVWdAPum0JKo8imtoYoehi4Kj_LOyuYlvxUXsjjJmuxJ7cOoiteI9V43IGz5Enm6d/s1600/_MG_0359.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-g1NnVRGanVHaahBGx349AjUuFSmzobvs0ZBVI7fLTq-J_qsPZS3Ce-sxmvevTVEUn71Of4UUqkiCVWdAPum0JKo8imtoYoehi4Kj_LOyuYlvxUXsjjJmuxJ7cOoiteI9V43IGz5Enm6d/s400/_MG_0359.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667217992897772610" border="0" /></a>It is traditional for me to sit on my porch at sundown and wait for the children to come by. There is nothing more magical during this golden hour on October 31st. There is a haze in the sepia sky as the blood red sun runs to hide from the evil coming up over the horizon. This is when the Spirit of Halloween comes alive.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVAOswslbs55YMrUDhTlQv7fyvPB-hROv2Fr0hIVJUYYBto9CODsCgumVMtUY0uXqjPj9SnOzIPWZnQ8NoKKA0MdPgyB_b2RFxOao7fEQlX4kMNQnEzX9BkXsoGDeEVRJF3dq1X2aZf1t/s1600/_MG_0408.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVAOswslbs55YMrUDhTlQv7fyvPB-hROv2Fr0hIVJUYYBto9CODsCgumVMtUY0uXqjPj9SnOzIPWZnQ8NoKKA0MdPgyB_b2RFxOao7fEQlX4kMNQnEzX9BkXsoGDeEVRJF3dq1X2aZf1t/s400/_MG_0408.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667216512052641042" border="0" /></a>I prepare a few pieces of candy with special tricks. Won't they be surprised.<br /><br />Then, as night shows it's ugly head, I creep out to partake in the festivities. I lurk in the shadows and watch from behind bushes. I sneak through the streets on a night when I don't appear unusual. I love Halloween! It is the one night when I am like everybody else.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnsB3FzMsMkso9nkP5PdryY0KjQYGvb4DLxvT19eajwcqqhBOM9JublUv2aq7tXa54Rpswsr3Wn4z9eO0BDrgL1IekGjDUf3hInMTLYuBU9GEB2JSTOWENYoOHyVlcHec82FSzBdWFbI8/s1600/grishs1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnsB3FzMsMkso9nkP5PdryY0KjQYGvb4DLxvT19eajwcqqhBOM9JublUv2aq7tXa54Rpswsr3Wn4z9eO0BDrgL1IekGjDUf3hInMTLYuBU9GEB2JSTOWENYoOHyVlcHec82FSzBdWFbI8/s400/grishs1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667215185485966338" border="0" /></a>Happy Halloween from Gris Grimly and the MCP Crew.<br /><br />Be Grim!<br /><br />Images by <a href="http://www.rileykernstudio.com/">Riley Kern</a>Gris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-42164516093037014562011-10-11T12:01:00.000-07:002011-10-11T13:08:01.972-07:00October ShadowsWelcome to October of 2011. In the thirty six years that I have walked this earth, I can say with out a doubt that three years made me who I am, inspire my every thought, and gives me something to look forward to. Those three years are the thirty six months of October I have experienced. Okay...Thirty five and half months of October. I was born in October. Halloween is in October. The beginning of Autumn is in October. Everything dies, the air is brisk and spooks run rampant. I LOVE THIS MONTH!<br /><br />For the past four years, there has been an art show celebrating Halloween in art called October Shadows. It includes a strong and hefty list of artists from around the world in fine art, comics, film, television and animation. I have been involved every year with many other artists that I admire. This year, I did three acrylic paintings on wood inspired by Halloween, familiar emotions and social problems.<br /><br />I roughed out a few ideas in my sketchbook involving werewolves, devils, witches, jack-o-lanterns, ghosts and the usual Halloween suspects. When I narrowed it down to three I wanted to proceed with as paintings I had...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">A WITCH<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEBi5g3oepVerm0kJ2MYa_NutKGT8UF78R81K6t_0j9N6cSmL3XxLoFVmlsiro-O-eK7qPaT0ZW6cFuGxdev7pMt6BGvs351u2UDWZDOcIN1iFZ_yUaI-noYZsSrn7nMCb2snktZys9xoZ/s1600/IMG_1503.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEBi5g3oepVerm0kJ2MYa_NutKGT8UF78R81K6t_0j9N6cSmL3XxLoFVmlsiro-O-eK7qPaT0ZW6cFuGxdev7pMt6BGvs351u2UDWZDOcIN1iFZ_yUaI-noYZsSrn7nMCb2snktZys9xoZ/s400/IMG_1503.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662315961283141474" border="0" /></a>A JACK-O-LANTERN<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk1MU0gK3xVaKnZ3FQQNkp7pIgqxz2r0_8TGb_ETRhnFXu_Ow_gXdqyG3Rd8QoDwl7z2H2Od0KrrXwWIWM4nj7aIGLOz0NjaPkBZB7yQAqHT1HosKPBCvQVCUIoEoTAseEmKBiWyS_B0Q4/s1600/IMG_1502.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk1MU0gK3xVaKnZ3FQQNkp7pIgqxz2r0_8TGb_ETRhnFXu_Ow_gXdqyG3Rd8QoDwl7z2H2Od0KrrXwWIWM4nj7aIGLOz0NjaPkBZB7yQAqHT1HosKPBCvQVCUIoEoTAseEmKBiWyS_B0Q4/s400/IMG_1502.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662315957551378658" border="0" /></a>A GHOST<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtrpMJMetrRAXPuV4yzdNoi_FdvPWNdAQR9ULqf96MasBO-kCgJ2q2QJmTofRjYWhZP-AzA23N504P5YXZ8SAsnMgS2q4UYZtOe8F5C-AehSEOqyQ1g5RcpsQ3ck6qQmv8EZx4OotswSc/s1600/IMG_1517.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtrpMJMetrRAXPuV4yzdNoi_FdvPWNdAQR9ULqf96MasBO-kCgJ2q2QJmTofRjYWhZP-AzA23N504P5YXZ8SAsnMgS2q4UYZtOe8F5C-AehSEOqyQ1g5RcpsQ3ck6qQmv8EZx4OotswSc/s400/IMG_1517.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662315993523015394" border="0" /></a>I started by painting a checkered pattern on the boards using oranges, blacks and browns. Than I added my figures and proceeded with the details.<br /><br />"WHICH WITCH"<br />When you think traditional Halloween, you think ghosts, skeletons, devils, Jack-o-lanterns and witches. We've grown up with two types of witches- the hag and the succubus.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqFSsiD7UqPcMAXcJyn3UwQVoMWv4MPD8cP2TDSY4-W9c0Za2UINUpXxGi5zweF_-QgBopp55eAoksmIiEkdWo8qpf2BX0jqecQZMfXLxDK7i7tDiqdf8Q9eHwA6ZeUXJz7n-7i2tpJeKr/s1600/IMG_1525.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqFSsiD7UqPcMAXcJyn3UwQVoMWv4MPD8cP2TDSY4-W9c0Za2UINUpXxGi5zweF_-QgBopp55eAoksmIiEkdWo8qpf2BX0jqecQZMfXLxDK7i7tDiqdf8Q9eHwA6ZeUXJz7n-7i2tpJeKr/s400/IMG_1525.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662318813787792706" border="0" /></a>"Which Witch" is a portrayal of these two types of witches. There is the ugly hag and there is the beautiful temptress. But no matter which witch you choose...she is still a witch.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCtpsVfXixC_eTC_tKNtDBDknXhyphenhyphenX6B8Riq8-nG4T6LdMfPRTroiThDfpaASrfdgxGoHtCBQlfMbNsDtZW0a3sGkktuwQBMHfZwX6_wBqi6R-1rCL6cj5UYdbH-fDSc84EBBvEYuqvN1HS/s1600/IMG_1529.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCtpsVfXixC_eTC_tKNtDBDknXhyphenhyphenX6B8Riq8-nG4T6LdMfPRTroiThDfpaASrfdgxGoHtCBQlfMbNsDtZW0a3sGkktuwQBMHfZwX6_wBqi6R-1rCL6cj5UYdbH-fDSc84EBBvEYuqvN1HS/s400/IMG_1529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662320223595744658" border="0" /></a>"THE HORROR INSIDE"<br />Who in America hasn't grown up carving a Jack-O-Lantern? I'm sorry if I've offended any deprived individual who has not partaken in this traditional act of Americana. But I think I can safely say that most people have in one form or another. Jack-O-Lanterns go hand in hand with Halloween like a corpse to a coffin. Traditional depictions of gourds with haunting faces haunt Halloween paraphernalia of the Victorian era. I've always been drawn to these tricksters.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ka-OzweHs5KtGGovy-e7yzSLxiS-Wv8xKFiigqqcgZuidxmn6XDYnbFYKr-86WiHnJ5nch5l4FPyxC5LuPVEK-_tB4s8cCOMOauXgdbzr5kjZoMeuSy-GN5OaW-KRolcwriD9T8pIwCg/s1600/IMG_1526.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ka-OzweHs5KtGGovy-e7yzSLxiS-Wv8xKFiigqqcgZuidxmn6XDYnbFYKr-86WiHnJ5nch5l4FPyxC5LuPVEK-_tB4s8cCOMOauXgdbzr5kjZoMeuSy-GN5OaW-KRolcwriD9T8pIwCg/s400/IMG_1526.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662318819978804834" border="0" /></a>In "The Horror Inside" I've depicted a more morose gourd spirit whose cavity is opened up and spilling with confetti, bats, candy and bones. It represents the importance of expelling the dark things that build up inside us because they can and will destroy our spirits.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-x7NYwiSOEhKiCWk4TC8t5zGYj-OYCY2xpzaum6H_6GhUOGFUgF4E6V7fEvnmKYAiL8We6FsaC5-dluz-eZHNgnO7bIx9NLISyswmfftLDT5UPdSqGJxZcOSFRksR3fuTvmZjnBC3nEl/s1600/IMG_1510.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-x7NYwiSOEhKiCWk4TC8t5zGYj-OYCY2xpzaum6H_6GhUOGFUgF4E6V7fEvnmKYAiL8We6FsaC5-dluz-eZHNgnO7bIx9NLISyswmfftLDT5UPdSqGJxZcOSFRksR3fuTvmZjnBC3nEl/s400/IMG_1510.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662315971704142690" border="0" /></a>"UNVEILING THE HEART BENEATH THE SHEET"<br />I'm obsessed with Halloween. I collect vintage Halloween decorations and costumes. I love the old Ben Cooper vacuform masks. But even more so, I love the netting masks of the turn of the century. They are much more creepy. I find myself drawn more to traditional costumes than modern. My favorite costume of all time would have to be the skeleton jumpsuit and skull mask. Another favorite is the traditional sheet ghost.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-x7NYwiSOEhKiCWk4TC8t5zGYj-OYCY2xpzaum6H_6GhUOGFUgF4E6V7fEvnmKYAiL8We6FsaC5-dluz-eZHNgnO7bIx9NLISyswmfftLDT5UPdSqGJxZcOSFRksR3fuTvmZjnBC3nEl/s1600/IMG_1510.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNlKiEPHx2d9E2Blggclw6v1RAj0Dat_LSzaLBMTAL-Te35aKAJ4iMraecV-45sIpQ_i1nA4PoC9nqi2LCwCWRuHptlkoMR0jN8H5S81QM1J498AKptKTeeOIhJfKaHAyXJW01jVrk5FF/s1600/IMG_1518.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNlKiEPHx2d9E2Blggclw6v1RAj0Dat_LSzaLBMTAL-Te35aKAJ4iMraecV-45sIpQ_i1nA4PoC9nqi2LCwCWRuHptlkoMR0jN8H5S81QM1J498AKptKTeeOIhJfKaHAyXJW01jVrk5FF/s400/IMG_1518.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662318788119915778" border="0" /></a>"Unveiling the Heart Beneath the Sheet" is about acceptance and a social commentary about judging individual's characters by their appearance. A sheet ghost is thought to be empty, apathetic and cold. In this piece, the little girl is lifting up her sheet to expose a golden heart that is the absolute opposite.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsrR9T2qWAXbotX6RlT8Du7-hTaJn7FAgZbqKpg2tALsPtIR0w3i0-hIE-eQzcvvn4hyphenhyphenmmcslqhBCz_ONzAWYqeduhBuzh0HXP7u12F4XXbrdTWIxUy2W4T8QOKSBZDa-7ls-IFszWUjeA/s1600/IMG_1534.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsrR9T2qWAXbotX6RlT8Du7-hTaJn7FAgZbqKpg2tALsPtIR0w3i0-hIE-eQzcvvn4hyphenhyphenmmcslqhBCz_ONzAWYqeduhBuzh0HXP7u12F4XXbrdTWIxUy2W4T8QOKSBZDa-7ls-IFszWUjeA/s400/IMG_1534.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662320233236609810" border="0" /></a>Overall, I was really happy with these three paintings. I had started a fourth one depicting a devil holding a Jack-O-Lantern. But I was unable to finish it in time for the show.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0a0P5EZXqNkLeg1kxTo9_hTf5v5JPCFGOTvZjnCxeY9wrsXtgTPQ6M9mJChHtZj8Ydu9LEdW59To44XncryMrr66j9JTWTUc0q6_TMpfqH7JoTFMLxOgL00ovWaTnWnP3Z9RFMOAIsHT/s1600/IMG_1535.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0a0P5EZXqNkLeg1kxTo9_hTf5v5JPCFGOTvZjnCxeY9wrsXtgTPQ6M9mJChHtZj8Ydu9LEdW59To44XncryMrr66j9JTWTUc0q6_TMpfqH7JoTFMLxOgL00ovWaTnWnP3Z9RFMOAIsHT/s400/IMG_1535.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662320245707771634" border="0" /></a>These pieces are on display and for sale at the October Shadows art show in Altadena California. This free event opened on Sunday, October 2nd at the art gallery inside of the Mountain View Mausoleum, 2300 N. Marengo Avenue in Altadena, CA 91001 and will run each Saturday from 11am to 5pm and Sunday from 11am – 3pm through the entire month of October. <p>Any artwork purchased must remain on display for the first two weeks of the show’s run, but will be available for pick-up on or after Sunday, October 16th.</p> <p>For more information:</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.creaturefeatures.com/octobershadows/">OCTOBER SHADOWS</a><br />Mountain View Mausoleum<br />2300 N Marengo Ave<br />Altadena, CA 91001<br />Phone: (626) 355-9100<br /><a href="mailto:octobershadows@creaturefeatures.com?subject=October%20Shadows">octobershadows@creaturefeatures.com</a><br /></p>Gris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-78485181057224801442011-08-29T10:49:00.000-07:002011-08-29T20:58:51.722-07:00Aliens are Dodger fansOn August 26th 2011, I attended my first LA Dodgers baseball game. My girlfriend and I started a bucket list and on occasion we are able to cross off our accomplished goals. Sunday was baking in 100 degree weather with friends watching the Dodgers play the Rockies. We had great seats that kept us in the shade and the $10 bud lights were some of the best tasting beer I have ever had. I was a bit disappointed that the peanuts were the same bag you can buy at your local grocery store (only 5x the price) and they stopped serving Dodger Dogs in the seventh inning. But it was a great first game to have attended and after 11 innings, the Dodgers won. Go Blue!
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<br />But what made this game a memorable experience is the unexplainable activity we witnessed in the sky. The Dodgers weren't doing too well in the first four innings and I found myself zoning out and looking at details around the stadium. That was when I spotted the white orb set against the clear blue sky. It was bright and would pulsate slowly, dimming and illuminating like the butt of a light bug. Then I noticed another one close by, but not as bright. Without thinking much, I said "I think I see a UFO".
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<br />Now, at this point I didn't really believe it was a UFO. But it slipped out like sarcasm. My friends looked up as I pointed out the orbs. The biggest skeptic in the group passed them off as balloons. I had my doubts. About this time, the dimmer of the two started making it's way south. We discussed the possibility of them being planes, but as an actually plane soared by we realized how absurd that was.
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<br />The lonely, pulsating orb was now joined by six other orbs all lined up to form an upside down L. The skeptic was the first to notice this behavior and pointed it out. I looked around and noticed that everyone else had lost interest in the game and was fixated on the sky talking about UFOs and government aircraft. It was like a scene straight out of a Michael Bay movie.
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<br />We were still trying to rationalize what hell we were looking at. I mentioned it could be stars, despite the one light traveling southbound in the clear blue sky at approximately 4PM. sometimes the stars come out in daylight, right? I was reaching for some sort of sensical explanation. Then one of the "stars" zoomed southbound and the other five just disappeared, leaving the bright pulsating orb alone, again. Throughout the next half hour, it too, faded into the distance.
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<br />The next day I searched youtube for other sightings. It looks like there were others who saw UFOs on August 26th in their neighborhood, including New York.
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<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5WLB62f0VUI">AUGUST 26TH FOOTAGE 1</a>
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<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XI2FJCFUvQQ">AUGUST 26TH FOOTAGE 2</a>
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<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cz7Dr-D54eU">AUGUST 26TH FOOTAGE 3</a>
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<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMvgrUAfhuI">AUGUST 26TH FOOTAGE 4</a>
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<br />I'm not saying I believe that what I saw were spaceships transporting aliens from another galaxy. But I can say that it defied any publicly known identity. UFO, as we all know, means Unexplained Flying Object. And that is exactly what it was.
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<br />Although I believe that anything is possible, I am a die-hard skeptic. I only come to conclusions when I have collected all the information I can which results in an overall fact. But even then, I'm the kind of person who questions everything. Even if the government and the Vatican came out and informed the people of earth that we have been visited by life on other planets, I would question it. After all, when have they ever told us the truth before.
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<br />This experience got my mind thinking and I conceived of three basic plots for Sci-Fi stories. Which is your favorite?
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<br />1) All ideas of man's origin are a lie. There is no God. We did not evolve from apes. We were genetically created by Aliens and placed on this earth like a child's sea monkey collection. Only, we don't get to swim around all day, eating and pooping in an underwater kingdom. Our main purpose is to harvest precious gold materials for the Alien race who are dependent on this element. It has always been this way. Discoveries of past fallen civilizations are proof of this. Artifacts of mummy remains left in the streets tell of an aerial attack. Hype is released to buy up gold, trade in gold for money and mine for gold. Which is exactly what the humans do. Every 2000 years, the Aliens come for their gold. That time is now.
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<br />2) There is a spiritual battle going on, unbeknownst to humans. What we believe to be Aliens from another Galaxy are actually demons and angels. The Angels come down from the heavens in aircraft to give us hope and watch over us. Where as the demons, a reptile like species, live underground and travel through tunnels. The demons too have aircraft, but they come up from the ground through volcanoes and oceans. We are nothing more than pawns in the game between good and evil. If the demons can strip the soul away from the game piece, they win that soul. How do the demons strip the soul? By eventually transforming the human into a mindless, apathetic, loveless robot.
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<br />3) In an attempt to gain control over the entire planet, the powers-that-be have been strategically maneuvering into a single world government. This government will be a giant dictatorship enforcing one religion, one race, one view over the entirety of planet earth. Slow steps have been made by destroying the value of paper money and converting to a single world currency made of gold and by removing the boarders between landlocked countries. But a tricky procedure is to attain one government. How is this possible without upsetting other countries unwilling to go along with the plan or evoking a citizen's riot? Fear. Presidents begin to speak about the possibility of life on other planets. If there is an attack, our only chance of victory is to retaliate as a single planet rather than separate countries. With advancing technology, it becomes possible to project holograms (so incredibly lifelike) to fool eyewitnesses. UFO sightings happen all over the world, conditioning people to believe in life on other planets. Then, a carefully planned mock attack stirs a panic among all earthlings. They relinquish control and the dictatorship is formed.
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<br />These are all fun ideas. Possible? I don't know. I'm just exercising my creative brain muscle.
<br />Gris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-3575569436499572192011-08-21T17:00:00.000-07:002011-08-22T10:13:07.207-07:00West Memphis Three on the cucking stool<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs45MScH4roukDema2h5gldZweMVGSmI_KQ4KD1x5ZneR9nrGOc-BzQB1hc_o4wxxCm2zLsDwCesb7sZl-PCeI0aHzMfS7ZwKLjf3WxRsj4kwKerVsybmV0MmnxT4-9y0KskLLNf9VHf3s/s1600/Cucking_stool.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs45MScH4roukDema2h5gldZweMVGSmI_KQ4KD1x5ZneR9nrGOc-BzQB1hc_o4wxxCm2zLsDwCesb7sZl-PCeI0aHzMfS7ZwKLjf3WxRsj4kwKerVsybmV0MmnxT4-9y0KskLLNf9VHf3s/s400/Cucking_stool.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643495995901318434" border="0" /></a>Medieval times, England- A seemingly foolproof technique for identifying witches was with a cucking or ducking stool. The cucking stool derives from <i>wyuen pine</i> which means "women's punishment". It is basically a wooden stool fastened to a giant lever. The supposed witch was tied to the stool and dunked repeatedly into a large vat of water, pond or stream. This form of interrogation was later accomplished absent of the chair by binding the victim's right thumb to the left toe. A rope was tied around the waist of the accused who was then thrown into a river or deep pond. In either method, the verdict was the same. If the accused drowned, she was deemed innocent. If the accused survived, she was deemed a witch and burned at the stake.
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<br />August 19th 2011, America (land of the free)- A surprise hearing was held in Jonesboro Arkansas regarding the release of three men known as the West Memphis Three. For almost 18 years, the WM3 have been imprisoned for the murder of three boys. Although there was no evidence to have put them there in the first place, the WM3 have spent two decades trying to prove their innocence. The judge offered a deal with the prosecutors; The three men would be released from prison if they change their plea from not guilty to guilty. Tired and worn down from fighting, the WM3 agreed.
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<br />These two methods of judicature seem equally asinine. It is hard to believe in the American Judicial system with numerous cases like this. While it is written in ink that we are innocent until proven guilty, it is clear that we are all screwed unless we can prove otherwise.
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<br />I've been involved with the WM3 for about five years now. I don't know the accused men or their families but have been drawn to their situation; growing up an outcast in hicksville. I grew up on a farm in the sticks outside of a town with a population of 3000. Not only was I the same age as the accused Damien Echols, I had long dyed hair and wore black. But more than feeling a bloodline among the freaks, I gravitated towards the cancer in our judicial system made apparent by this case. That is what I fight for...to have a fair and just America.
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<br />Martin Luther King Jr said, "<span class="body">Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." That quote has been tattooed in my memory. I feel that we need to choose cases of injustice in our communities or that are close to us and fight to make them accountable.
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<br />I was away on a trip when this surprise hearing for the WM3 happened. All weekend my phone blew up with emails, tweets and facebook comments from fiends that are familiar with my involvement. I often question my efforts being unaware of what kind of an impact I'm making. Is any of this getting through? Am I handling things to my full potential? Does my little contribution make a difference? It was at this moment that I knew it had. I left writings on the walls and they had been read.
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<br />When I was finally able to soak in all the information I was ecstatic, confused and frustrated. As happy as I am that the WM3 are finally free, what I've been trying to fight and bring awareness to (which is injustice) still infects this case. The supreme court ruling that the WM3 are guilty and set free with time served is not justice. Again, victim's are being charged for a crime with no evidence against them. The case is being closed with the murderer(s) still in question. Individuals in power are not being held accountable for misrepresenting their position of authority.
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<br />I'm uncertain where I go from here. I will stay in contact with the WM3 organization and see where I can help. I still have a few sizes left in the two WM3 shirts that I created to raise money and awareness for the cause. They can be purchased through <a href="http://www.madcreator.com/store/">www.madcreator.com</a>. I will continue to pass on all proceeds to the organization as they will continue to have use for donations.
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<br /></span><a href="http://www.madcreator.com/store/"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEWqnfHJhGsa8QK3UlT2W3VAtBkbbvzcps6lHcLsSHbyaWnmGItk_cuRM3jMSaWMQFOaw19YIzo6ELhRULEwlQZ-mh797AsrMkMHMlOe_a23dGNXx58fn4zfFPwpHCNvDvn-eM_onZxzNq/s400/wm3arefree.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643495313137586898" border="0" /></a><span class="body">Wherever my path leads, I believe the WM3 are on it and I would like to take you with me.
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<br />Be Grim!
<br />Gris Grimly
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<br /></span> Gris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-90421209479334604092011-08-11T12:12:00.000-07:002011-08-11T15:16:22.160-07:00I quit this publishing business!It looks like my last post on ebooks generated emotions for many of you readers. In addition to the few comments to the blog posting, I received tweets, comments on facebook and personal emails. Those responses were broken up into two groups: Those who oppose digital books and those who support digital books. The general consensus of those who support this new technology use the same bases for their argument. The ebook allows one to obtain and carry an extensive library of literature that was never possible before. Also, the ebook allows more authors to be circulated without the stoic bouncing of editors and publishing houses.
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<br />These are all very valid opinions and they are neither right nor wrong but suitable for those making them. As is my opinion. The only factual point that I can make against ebooks is my love for the printed material opposed to the digital age. But there are a few arguments I would like to make against the ebook supporters that I chose not to bring up in the last posting.
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<br />First of all, I can't argue with the fact that the ebook allows for an individual to acquire and store more volumes of literature...to a fault. I compare this to the music industry and the same demise will follow. In 2009, a study followed 900 popular books. Of those books, each title was illegally downloaded around 10,000 times. This does not include all the other titles that were downloaded for free. If I did some more digging, I'm sure that 2010 would prove to have greater numbers. I can see why people approve of the ebook because you can own more than you can afford. It's the American way. I look at my book shelf as I write. I may only own half (or even much less) as many books in the physical form next to someone and their ebook collection. But each and every book means so much to me. I paid for it. If there were three books I wanted and could only afford one, that book means more to me because I chose it over the others.
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<br />Let's face it. Ebooks make it all too easy. Too easy to own. Too easy to steal. It will all trickle down (it's already begun). Book stores are going out of business. Publishers will publish less. Authors will lose jobs. Even those that will still publish independently will do so in less volume because they will have to have a day job to pay the bills. Digital music killed the music scene and digital books will kill the publishing scene.
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<br />Secondly, the ebook does allow for more authors to get their work seen. This is both good and bad. I understand the difficulty in getting published. I submitted my work to comic companies for almost a decade before I received my first publishing gig. And I still haven't been hired to illustrate a comic book. But it should be difficult.
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<br />Look at digital film and youtube. It is so extremely easy for anyone to get their hands on a digital camera, make a film and have it seen by millions of people. It doesn't even have to be good. Now, talent scouts will pick up individuals based on their youtube views. Does the amount of views equal quality? Absolutely not. This technology unleashed a beast of mediocrity.
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<br />The same is true for publishing. It shouldn't be easy to get published. And if you can't get a big publisher to believe in your work, then maybe you should have some ordeal that signifies your own confidence in your abilities. Take the risk and drop a few thousand dollars to get your book published and distributed. Rewards come to the deserving. Maybe I feel like the pot of gold should require some talent, effort and/or gamble. Maybe I think it is all too easy and we live in a society that expects entitlement.
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<br />Now playing devil's advocate, are there talented-hardworking authors out there that are not getting published? Of course. Be it bad luck, faulty charisma, censorship or that their work is never looked at and instead tossed in the garbage, they just can't get a break. Will the ebook rectify this unfortunate situation. Possibly, with an equally negative side effect.
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<br />Now here's where I may loose some of you. It appears that the ebook makes it easy for alternative literature to bypass censoring government. Hurray for the revolution, right? What will happen when the government owns the computers and the internet you rely on for this distribution. I'm going to give you the puzzle pieces and you can put it together however you like.
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<br />In 2001, George W Bush passed a law called the Patriot Act allowing government access to your computer and web activity without warrant. Nothing is being done to stop monopolization. Time/Warner/Aol are talking about merging with AT&T. AT&T are talking about merging with Verizon. Verizon is predicted to merge with sprint. We are close to one company owning and running the internet and phone service. In 2009, Barrack Obama increased and established a cybersecurity facility in the white house with an executive order to centralize all cyberactivity to be monitored and controlled by any one country. The government is attempting to take control of the internet as a whole with the “Protecting Cyberspace as a National Asset Act” (“PCNAA”). Amazon, the largest online retailer, is the creator of the best selling ebook reader Kindle.
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<br />In July 2009, The New York Times <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_New_York_Times" title="The New York Times"></a></i>reported that amazon.com deleted all customer copies of certain books published by MobileReference,<sup id="cite_ref-136" class="reference"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amazon.com#cite_note-136"><span></span></a></sup> including the books 1984 <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nineteen_Eighty-Four" title="Nineteen Eighty-Four"></a></i>and Animal Farm from users' Kindles. This action was taken with neither prior notification nor specific permission of individual users.
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<br />If Amazon can do this, do you think alternative literature will exist in the future with the ebook? The government will control the one company that operates our internet service, which circulates literature, which we put on a computer device that is accessible to all of the above. It's a lot easier to delete a digital file with the push of a button, then to form a book burning mob and hunt down books. We as a society are making it easier for the government to control what we read, release disinformation and rewrite history.
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<br />This is just a theory of course. But my old man always taught me to look under the hood before I buy a car. Excuse the biblical analogy, but if the apple didn't look so ripe and delicious, do you think Eve would have taken it?
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<br />I'm not really going to quit in the publishing world. I just figured a tragic title like that would generate more attention. But there are many independent publishers, bookstores and authors who can't lick it. I'd rather see them stick around than obtain this technology. Zeitgeist. The sign of the times. Like Pee Wee once said, "I'm a fighter, Dotty. A rebel". No matter what happens, I'll role with the punches. If I have to, I'll release my books digitally. Although I don't know how that will help when a book that has not been coded into an ebook sells more copies as a whole than those that have been digitized.
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<br />I'll restate that so that you don't misconstrue me and focus on how much more ebooks sell than hardcover books. A book that is in the physical form ONLY has a larger percentage of purchased sales than a book that has been digitized because you can't access that book for free (without shoplifting of course). Get it?
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<br />And who has the balls to actually go into a store and shoplift any more?
<br />Gris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-46013065025103485442011-08-03T11:20:00.000-07:002011-08-03T12:57:11.203-07:00Preserving life on the shelf#%$! the whales! Save the books!<br /><br />You could call me a purist. Maybe a fundamentalist...An individualism fundamentalist. I have a strict and literal adherence to the existence of individuality in all things. I could write a 500 page thesis on this belief going into music, film, human liberties...etc. But I will focus briefly on books.<br /><br />It is in everyday I breath that I am convinced that I was born into the wrong era. The things that I adore and make me happy are slowly becoming extinct. And it troubles me. In my lifetime, I believe the manufacturing of books in the physical form will be extinct. I strongly oppose this movement. There is nothing like the touch of a hardback book. I've removed the dust cover on every book I own, to run my finger senses across it's skin discovering a sensation of slick, cloth, leather or embossed textures. This is the individual personality of the book. And as the book lives on, it's physical characteristics do too. Abrasions tattoo the surface telling the history of every accident, fall and scrape. Years and hard life can be identified by the fragility of the spine like the eyes of a dope fiend. Pages get brittle and yellow. They start to crack and fall out. Some books have inscriptions from the buyer like a birth certificate as a reminder when and why this individual came into the world. Books are individual lives. The Kindle is not.<br /><br />The Kindle is a slick hard device that digital clones of books are loaded onto. You are not reading a book on a Kindle anymore than you can touch a hologram. Your defiled reproduction of Chuck Palahniuk feels the same as your reproduction of Charles Baudelaire. This is because their soulless essence is imprisoned in the same body along with any number of other faux books (a concentration camp for literature). A gift from a loved one in the form of digital literature is made up of zeros and ones, the same as every other meaningless and forgotten gift. The only thing that differentiates one from another is the difference of words and their arrangement, as they appear to the reader on the screen.<br /><br />What does this have to do with individualism? Although greatly flawed, I like who I am. I am the result of 35 years of experience that is not identical to another human out there. Yet, I am no more superior or inferior to anyone else. Nor do I feel like my existence is significant when compared to the size of the cosmos I'm lost in. But it is my god given right to be an individual and it is that liberty that I fight for. Every book I've read (along with all my other experiences) make up who I am.<br /><br />When there are no more books being printed and the only way to receive literature is through digital mutations of the glorious form, our selection will become chosen. The printed word cannot be controlled, no matter how many mobs instigate burnings. A copy will get out, someone will reprint, and through the power of the black market the book will live again. This will not happen with the Kindle. I can't make a zine and sell it through the underground with a Kindle. The books that will be released for this device will be heavily controlled and censored. Many books will not be cloned and their physical form will be buried among garbage.<br /><br />Some, if not all, of you are questioning this thought process. We have already given away too many of our rights. With the Patriot Act we've allowed government into our lives. Not only can they crack into our computers, but also into our smart phones and Kindles. There are attempts to control the internet. Alternative news sources are already being shutdown if not framed for lunacy or corruption. Say goodbye to our freedom of speech. If we are that close to the decay of the first amendment, we are closer than we know to controlled censorship. That is why the Kindle is an attack on everyone to exist as an individual.<br /><br />So when I received an email today from a 14 year-old who loves books and adventures to the library, I smiled a bit knowing that there is hope for the future. He writes:<br /><br />Dear Gris Grimly,<br />My name is Daniel ******. I am 14 years old born ******, 19**. I live in ******. I love to go to the ****** city Library. Its very interesting to hear from most of the librarians that they rarely see kids my age being so interested in books. I love books. They're amazing. You have to really seek in a book. Some people think,"hey, this is just a book". But for me a book is a wonderful adventure! When i grow up i want to be a director. I love movies. Your books are great. I love them. I read most of them but I'm trying to read them all. Too bad my library doesn't carry all your books. I wish they did. I especially wish they had pinocchio! I heard there is going to be a movie based on the book pinocchio. Is that true? I love your art work. It is really nice and well done. Are there any new books coming up? You are an amazing illustrator and what you have is truly a gift.<br />Sincerely,<br />Daniel ******<br /><br />Unfortunately, I have to keep up with the Joneses. That mean if all of you out there continue to buy Kindles and digital want-to-be books, I will have to produce to meet the demand. I say it again...UNFORTUNATELY.<br /><br />Buy books. Support individualism.<br /><br />Be Grim!<br />Gris GrimlyGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-65644106830258417732011-07-26T14:34:00.000-07:002011-07-29T12:54:11.465-07:00Kickin' Back at the ConI first attended San Diego Comic Con to promote my work in 2000. I walked around with the tour of fiends promoting the release of my first book Monster Museum and passed out postcards and stickers. I had my first booth in 2001 and grew from there. I feel proud to look at my humble beginnings (10x10 booth with one book and one shirt) to the MCP mega store that I ended on in 2009 (10x20 booth with 40 shirts, 18 books, prints, buckles, stickers, DVDs, CDs, and more). It was a fun and memorial decade at the con.<br /><br />In 2010, I decided to not come back to SDCC for a number of reasons. The main reason was that I was working as Director on the development stage of my animated film Pinocchio. But it was more than that. The person I was throughout that past decade was no longer me and I didn't feel like I could do SDCC as I had in the past.<br /><br />Fast forward one year. I was asked by the publisher of Baby Tattoo Books to be a guest at SDCC to promote the release of my new sketchbook Atrum Secretum (you can order the book here: <a href="http://www.madcreator.com/store">MCP STORE</a>).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGlEeV5CDwi4YLG7R3X4Il35njCUMD4ocANWrsV3imbumyDC1M2YXo_j07-E6g2Y-C1vL9JETC_pkqnMMm_IvyXofaikUNy-WQq70C9kXQ6WnjIz-XL3zNbwCS4VLv6dWRL316JeUgitFg/s1600/grimly+001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 321px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGlEeV5CDwi4YLG7R3X4Il35njCUMD4ocANWrsV3imbumyDC1M2YXo_j07-E6g2Y-C1vL9JETC_pkqnMMm_IvyXofaikUNy-WQq70C9kXQ6WnjIz-XL3zNbwCS4VLv6dWRL316JeUgitFg/s400/grimly+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633833916861811986" border="0" /></a>We worked out the details and I announced my return in 2011 to the geekfest (drawing in way over 150,000 attendees). So how did it go?<br /><br />I had two signings scheduled both Friday and Saturday. The grim buzz this year was the pre-sale of Atrum Secretum. AND...if you were the first 100 to purchase a book, you received a coupon to be redeemed for a sketch among the pages of the sketchbook.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjmx_C19-bFiypfSvGmYTLW72mQpLlIBjAmNOClA_1z26MLQgg9UkHcKV4tX9Mi91c5WlDIHFZq-Ys0XEgDKRFx86ehjoVZvYADjRXh4fA_WE2senUgFHOm7h06iNTMLyXgBsHxtrTSinV/s1600/_LUC0244.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjmx_C19-bFiypfSvGmYTLW72mQpLlIBjAmNOClA_1z26MLQgg9UkHcKV4tX9Mi91c5WlDIHFZq-Ys0XEgDKRFx86ehjoVZvYADjRXh4fA_WE2senUgFHOm7h06iNTMLyXgBsHxtrTSinV/s400/_LUC0244.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634824721481462306" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOuvr0XiA20EweSO8-jTaj9LbasTciCT4D_NBKySunvU8UWvmoorTOw4EWftejKXWteqGRknTVEF8-gieE86VSs2T_S21xuX422WubG1OJ_tkWFnZk81HyTPXuZbd7d_icwXYSROZUi5T/s1600/_LUC0211.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOuvr0XiA20EweSO8-jTaj9LbasTciCT4D_NBKySunvU8UWvmoorTOw4EWftejKXWteqGRknTVEF8-gieE86VSs2T_S21xuX422WubG1OJ_tkWFnZk81HyTPXuZbd7d_icwXYSROZUi5T/s400/_LUC0211.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634855966151628258" border="0" /></a>I want to thank everyone for supporting independent publishers and the arts by picking up a copy of this book. At every signing, I was welcomed by a line of fiends. It's good to see that even without my own booth and relocated on the other side of the convention hall, the loyalty remains. I enjoyed meeting you all, drawing in each and every one of your books, and hearing your stories.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iup3mn8GhSqJhv0uEN91D_woHxMGCY32paigd_qHsiLCcIR5SOuBVZoCiXfkaO8jpAgvTWiFPBGy89-en_2ACJepZBScejfoPp3IeH3_H2YS9eNKBaWaoBKH4bpp5hixpCqRK-1xORaV/s1600/_LUC0142.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iup3mn8GhSqJhv0uEN91D_woHxMGCY32paigd_qHsiLCcIR5SOuBVZoCiXfkaO8jpAgvTWiFPBGy89-en_2ACJepZBScejfoPp3IeH3_H2YS9eNKBaWaoBKH4bpp5hixpCqRK-1xORaV/s400/_LUC0142.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634855963026373922" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9MwjiaXagUy-bb9SMSgievjyezAu5anv7il4vbkAqYcO0a7zCKEJmcTdX8zxFJT_TJm4bFS1CZs_s8dNWeTFeWbNpyKmV_ByWVcDYpods2YDHv63scd3oduQk3C6UBAo-Tk6_fXeJFbh/s1600/_LUC0233.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9MwjiaXagUy-bb9SMSgievjyezAu5anv7il4vbkAqYcO0a7zCKEJmcTdX8zxFJT_TJm4bFS1CZs_s8dNWeTFeWbNpyKmV_ByWVcDYpods2YDHv63scd3oduQk3C6UBAo-Tk6_fXeJFbh/s400/_LUC0233.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634824720827473090" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6-eLp90qMGn57E36GSFg5XISD9GF8cje7sVnDjQkMokZ1ge_dPl1iq9Ij0Cn4P81Ye4lMgU8E8Eg20NSVbwtPk91GlwwvAQXq5q3xclfnBCuqI9liWS_NzIissYHnelRvbepnUVDOgrIf/s1600/_LUC0195.tif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6-eLp90qMGn57E36GSFg5XISD9GF8cje7sVnDjQkMokZ1ge_dPl1iq9Ij0Cn4P81Ye4lMgU8E8Eg20NSVbwtPk91GlwwvAQXq5q3xclfnBCuqI9liWS_NzIissYHnelRvbepnUVDOgrIf/s400/_LUC0195.tif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634855964122772114" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcFM_IuM5Sy30tp8ThBc1anhY-V-ENvBrL_9RJmMK6bSRhbJfNakIXqyojj86svDAcCy-eG5NAmLRHHmFK7SwzHvgWxPPGxWaWb7VI7PEm358kWSAbT6CvyM0HeXm4FJXNTXGU6KZ1bYE/s1600/_LUC0112.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcFM_IuM5Sy30tp8ThBc1anhY-V-ENvBrL_9RJmMK6bSRhbJfNakIXqyojj86svDAcCy-eG5NAmLRHHmFK7SwzHvgWxPPGxWaWb7VI7PEm358kWSAbT6CvyM0HeXm4FJXNTXGU6KZ1bYE/s400/_LUC0112.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634855957103542818" border="0" /></a>I was blown away by a specific tattoo shown to me by John. Why does this tattoo mean so much? About two years ago I went to see one of my favorite artists perform on my birthday. That artist is William Elliott Whitmore. After the show, a few of the attendees found themselves at a saloon across the street. I was identified by John (then a stranger) who found himself emotionally moved. It being his birthday as well, he saw his favorite musician perform and met his favorite artist. We spent the night drinking whiskey and celebrating our birthdays. This tattoo commemorates that evening with Whitmore's logo of the crow clinching a bottle of booze and a piece of my art. Now, wasn't that a sweet story?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipNPrCM2WJNbtachcmTGWEW0zh4u-6OOnWco46A3inhdkCYm3nqvl-2J4Hphb6tf_qjd4OgGNnSKbvc497If_3WQ0XXzbo-z6v-Ue_JJqNCLRLuCWZrB8hnFH_6mnSwKQ89_qQMJ78BeTq/s1600/_LUC0188.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipNPrCM2WJNbtachcmTGWEW0zh4u-6OOnWco46A3inhdkCYm3nqvl-2J4Hphb6tf_qjd4OgGNnSKbvc497If_3WQ0XXzbo-z6v-Ue_JJqNCLRLuCWZrB8hnFH_6mnSwKQ89_qQMJ78BeTq/s400/_LUC0188.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634856869748501074" border="0" /></a>John- I'm honored.<br /><br />Other than my signings at the SDCC, I stayed as far as possible from the gaslamp where the event is held. A place where I can focus on work, peace of mind and focus on my friends who matter the most. The last couple years I attended SDCC, I felt a yearning to stay in a hotel secluded from the hustle and flow. But servicing and managing a booth made it problematic for me or the crew to stay at any distance. This year, I had the luxury of achieving this goal and resided at a little Polynesian paradise I like to frequent in the San Diego area. My girlfriend discovered this hotel which I quickly found an adoration for.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHSrKY2FR5unHnMJdDkbs3JkChpqwnpiNPUqqeKx3B5UodT61Ak4q9rz2iiQgDN1NeawVvzMZbi4jhVOpMCJXPszpPjGUn3zqvd8nc5JV_97iMpUxLT5impO4S2wyePTN1psnwZW65Io3/s1600/IMG02194-20110721-1340.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHSrKY2FR5unHnMJdDkbs3JkChpqwnpiNPUqqeKx3B5UodT61Ak4q9rz2iiQgDN1NeawVvzMZbi4jhVOpMCJXPszpPjGUn3zqvd8nc5JV_97iMpUxLT5impO4S2wyePTN1psnwZW65Io3/s400/IMG02194-20110721-1340.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633820563364217954" border="0" /></a>2010 marked the year of the Tiki for me. The MCP crew and I found ourselves searching out Tiki bars and Polynesian architecture all over. I even resurrected a Voodoo Island in my backyard with a Tiki bar, thatch huts, shrunken heads and Tiki sculptures. Although I can't fully relate to the tiki culture, I've fully embraced the darker side of Tiki...Grimly-fied. With that said, there is no other place i would rather stay in San Diego than this paradise. Many hours were spent in the pool or hot tub, sipping Caribbean drinks or just wondering around amongst the tropical plants and Tiki sculptures.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdqceuVU3Vds7nM6UhseGY7RxWPeeUo9ptCCHGr3S6FBn5D9qBfBHpAzv226OW3AoPsuMh0MLmGr2_Vvo84LUlq6Qle-qBnANcMN78AcVd-CAN15yT8q8VROlb0OSzbVgdx1gNh5_oRix/s1600/IMG02197-20110721-1343.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdqceuVU3Vds7nM6UhseGY7RxWPeeUo9ptCCHGr3S6FBn5D9qBfBHpAzv226OW3AoPsuMh0MLmGr2_Vvo84LUlq6Qle-qBnANcMN78AcVd-CAN15yT8q8VROlb0OSzbVgdx1gNh5_oRix/s400/IMG02197-20110721-1343.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633819781620971298" border="0" /></a>I ate a burrito the size of a baby!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWb89r4Xz3W-DLWxYU2antfc_nRs2m4II94lLATW01p78pYXd0s4s7RYoRtOw1fRPX6DzVBg04sM15Gr__zfZoJe5tjULGX6nspGQ0bO3cTYL4xmtehrVXQynbJogbkXuo4VolXkUa9zeW/s1600/IMG02199-20110721-1421.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWb89r4Xz3W-DLWxYU2antfc_nRs2m4II94lLATW01p78pYXd0s4s7RYoRtOw1fRPX6DzVBg04sM15Gr__zfZoJe5tjULGX6nspGQ0bO3cTYL4xmtehrVXQynbJogbkXuo4VolXkUa9zeW/s400/IMG02199-20110721-1421.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633805091739320786" border="0" /></a>Mornings were spent walking along the shore where we witnessed fish being caught, dogs defecating and pelicans defending their turf against unwelcome foul.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfYDQIx8lgMjQmumNd2dqSl__BQHRORovsnKZKDpsmTrGSr6rNbYuHqGcXubIF0wbs9NhYMso61sRfBn0BOBeY_SZ4JUXqMhZXb8w_89l8y8R6fAVfYvQVHNi_gLNsRT7qwh94dUUc_4L/s1600/scaled.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfYDQIx8lgMjQmumNd2dqSl__BQHRORovsnKZKDpsmTrGSr6rNbYuHqGcXubIF0wbs9NhYMso61sRfBn0BOBeY_SZ4JUXqMhZXb8w_89l8y8R6fAVfYvQVHNi_gLNsRT7qwh94dUUc_4L/s400/scaled.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633813880646040866" border="0" /></a>A couple of my MCP brothers joined up with us. We visited one of my favorite spots in San Diego, the Turf Club, for drinks and grilled steaks.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpY13MtXx5TN4D7R9pSNUozkAnX_O7f51XxDjZc7X5JINts_XPG3r5lgDmYq7wW5koeA4pX8nNxb7t0dpw7lOi1YA54zkNlYTx2C9RmrIKgTaHa-Dkn9XqPSkxzroMEglBkfvt-36Yrzn/s1600/IMG02210-20110723-2005.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpY13MtXx5TN4D7R9pSNUozkAnX_O7f51XxDjZc7X5JINts_XPG3r5lgDmYq7wW5koeA4pX8nNxb7t0dpw7lOi1YA54zkNlYTx2C9RmrIKgTaHa-Dkn9XqPSkxzroMEglBkfvt-36Yrzn/s400/IMG02210-20110723-2005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633837135444342594" border="0" /></a>We had a Polynesian feast at Bali Hai. Afterwards, we jumped in the hot tub and listened to the Fab Four (who were performing at our hotel) covering the Beatles. A Martin Denny or Dick Dale cover band would have been more appropriate. But nothing beats witnessing my MCP brother, The Preacher, get sentimental over John Lennon songs.<br /><br />When all was said and done, SDCC was productive and relaxing. We sold through most of the pre-sale copies of Atrum Secretum. It felt good not being completely tore up from the trip. We even swung by Tiki Highway at Don the Beachcombers on our way back for a kustom car/tiki art show.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxDPqYXBmAOnjME7n2HeaPXQVgqcRJBh-eGMpG-T0LvnAb8Mr5L8aEchk7ApFSHuxBwBv-6n679KNtCJh4JEa2dni-YSYOSfC4pq4oKfIJwCTYvVpFlQvEPdMxyQNsyR7JJjCzYgUq92ek/s1600/photo+1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxDPqYXBmAOnjME7n2HeaPXQVgqcRJBh-eGMpG-T0LvnAb8Mr5L8aEchk7ApFSHuxBwBv-6n679KNtCJh4JEa2dni-YSYOSfC4pq4oKfIJwCTYvVpFlQvEPdMxyQNsyR7JJjCzYgUq92ek/s400/photo+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633831701717909330" border="0" /></a>I hope I continue to be a guest at SDCC from time to time. I feel like there is a family there, the Society of Grave Robbers, that will always welcome me no matter where my life takes me. I look forward to the day I am on a panel joined by Guillermo Del Toro, co-director Mark Gustafson, Producer Allison Abatte and musicians Nick Cave and Warren Ellis talking about Pinocchio.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcSvnbMxZoV-lSh9bGV0uligcuXhiT7NuT7s9DEntr7mg_II_iBoZzJs-9dH50LArAyfsjPoL7ZnAqOY03umcDDXqa8shP7TVMCQZVkwOgHuZANY0KD23zVZ6vGxYcN8DsMeNKc8C1Kmn/s1600/IMG_1352.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcSvnbMxZoV-lSh9bGV0uligcuXhiT7NuT7s9DEntr7mg_II_iBoZzJs-9dH50LArAyfsjPoL7ZnAqOY03umcDDXqa8shP7TVMCQZVkwOgHuZANY0KD23zVZ6vGxYcN8DsMeNKc8C1Kmn/s400/IMG_1352.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633818331256239650" border="0" /></a><br />Be Grim!<br />Gris Grimly<br /><br />Thanks to photographer Mark Berry for supplying event photosGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-3571165537084259342011-04-08T11:49:00.000-07:002011-04-08T15:07:37.216-07:00Jaw DroppingYou know those moments that knock you back, relaxes the depressor anguli oris and unhinges the mandible, leaving it to hang like soggy pantyhose? That momentary lapse of time where, briefly, chemical synapses in your brain go into shock. What seems to last for eternity, but probably lasts for a fraction of a second (or what seems to last for a fraction of a second, but probably lasts for eternity). And when the static in your grey matter finally ceases, you blink and close your mouth which has been hanging open for god knows how long. That, my friend, is a jaw dropping experience, like the one I'm about to tell.<br /><br />Jonelle and I had been together for 5 years. After 5 years, a couple knows each other pretty well. When past stories come up, you laugh together because you've heard it before. You finish each others sentences and speak less because you've become telepathically linked. Hell. After 5 years, you've cried in front of each other, farted on each other and probably urinated by each other. The problem with a long term relationship is that you become comfortable around each other and life becomes insipid.<br /><br />One of the things that kept our life exciting was a 2 year old terrier named Toby. In the words of my mother: He's a pistol. Even though mornings didn't awaken with warm flesh and malodorous kisses anymore, they jolted with 20 pounds of pouncing fur and slobber. Weekends would become lethargic with the routine of pjs and a movie. But with the thrill of Toby, a game of cops and robbers would usually break out when the remote control was stolen and a chase ensued until someone dropped from exhaustion. Silent dinners became a rousing game of tug-of-war with a napkin, tablecloth or a piece of steak.<br /><br />One day I was home alone with Toby. I was doing research on Goggle while Toby was trying to instigate a game of fetch with a dried up pig ear. I'd become really good at appeasing the dog into thinking I was engaging in a game with him, when in fact, I was engaged in something else entirely different. I could play fetch with him without ever having to look away from my work. He brought the fetch to me, I grabbed what was in his mouth and threw it behind my back. Simple.<br /><br />Google is an amazing tool that has replaced research books entirely. At the touch of a keyboard, you have a dictionary, thesaurus, encyclopedia, maps, phone directory and more. The problem is, it is almost impossible to avoid the porn racket no matter what angle you take. You could be looking up "vintage cartoons" and come across an image of Minnie Mouse in a very flexible position exposing anatomy parts that look like black inky versions of a female human. It is not a good time to be a parent. Tik tik tik went little paws as Toby brought me the pig ear. I wrestled it from his mouth and tossed it behind my back.<br /><br />I was googling images for a fox. I was looking for furry mammals of the Canidae family, which are only 1:3 ratio for every image of Megan Fox which, although a furry mammal, is not part of the Canidae family whatsoever. Tik tik tik went little paws as Toby brought me the pig ear. I wrestled it from his mouth and tossed it behind my back.<br /><br />I scanned through image after image. Megan Fox hosing herself down. Megan Fox in her underwear. Red fox chasing a mouse. Megan Fox half naked in bed. Megan Fox showing off her mid-drift. Artic Fox curled up in the snow. Tik tik tik went little paws as Toby brought me the pig ear. I wrestled it from his mouth and tossed it behind my back.<br /><br />I continued my search through the few images of Canidae species and the vast images of Megan Fox. I got deeper and deeper into the bowels of google. Megan Fox. Megan Fox. Red Fox. Gray Fox. Tik tik tik went little paws as Toby brought me the pig ear. I wrestled it from his mouth and tossed it behind my back.<br /><br />One Fish. Two Fish. Red Fish. Blue Fish. Tik tik tik went little paws as Toby brought me the pig ear. I wrestled it from his mouth and tossed it behind my back.<br /><br />Then I saw it: An image that looked curiously identical to Jonelle...in her underwear. Tik tik tik went little paws as Toby brought me the pig ear. I wrestled it from his mouth and tossed it behind my back.<br /><br />I clicked on the image which opened up the site that I wished never existed. It was Jonelle. The image of her dressed in lingerie was the least scandalous in the photo album. Tik tik tik went little paws as Toby brought me the pig ear. This time he didn't let go of the pig ear.<br /><br />I continued to scroll through the images of my girlfriend's secret life like one of those animation books that come to life with a flip of the pages. Enter scantly clad female number 2. I continued to wrestle away the pig ear from Toby while glued to the screen.<br /><br />Toby got more aggressive. Or maybe I was getting more aggressive as my blood continued to boil. Image after image flashed by to the increasing beat of my heart. It escalated to Jonelle getting naked with another woman and doing things I didn't even know were possible. Snap.<br /><br />The freed object in my hand didn't feel too much like a pig ear. It was warm and wet. The static in my grey matter ceased. I blinked and closed my mouth. I turned to see Toby looking up at me with sad eyes. The furry skin on the bottom part of his mouth hanged down like soggy pantyhose, dripping with crimson red. I raised my hand to find his bloody jaw, firmly in my fist.<br /><br />That is my jaw dropping experience. Stay tuned to hear my hair raising one.<br /><br />Copyright © 2011 Gris GrimlyGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-7950058704054382142011-04-06T16:13:00.000-07:002011-07-29T13:18:19.463-07:00Casting Out EvilA few months back, I was asked to be part of a really fun group show called Hunters and Collectors: Shrunken Heads and other Oddities. Unfortunately, due to some contractual issues I had on my part, I had to decline. But before this all came about, I had already envisioned a painting and started it. I'm not the kind of person who leaves things unfinished, so I proceeded to finish the painting and I'm really glad I did.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbsy2w7atB4P10HBMlbPCWYGMdZMN9yTw-yxrH-b9-9M0iOdegpWUVNPegTgnaFbTgXgNfGuuKs61_bcXaKYSTxE5xzGx0ONopUpE0we9HoXwezRNJrBjEEJuquGv9ojyA3qBd0_Ia_wP/s1600/IMG_1184.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbsy2w7atB4P10HBMlbPCWYGMdZMN9yTw-yxrH-b9-9M0iOdegpWUVNPegTgnaFbTgXgNfGuuKs61_bcXaKYSTxE5xzGx0ONopUpE0we9HoXwezRNJrBjEEJuquGv9ojyA3qBd0_Ia_wP/s400/IMG_1184.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592617022871111154" border="0" /></a>The piece started out as a sketch on a slab of wood. There is no secret here. I don't use anything fancy. In fact, I usually use wood that was once a prop from one of my film projects. I don't like to waste and I'm anally resourceful like that.<br /><br />By the way, did you know that a person's anal retentive personalities are developed during the anal stage of infancy (which is toilet training). Supposedly, children develop this trait (or the opposite which is anal expulsive) depending on how the parents act and discipline during the toilet training period.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrihcC3192Y56l9-VmqA-f-WyYaycJumj47KXUELA_NNbgavGiWdLSJp9AEbGE0XY3kBz-ClwGJa9HgHJmkiKapPaDRwjrkjQmUSdlBBrM8Zm24SHgrr09IWe7CjA3M-CNbmi9PTc8t2R/s1600/IMG_1203.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrihcC3192Y56l9-VmqA-f-WyYaycJumj47KXUELA_NNbgavGiWdLSJp9AEbGE0XY3kBz-ClwGJa9HgHJmkiKapPaDRwjrkjQmUSdlBBrM8Zm24SHgrr09IWe7CjA3M-CNbmi9PTc8t2R/s400/IMG_1203.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592617485301364546" border="0" /></a>I went in and did my usual wash of color, blocking in shapes and building up from there. I wanted to focus on a subconscious narrative in this painting. In researching the shrunken head more thoroughly, I discovered a bit of the ritual behind shrunken heads that interested me. The Shuar people of the Amazon rain forest would make shrunken heads from victims in their battles to keep the victim's evil spirit (Muisak) at bay. The skull's would be removed and tossed into the river as an offering to the god Pani. Which is really just a big stupid snake we know as the anaconda.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTw_TIb43dFs5kzwJlvL3W5uPhYZpfJ1uLfl6Z9wA7nAz2kPHp6KaFRJRBDSZFp4bE5snDb8FT_dFGmt0AgHul0anekZ5C8eN3a2mzWQjpnr-fg6A29BXZmRw4gAeydwt7y_N0ER4xL6yo/s1600/IMG_1229.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTw_TIb43dFs5kzwJlvL3W5uPhYZpfJ1uLfl6Z9wA7nAz2kPHp6KaFRJRBDSZFp4bE5snDb8FT_dFGmt0AgHul0anekZ5C8eN3a2mzWQjpnr-fg6A29BXZmRw4gAeydwt7y_N0ER4xL6yo/s400/IMG_1229.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592617748066635826" border="0" /></a>I wanted to add influences from other cultures and regions to give the piece a universal islander feel. I added some influence from pop and car kulture by incorporating some pinstriping into the face painting influences from the Shuar and Papua New Guinea tribes. Some Polynesian influence is reflected with the addition of the plumeria flower. In Hawaiian culture, the plumeria represents life and beauty. A theme that has always been in my art is contrasts and duality between life and death/beauty and ugly.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsHqGdXr0IsbR1BVhcDnpg4676WWJcKARYRJ4G0F6k57wGUK0cwwePI94a7nds3cb18VBTQWwJ930mG0OWjCZcKKgwfjBwnsx6ozVzvCeAUqyEfpa9uNZNSf2UogRfGJ7b8ZQAx6p0utoO/s1600/IMG_1235.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsHqGdXr0IsbR1BVhcDnpg4676WWJcKARYRJ4G0F6k57wGUK0cwwePI94a7nds3cb18VBTQWwJ930mG0OWjCZcKKgwfjBwnsx6ozVzvCeAUqyEfpa9uNZNSf2UogRfGJ7b8ZQAx6p0utoO/s400/IMG_1235.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592618018454244354" border="0" /></a>At first, I wanted to go with white plumeria, but overall, they became a distraction to the narrative of the story. They should accent the painting, not become the painting. So I experimented with other colors until I came up with a nice purple that worked well with the composition. I also added beads and shells that pull the painting together.<br /><br />There you have it..."Casting Out Evil"Gris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-49130734894683552592011-03-14T09:30:00.000-07:002011-04-06T17:33:07.310-07:00CardiomegalyNancy had visited the hospital multiple times describing the same tightness in the chest. She felt suffocated. She felt like a tube of Pillsbury crescent dough was packed into her ribcage and with the twist of her torso, she might burst open oozing flaky goodness.<br /><br />Being only twenty-five years old, the doctors didn't take her very seriously in the cardiology department. She tested in prime health and showed no signs of heart disease. So they would just give her a children's Tylenol, tell her it was stress, and send her on her way.<br /><br />But Nancy didn't have a stressful life. In fact, her life was perfect. Her job was sufficient but enjoyable. She worked as a receptionist for a booming internet search engine, Whaazow; The sister company to the multi-billion dollar person search engine, Whoozow. It was a calm environment that practically ran itself. Even though work started at 10, she was often fifteen minutes to a half hour late and that was tolerated. Every Friday was luau day where everyone would wear Hawaiian shirts and tropical drinks were served at four.<br /><br />She had a college degree from tech school and planned on moving up at Whaazow once she received her masters degree. But she really wasn't fueled by career or money.<br /><br />She had a hairless cat that she loved very much. She named him Groucho Marx due to the patterns that blackened his pink skin below the nose and on the eye brows in the perfect resemblance to Groucho's characteristics.<br /><br />She lived with her boyfriend, Randell, whom she loved in extreme amounts and he loved her equally. In fact, they were one of those couples who are sickening to be around because they loved each other so much. And it seemed like the more time passed, the more in love they grew.<br /><br />One Saturday night, they were watching an 80s love comedy (their favorite film genre) when Nancy started to feel an awkward pain in her stomach. Randell was unaware. Other than pausing for a short moment, she ignored the sharp prodding feeling and continued to eat popcorn and laugh, hoping that it would go away.<br /><br />The feeling went away momentarily and the 80s "getting ready for the dance" montage continued. But shortly after, the pain came back. This time, she clinched at the gnawing in her intestines. Randell noticed her uncomfortability, and turned away from the climatic moment at the dance (will she go with the nerd that she loves or the hunky jock that she's always fantasized about). "Are you okay?"<br /><br />Nancy couldn't respond. The pain was too much. Holding her chest, she rolled off the couch onto the floor amongst the popcorn victims of suicide leaps. She tightened up into a vomiting ball like a potato bug diseased with insecticide. Green pea soup poured out of her mouth with chewed up popcorn kernels riding out on the rapids.<br /><br />She rolled over onto her back and all was silent. Randell yelled for a response "Nancy!" Her lifeless body stared up at the ceiling with empty eyes. The only thing that came out of her mouth was a final green drop, sliding down the side of her cheek. Randell stood up and stared at the lifeless carcass of his sweetheart. What to do. What to do.<br /><br />Then, with a burst of blood, her stomach popped open as a bloody muscular mass raised it's head out of the cavity. The mouth of the superior vena cava lashed for air with sharp pointy teeth of bone. The throbbing beast, the size of a mature badger, tumbled out of the empty shell and onto the floor. It had devoured everything inside her torso. It crawled towards Randell using aortas and arteries in movements resembling an octopus on the ocean floor.<br /><br />Everything turned out okay in the 80s. The nerd got the girl, the girl discovered that beauty is on the inside, and the jock was extremely embarrassed to be rejected. Randell stumbled back against the wall, but he too would soon meet his fate to a monster that was created by the power of love.<br /><br />Copyright © 2011 Gris GrimlyGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-90956056414343810382011-02-28T15:05:00.000-08:002011-03-01T11:34:38.494-08:00STICK AROUNDI don't frequent theaters like I should. Throughout the entire 12 months of 2010, I experienced three movies on the big screen. They were "Avatar", "Crazy Heart" and "Best Worst Movie". So far, this year I have seen one (Rare Exports). I can make assumptions why this is. Most films I don't care to see and definitely don't think they are worth the price of a theater ticket. But there are many films that I find to be an amazing experience. I guess the excuse for me missing these have more to do with my own quirky personality traits. I prefer to not go out. I don't like being among large numbers of strangers. I forget things. It usually hits me at once to see a pile of films that I missed in the theater. That time is now.<br /><br />"I'm Still Around" was among the many great, good and mediocre pictures that I brought home from the video store (Yes. I still rent movies from a local independent video store and have not succumbed to the world of Netflix. Nor will I ever). I'm not surprised at the mixed reviews and reactions it has received. But I think it's brilliant.<br /><br />A film by Casey Affleck, I'm Still Around is a mockumentary that takes jabs at our many societal inadequacies. If you haven't heard of it, you must recall the controversy involved with it. At the end of 2008, Joaquin Phoenix made a stunning announcement to the press. After a huge award winning career as an actor, the bearded Joaquin mentioned that he was retiring from film to pursue a career as a hip hop artist.<br /><br />We then watched him self destruct for two years in media appearances from The Late Show, TMZ and every news station in between. He became overweight and unkempt in his appearance. He grew out his hair and beard, which became a tangled mess, and dressed in sloppy rags. The few glimpses we saw of his hip hop career were a train wreck reflecting an incoherent and amateur lout.<br /><br />Then, in 2010, after the release of the film I'm Still Here, Joaquin made another appearance on The Late Show, to disclose that his behaviorism was due to a role he was portraying in the film. It was all a hoax. Why do people hate the film so much? Because the film shows a dark side of our society that we are all a part of. And when people leave a movie, they don't like feeling like shit.<br /><br />That being said, I don't think it is a great film. But the genius behind it lies in the originality of it's approach and not it's perfection as a whole. Far beyond Sacha Baron Cohen, Jackass or Tom Green, Joaquin played a role for the entire world that lasted two years and endured much scrutiny to prove a point. What was the point? It says many things. I'm not a film critic and have no intentions on telling you what the film was about, why it was successful or why it failed. But I came out of it with two thoughts that really stuck with me.<br /><br />First, is American's delusion of reality. This is not anything new, but our bases of comparison has become so convoluted. We live in an entertainment world where the majority of television is either reality shows or shows imitating reality. We've been completely duped by filmmakers and networks to accept these shows as absolute. But they are as scripted and thought out as The Cosby Show. The ghost hunters take smoke breaks during peaking supernatural activity. Survivors out in the wild are well taken care of by craft services. Talent competitions are navigated by scouts and agencies. The president finds himself in office regardless of the popular vote. Oh wait...that last one actually is reality. It is only because this garbage is shoved down our throats around the clock, that a filmmaker could actually achieve such a grand hoax and get away with it. We don't know what's real and what's fake. That is why America sat and watched with apathetic expressions as the twin towers collapsed. It all looks the same.<br /><br />Comedians Sacha Baron Cohen, Tom Green and Johnny Knoxville will develop a character unknown to the world to capture unprepared audiences in a candid camera trick. But between takes, they can take off the mask and go back to their lives. Joaquin didn't create a character. He put himself and his reputation on the line for two years. Some of us suspected tomfoolery afoot and questioned whether it was a hoax. Most of us bought it completely. But all of us where taken for the ride.<br /><br />Secondly, and similarly to the first, was that we as a society applaud mediocrity. This shocks the hell out of me. We see this in the film when Joaquin has his hip hop performances. The audience is packed with Sycophants nodding their heads to the beat, snapping pictures with their phones and braying like sheep. We will applaud poor music, incoherent films and bad acting if they are created by a star. Average becomes the accepted.<br /><br />Now that mediocrity becomes a subject of praise, it opens the arena for more clutter. We've brought talented stars down with interactive networks like twitter and in their place, we have risen the youtube discoveries. Little boys who smear make-up on their face and cry over celebrity drama are getting record deals. Commercials are being handed to individuals who perform parlor tricks (that in the past would only receive an applaud by friends and family during the holidays). Parents are noticing these crass opportunities and have risen up to exploit their own children on the web.<br /><br />Where will it all lead?<br />"I'm Still Here" was produced by "They Are Going to Kill Us Productions". This brings to mind a blog I posted a couple years ago during the hype of Michael Jackson's death called <a href="http://grisgrimly.blogspot.com/2009/06/kill-pop-stars.html">KILL THE POP STAR</a>. The theme here isn't so much that "they" (the media, the sycophants, the public) are killing the celebrities, but that we as a society must kill or abolish what we have created the celebrity to be. Let them be an inspiration and a source to aspire to be. Just let them be.Gris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-24882668162750205932011-02-22T11:08:00.000-08:002014-04-23T17:46:18.970-07:00THE STORY OF PINOCCHIOLess than a week ago, Guillermo Del Toro announced to Deadline that we are taking Pinocchio out to the studios. If you haven't been exposed to this announcement, you can read it here:<br />
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<a href="http://www.deadline.com/2011/02/guillermo-del-toro-starting-stop-motion-pinocchio-feature-with-henson-and-pathe/">DEADLINE LINK</a><br />
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Since then, this news has begun to unwind like a jiving mummy on the dance floor. Film sites including horror, geek and general Hollywood enthusiast websites have done spin-offs from the original article. Here's a little background on where this all started:<br />
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I came up with the idea to make Pinocchio into a stop motion film about seven or eight years ago. A group of friends and I started to put together a little pitch to present the idea to studios. At the time I had no interest in directing and one of my choices was to ask Guillermo Del Toro if he would be interested.<br />
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As fate would have it, I received a call from a gallery that was selling artwork from my Pinocchio book. They relayed to me that Guillermo Del Toro was just in the gallery and purchased a piece of Pinocchio art. I said "You have to be kidding me! Can you set up a lunch meeting with him?" They did. And in a couple days I was eating giant shrimp the size of rats (heads and all) across from GDT while presenting him my film.<br />
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This was before the first Hellboy movie came out (so a long time ago). I told him I wanted to make Pinocchio into a crude stop motion film much like my eastern European influences. Jan Svankmajer is one of my favorite filmmakers. If you are familiar with his work or that of the Quay Brothers, you can somewhat see how I envision Pinocchio. I told him about the color palette, tone and texture the film would have. Then I asked him if he would direct it. But due to my enthusiasm and vision for the film, he could see that i didn't need a director...I needed a producer.<br />
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He said he would produce it. Shortly after that, I was called into the Jim Henson company to meet with a producer there, only to find out that they were interested in turning my Pinocchio book into a film as well. I said, "That's funny. I just met with Guillermo Del Toro about the same thing and he's interested in producing it.<br />
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Things moved slowly for years, but moved nonetheless. I was working with another animation Director, Adam Parish King and a few writers at the time. But it was about two years ago that things really moved along. Guillermo wasn't happy with the treatments that he read. He didn't feel that they captured the true nature of the book. And after meeting with him, I agreed. He brought on a writer, Matthew Robbins, whom he has worked with before. This ended up being the push that got us back on track.<br />
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In the spring of 2010, three things happened. First, I went to New Zealand to work with GDT and Matthew on the treatment. This was a rough week, but after a few days of pounding out ideas, we created a springboard for the script. Secondly, I was teamed up with an experienced animation director, who would direct along side me. This was Mark Gustafson who worked on Fantastic Mr. Fox. The two of us got along great (for a couple of cynical old bats) and shared a cohesive vision. Third (and most importantly) we received a development deal from French Studio, Pathe.<br />
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This development money was used to build a team of artists and place them on the Jim Henson Company lot. Together, we developed the look of the film during three months of the summer.<br />
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Now, onto the studios...<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsV2guxo7xAu8QsgWPFxwb_LwmZUrlk19vREyadFZDZTx2lEDO-ABMbjZntyldDlxF5FDLBcLB4FFnf9ZRL8Q5CcNdWO9bdrF0eS3KK3jtM1R1rEHjIL7B97jhMpA-l0QMz7Yv0q2Cg60s/s1600/90ixe.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsV2guxo7xAu8QsgWPFxwb_LwmZUrlk19vREyadFZDZTx2lEDO-ABMbjZntyldDlxF5FDLBcLB4FFnf9ZRL8Q5CcNdWO9bdrF0eS3KK3jtM1R1rEHjIL7B97jhMpA-l0QMz7Yv0q2Cg60s/s400/90ixe.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576676057248634066" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Gris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-67473449618711046642011-02-21T21:24:00.000-08:002011-02-21T22:44:34.524-08:00FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE GRAVEYARD...I was asked to design a poster for burlesque performer/producer Victoria Vengeance, to sell as a limited edition silkscreen print. The only instruction was that it should be themed around a recent photo shoot Victoria had with the Munster Koach. If those two words don't immediately ring familiarity, you either don't know the name or have not been exposed to television for the past 50 years.<br /><br />The Munster Koach was the family car that was used in the old 60s television sitcom, The Munsters. Awww...now you know what I'm talking about. The infamous hot rod (cut from a Model T frame) was designed and built by famed Hollywood customizer George Barris.<br /><br />I'm known for illustrating many things (mostly monsters) but hot rods are not one of them. I'm a car enthusiast. I love old classic cars, hot rods, dragsters, rat rods, choppers and bobbers. I would be a happy man if I opened the garage and saw a 60s Lincoln Continental with suicide doors, a Cadillac Hearse and a custom bobber inviting me for a joyride. It just hasn't been a theme in my artwork.<br /><br />When it comes to car culture, I gravitate towards the monster hot rod scene (Ed Roth, Odd Rods, Weird-Ohs and Nutty Mads). When I am given a job to illustrate a vehicle, I give it the same warped abstraction I give my characters. I finished up the piece, inspired by Ed Roth and the Monster Hot Rod scene as well as vintage racing ads and exploitation posters like Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill!, The Mini Skirt Mob and Drag Strip Riot. Here's the concoction that spewed out:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Uywpstg0htyAM8C9PxiLZsqeRWzz_NbvsBMcYD81JYofUKUCD5rxnPA_2ik9hCzrPcWwrIl2iVqPtY4V1errH9-L_jLz9pDTmx9Eyz2NVyyL7l7-RDFRI79ugVXqUA8QX5aO22QePJ7Z/s1600/munsterkoach_poster.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Uywpstg0htyAM8C9PxiLZsqeRWzz_NbvsBMcYD81JYofUKUCD5rxnPA_2ik9hCzrPcWwrIl2iVqPtY4V1errH9-L_jLz9pDTmx9Eyz2NVyyL7l7-RDFRI79ugVXqUA8QX5aO22QePJ7Z/s400/munsterkoach_poster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576399999743921218" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Copyright 2011, Gris GrimlyGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-31905656018725791762011-02-12T12:25:00.000-08:002011-02-12T13:23:34.306-08:00INLE PAINTING PROGRESS PART 2In my previous posting "INLE PAINTING PROGRESS PART 1", I explained how I work when it comes to painting with watercolor. In this posting, not only will I go into detail with how I work when it comes to inking a painting, you will also get a sneak peak at the final art piece I did for Greg "CRAOLA" Simkins' INLE show.<br /><br />After I mopped up the bloody mess I made painting the piece, I sat back and watched some horror films on VHS. It's a good way to unwind and clear the brain for the night so I can start fresh the next morning. In this case, I only made it through 20 minutes of a horrid 1988 film called Blue Monkey. I'm not sure where they got the name from because there isn't even a monkey in the film - Just men in giant rubber insect suits running through the halls waving their arms around. Usually these types of parlor tricks highly entertain me. But this just put me to sleep.<br /><br />Freshly rested, I rose from my crypt to finish up my Inle painting. I sat at my desk with a cup of black coffee to observed the chaos presented to me on the canvas. I asked myself, "What was I thinking". I often feel this way looking at my work the next day with a new pair of eyes. This is never cause for alarm because the painting is never finished until it is inked.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQBQJ34t6Qdk_4vY_faVDil2XRhhuvhRz_H_4GRLmPE8lOornrxe1jiWfb8wU3FDsveGo0I1xcRAy2dVKAw9LS00bL6-QFVYDIv4GhQZQHzjXN-NCuL1P8rq7coPakyYmUZwM1xGNOidn/s1600/IMG_1158.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQBQJ34t6Qdk_4vY_faVDil2XRhhuvhRz_H_4GRLmPE8lOornrxe1jiWfb8wU3FDsveGo0I1xcRAy2dVKAw9LS00bL6-QFVYDIv4GhQZQHzjXN-NCuL1P8rq7coPakyYmUZwM1xGNOidn/s400/IMG_1158.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572908169513001906" border="0" /></a>First, I approach inking with a brush and black Indian ink. I have found a liking for a Windsor Newton brand that has a spider on the packaging. But that is my personal preference and to each their own. All ink brands react differently to the surfaces they are painted on. I use a brush and a variety of wet and dry brushing effects to place the ink down where my instincts guide me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixU6Vc6H6Ybmtv59-aJJ9NN4SsoX-OjpqZnk5GnDtsYBgehis-ztEU64sQkrHjOCuYc_KY3AHH-9_qZCb2l6VOEkD-B2MKL0fxW-vuLeDXRPoSfAi0gB-zU1GWn3B8Vj_cyucWpnsWveq0/s1600/IMG_1160.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixU6Vc6H6Ybmtv59-aJJ9NN4SsoX-OjpqZnk5GnDtsYBgehis-ztEU64sQkrHjOCuYc_KY3AHH-9_qZCb2l6VOEkD-B2MKL0fxW-vuLeDXRPoSfAi0gB-zU1GWn3B8Vj_cyucWpnsWveq0/s400/IMG_1160.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572909276041927378" border="0" /></a>Secondly, I go in and capture all the line work. I start out with quill pens and nubs. Quill pens can be used for other reasons then just stabbing people in the neck. I have discovered that they work great for getting a variety of line widths with an organic feel. Once I lay down the thicker lines with a common homicidal weapon, I go in and capture tighter chaotic scribbles with a mechanical pen. I get asked what kind of mechanic pens I use all the time. Take note so I don't have to repeat myself - I USE RAPIDOGRAPH. These allow me to exercise my OCD impulses on the finishing touches of the piece. After I'm done scribbling all over my art, I step back and come to find that it looks nothing like what I had set out to accomplish.<br /><br />Eureka!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZZcyhRKu3Gr9l7baGVuQULOU3LdfASbbSYgwUt-zNkPGV59I44jjXG1dymohninxeJTSe58-RkXQb2A1WfhzbCU2K0iTpNjWzX_8-W66S1b4Stg2-4T8-GZyscz7AcoDOApyDqprdy-1/s1600/IMG_1159.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZZcyhRKu3Gr9l7baGVuQULOU3LdfASbbSYgwUt-zNkPGV59I44jjXG1dymohninxeJTSe58-RkXQb2A1WfhzbCU2K0iTpNjWzX_8-W66S1b4Stg2-4T8-GZyscz7AcoDOApyDqprdy-1/s400/IMG_1159.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572912575076190226" border="0" /></a>Okay, so it's not the best picture of my Inle painting. It's a little off center and my desk lamp got in the way. I guess you will have to come out to the show to actually see what the final piece looks like.<br /><br />The INLE show will be March 12, 2011 at Gallery 1988 located on 7020 Melrose Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90038.<br /><br />Copyright 2011, Gris GrimlyGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-23801284624938371672011-02-11T09:46:00.000-08:002011-02-11T10:57:23.767-08:00INLE PAINTING PROGRESS PART 1This blog was set up as a fitness gym to exercise the gray muscle in my skull with creative writing in forms of short stories, opinions and criticisms. But as an artist, I feel that occasionally it should be used as an informative or instructional column in regards to my illustrative work.<br /><br />Almost a year ago, I was asked to partake in a group show curated by artist Greg "CRAOLA" Simkins. I've known of Greg's work for a decade now, through my friendship with Alex Pardee. I remember our early career days of zines and little back alley art shows in San Fransisco. Every comic convention was like a reunion. When I finally met Greg, I really took to his genuine demeanor. There are people I like to see reach success and others I would rather see fed through a corpse grinder and made into cat food. It's been nice to see these two deserving artists move forward in their accomplishments.<br /><br />Here are some selections from Greg's letter of invitation:<br /><br />When I was 12, my Grandfather bought me the book Watership Down to read on a road trip we took together. Since then, I have read this book and its' sequel numerous times. The characters and the struggles in this book were more about society and conflict than the rabbits used to portray these things. The story sparked my imagination and it was this book that fueled my obsession with using rabbits as a tool of art. One rabbit in particular stood out...the Black Rabbit of Inle.<br /><br />I am inviting you to take part in a group exhibition that I am curating because I really admire your work and would love to see your take on something that has been such a big part of my artistic journey. I am asking for one piece that is your interpretation of the Black Rabbit of Inle, which can be literal or loose. Also, feel free to paint from our own memories of Watership Down if that grabs you. I appreciate your consideration and would be honored by your participation.<br /><br />Yours truly,<br />Greg "Craola" Simkins<br /><br />So naturally, I agreed to be a part of the show, even though I have not agreed to any other gallery commitments for the past year due to my involvement in the production of Pinocchio. I've ventured away from my illustrative comfort zone, painting with acrylics on wood opposed to my usual medium of choice - Watercolor and ink. But for this piece, I thought I would bring it back to my roots and express this piece the way I am best known and comfortable.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmXR28yCnImtWvekBF5VQGw1-ZXMOAxkuzvBCjgqPfm3_KFwTOiQFT1giXP5XbwnVpJQDNmGW2-36g5aCtkxawbwcOp50PbC4lde9Kunu0kz8TCIblhWaFsH7DxwmDXiwfSVooHnrzMF6/s1600/IMG_0873.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmXR28yCnImtWvekBF5VQGw1-ZXMOAxkuzvBCjgqPfm3_KFwTOiQFT1giXP5XbwnVpJQDNmGW2-36g5aCtkxawbwcOp50PbC4lde9Kunu0kz8TCIblhWaFsH7DxwmDXiwfSVooHnrzMF6/s400/IMG_0873.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572501148434442658" border="0" /></a>I started with a rough sketch of my interpretation of Inle on watercolor paper. I get asked this question all the time, so please take note so I don't have to repeat myself. I USE MECHANICAL PENCILS. No special brand. I like the precision I can get with a diameter of lead that never seems to get dull.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjawq7W2uJpExm02vWwM3FTa4Tg_cgBe-F3YHt9X0Q7M7Lu1PwaO0wA7kGMab39uMgaxzhZUkAEAuoWXGKf68i-mVoyeioVaVByhAAxmqMP4gOF7ZajUHBDGTZmpnTU5whgzhFICk8wzW2q/s1600/IMG_0874.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjawq7W2uJpExm02vWwM3FTa4Tg_cgBe-F3YHt9X0Q7M7Lu1PwaO0wA7kGMab39uMgaxzhZUkAEAuoWXGKf68i-mVoyeioVaVByhAAxmqMP4gOF7ZajUHBDGTZmpnTU5whgzhFICk8wzW2q/s400/IMG_0874.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572501982492680450" border="0" /></a>After that I will throw down an overall tone. This is usually a nicotine wash that I like and prefer to use on almost all my watercolors. It gives the painting that dingy smokers feel that I remember my uncle's house having or a seedy bar. Then I'll go in and paint in other shapes, usually starting with my darkest color which is a black coffee soot.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTFsEuEEDvVBqe0R07NTvj0mvzMXQQVS4Sg-V4C8xiTJedBvGvEayFQ5qgaiyx5tPhyphenhyphenAoRRJstFEpyRwDFDYjAjOzZc6O5sFVZ_Kid2bBJWohQCggt8x2E7cY6VJe4LqSykCMSdff75VC7/s1600/168299_10150137106630962_56134890961_8158825_240784_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTFsEuEEDvVBqe0R07NTvj0mvzMXQQVS4Sg-V4C8xiTJedBvGvEayFQ5qgaiyx5tPhyphenhyphenAoRRJstFEpyRwDFDYjAjOzZc6O5sFVZ_Kid2bBJWohQCggt8x2E7cY6VJe4LqSykCMSdff75VC7/s400/168299_10150137106630962_56134890961_8158825_240784_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572502967514118514" border="0" /></a>Once that's done you can really see the negative and positive shapes pop out. Then I'll throw in some other colors - Like blood red. I like blood. It cuts the sweetness of my coffee in the morning. People ask what I use for watercolors. I usually find myself painting with Windsor Newton.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheM5PGZyOFXfBMrZUdrDR4vm-Wk6Jw85HNfW0ABdzDgUfw7lhyphenhyphenOsGm84qLmTvigHoAXX4eLY959dJsKWZa4dbd9qOxgdeQPlkhb9jSREPgZZzs6QFCTlxoupKLz3U9VSdpXf_ll_Qwamr5/s1600/180438_10150137205965962_56134890961_8159759_1011785_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheM5PGZyOFXfBMrZUdrDR4vm-Wk6Jw85HNfW0ABdzDgUfw7lhyphenhyphenOsGm84qLmTvigHoAXX4eLY959dJsKWZa4dbd9qOxgdeQPlkhb9jSREPgZZzs6QFCTlxoupKLz3U9VSdpXf_ll_Qwamr5/s400/180438_10150137205965962_56134890961_8159759_1011785_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572503688263290466" border="0" /></a>One of the last things I do in the form of painting is add little touches of splatter. Sometimes this is an accident when a cut to a victim's throat too close to the painting ends up spraying everywhere. But I usually look at the piece and say to myself "That works lovely."<br /><br />At this point, the painting is complete. It is time for me to move onto the inking stage. This is the stage that I have not yet started on with my INLE painting. So you will have to check back with INLE PAINTING PROGRESS PART 2 to see how that all turns out. I'm curious myself.<br /><br />Mark your calendars. The INLE show will be March 12, 2011 at Gallery 1988 located on 7020 Melrose Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90038.<br /><br />Copyright 2011, Gris GrimlyGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-87279825552549538972011-02-06T18:30:00.000-08:002011-02-11T10:56:28.994-08:00THE PIGS TOOK MY BROTHER!The sun crawled away from us behind the black Nevada mountains as we drove towards an alcoholic sky mixed with Grapefruit, mandarin and Hpnotiq. Although the 3 of us were poker faced, I knew we were all shitting bricks. I've made many trips to Vegas, but only 1 of those trips made me an outlaw.<br /><br />Jared was doing good. He drove the 20-year-old Honda steady and always 2 miles an hour below the speed limit. Both hands on the steering wheel-10 and 2. "Slow and steady wins the race" they say. But not too slow. You don't want to look suspicious or draw attention to yourself. His pink lucky rabbit's foot swung from the ignition. I'm not sure how lucky a rabbit's foot really is. It didn't bring the rabbit too much luck.<br /><br />No one said a word. I wasn't wondering what Jared and Nick were thinking. My mind was recalling our drive to Vegas 2 days ago. That's when this bad beat story all began.<br /><br />- - -<br /><br />"We're all made up of energy," continued Nick as we passed Whiskey Petes on the 15 north, "which gives off heat. Call it energy or a soul or whatever. But it is what makes us alive."<br /><br />The 3 of us were on our way to the neon oasis with pocket cash to burn. I needed to get away for a while. My brother died a few months ago and the days of mourning were hard on me. It beat me down like I'd been dusted off at the tables. I needed an escape and there's no better escape then the city of sin.<br /><br />The thrill of arriving in Vegas helps the 4 hour drive from Los Angeles go by faster than chips at the roulette table. Somewhere around Barstow California our conversations started getting deep, talking about life's great meaning, God and the afterlife. Somewhere around crossing the state line it got weird with talks of psychics and reincarnation.<br /><br />"When we die," Nick carried on, "our energy leaves our body and rises up to the skies. There it intermingles with other energy before being placed into another body. So when we meet someone that seems familiar to us, it's because that person is made up of some of your previous life's energy."<br /><br />I thought about this for a minute and then replied, "How does that work with the world's population ever growing. There's not enough souls to recycle into all the new babies being born."<br /><br />Jared and Nick were stumped so I continued my thought.<br /><br />"Maybe that's why kids today are so apathetic and uninspired. After generations and generations, the strength of a soul becomes diluted in order to spread throughout the growing population. It's like cutting blow with adulterants so you have twice as much to sell."<br /><br />Nick replies, "I never thought about that."<br /><br />"So what you're saying," chimed Jared, "is that kids today don't have a complete soul. That their souls are laced to fill the human shells. What are they laced with?"<br /><br />"Air," I said naturally.<br /><br />As we weaved our way throughout the dark Nevada landscape, we came to see a glorious beacon shooting out into the starry skies. No, this was not a UFO drawing up subjects for anal probing. Nor was it a soul leaving an empty shell to join up with the many other souls floating around in space, get "stepped on" with air and recycled into a newly born baby. It was the Luxor - That grand 20th century pyramid saying welcome to Las Vegas. This is the last warning you get to turn around while you still have money.<br /><br />I'm not going to go into the details of what went on in Las Vegas. It's not any different than all the other stories you've read - The ups, the downs, the debauchery, the flowing alcohol and the waking up and saying "What happened". But there is one incident that holds relevance to my story. Unfortunately, my "What happened" scenario didn't involve intoxication to hold as an excuse.<br /><br />It was Saturday, our coming home day. We never come home on Sunday because every other looser comes home on Sunday and the drive takes twice as long. We packed our bags and scanned our hotel room 1 last time, making sure that there were no cell phone cables or other important items lost amidst the rocky landscape of empty booze bottles.<br /><br />With our hazy-throbbing eyes behind dark lenses, we moseyed through the casino to the check-out. That is when it happened. If we had left straight away then, all the debauchery that occurred wouldn't have amounted to anything more than every other visit to Vegas. But I had to see her...and him.<br /><br />Jared was taking care of our room, arguing about some charges that were made that nobody recalls it's whereabouts because we were all probably so blackout drunk we don't remember. When it comes to nights of drinking, I was on the downswing. The probing in my brain was a constant reminder of all the drinks I forgot I consumed. I found myself in a zone, scanning the casino for any last opportunities. The cruel city left me with a single green chip. I was most likely going to lose it on a bet before making it to the cage.<br /><br />That's when I saw her. That blond bombshell singer - You know the one. She was walking through the casino with a pot belly pig on a pink rhinestone leash. The triangle shaped shades concealed most of her face. But her tight leopard print dress drew all eyes from their playing tables. I don't really give a lick about the diva. I could care less about celebrities. It was the pig that fascinated me. There was something familiar about him.<br /><br />I made my way through the casino and stood at the cage. There wasn't a line. But when is there ever that many people who have money to collect from a casino. Nobody ever notices but if you stand and observe the cashier long enough, more money comes in then they ever pay out. I was distracted by the pig only feet away. He sat next to the poker table as his master was firing bullets left and right. It was then, that I saw in his eyes, the soul of my brother.<br /><br />I know. You're thinking I'm crazy. But I was certain it was my brother. We were inseparable. I knew that look. And using the theory of reincarnation it could be possible. This small pig couldn't be more than a few months old. My brother died just over 4 months ago. Could it be?<br /><br />"Can I help you!" croaked the cashier probably for the 4th or 5th time. I snapped alert. But when players' eyes, including the blond bombshell, turned to look at me I panicked. I said something like no and hurried away.<br /><br />We hit the casino buffet for brunch before the long trip back. Nick went on about a psychic he met who worked as a parking attendant in his office building.<br /><br />"One day, I took his offer to meet up for coffee. He told me that he travels the world, taking on odd jobs here and there. After he meets the person he was destined to enlighten, and feels his purpose is complete and moves on to the next place. I was that person."<br /><br />I couldn't stop thinking about how my brother was somehow now reincarnated into a pot belly pig owned by the Billboard chart-topping pop star. And now with talks about destiny and purpose and serendipity, I couldn't help but feel that I was here for a reason.<br /><br />I don't know why events played out like they did. I guess it was just meant to be. But after brunch, I had to take a major dump. Jared and Nick decided to take the luggage to the car and pick me up at the front of the casino. As I waited for them, dissolving a stick of tobacco into my lungs, I watched the valets do their business. They ran about like rabbits, swiftly getting the new Saturday victims into the casino to lose their cash as quickly as possible. That is efficiency.<br /><br />In complete synchronicity, Jared pulled up with the Honda, I put my cigarette out on the desert scorched concrete and that woman walked up to my side with my brother. I slowly scanned up to see her distracted at removing a cigarette from her Gucci bag. Jared and Nick waited with the engine running. I glanced over at my brother sitting there with a bulging belly. I swear he winked at me with a burlesque dancer's eyelash. PING<br /><br />It all happened so quickly. I pulled the trigger. I grabbed my brother, knocking her Gucci bag out on the ground, and jumped into the car like I was throwing pocket rockets. I yelled "Go!" and, as if planned, Jared reacted. Hands on the steel wheel, he flipped a bitch and we were on the 15 south before she even noticed her purse wasn't the only thing that slipped out of her hands.<br /><br />- - -<br /><br />The sun ran away from us, showing disdain. Either it was evading our company or helping our getaway by concealing us in the dark. Nick turned off the radio because the consistent news alerts involving pig robbers was putting us on edge. He then broke the silence.<br /><br />"What the hell are you doing?"<br /><br />"This is my brother."<br /><br />Everyone looked over at the content pig, concealed under my jacket grunting up a storm.<br /><br />"What are you talking about?"<br /><br />"I realized in that moment that the reason I came to Las Vegas was to rescue my brother who was reincarnated into this pig."<br /><br />Jared was obviously not okay with this. "Do you no how stupid that sounds?"<br /><br />It doesn't matter how stupid it sounded, because we were quickly approaching the agricultural check point. The thing about leaving Las Vegas is you are always so hung over you never remember that you have to go through an agricultural check point to get back home. This usually doesn't effect you if you are in a car. They only stop trucks and larger vehicles. But due to the recent events of wanted criminals escaping southbound on the 15, the searches applied to everyone.<br /><br />We quickly got stuck in a gridlock moving at the pace of a slot club member. I realized the stakes were high and there was no turning back. Arguments having to do with "accessory to a crime" came to a climax and then settled down as we inched closer to the guard stand. Can you blame them. I was the fish at the table and they got a raw deal.<br /><br />We all calmed down and concluded that it was a "no win" situation, but if we played it cool we could possibly hold our own. I put the pig under my feet and covered him with a jacket. These weren't the usual minimum wagers at the check point. They brought in the state troopers. And they were mean.<br /><br />The car ahead of us was getting their trunk checked as an overweight overfed desert pig approached our Honda. Jared rolled down the window, and poker faced asked. "What's the problem officer."<br /><br />The pig wasn't being friendly. He asked us to pop the trunk as he shined his flashlight around in the car. My black denim jacket surprisingly concealed our loot. The bumping of the car was clearly an intense anal search of the '91 Honda Civic. With nothing but smoke-soiled alcohol-soaked clothes to convict us of having a good time, the pig slammed down the trunk.<br /><br />This was the moment that they walk by and say, "You are free to go." Only, as the pig was passing by the window, my brother broke his cover by asking me if it was clear to come out in Vietnamese Pig.<br /><br />That was the final hand. Sometimes you know when to fold em and sometimes the dealer gets you down to the felt. The pigs took my brother, no doubt, back to that horrid pop artist. What the hell. He always did have a thing for floozies. Me and my friends? We got pinched. That doesn't mean it's all over. Maybe I'll get out based on insanity. My brother is still out there and I'll find him one day.<br /><br />Besides, I still walked away from Vegas with a $25 green chip in my pocket.<br /><br />Copyright 2011, Gris GrimlyGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-56158436628235967302011-01-22T11:27:00.000-08:002011-01-22T11:45:02.531-08:00DREAM CAPTURE APP FOR IPHONEI went to sleep last night riddled with fever and doped up on pharmaceuticals. I rarely take drugs. I wont even take an aspirin. But when I get deathly ill and work is piled up, I do what I need to do to get back on my feet. Mostly I consume natural and herbal antidotes and I feel pretty good about that. <br /><br />In my dream I was presented with a combination of numbers that, arranged in a specific order, appeared as 311 and 44. My girlfriend and I are convinced that these numbers have some significant meaning in our lives. 311 has been a number that she sees all the time and 44 is a number I see all the time. Together, we see both of these numbers. In my half sleep I was deciphering the meaning behind it all. I had it all figured out and was looking for my Iphone on the nightstand so I could take a picture of the combination in my dream (which was on a license plate). Then I came to the realization that this was ludicrous. As utilitarian as the Iphone may be, it CAN NOT capture images in our dreams.<br /><br />Copyright 2011, Gris GrimlyGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-59291371272654685862011-01-20T10:33:00.000-08:002011-01-20T15:53:01.575-08:00GUTTED LIKE A PIGJared was fat. He's always been fat. He didn't look like a muffin top so much as a flowing lava cake. Life throws some pretty mean punches without being an object of ridicule. For people like Jared, every day was an emotional beat down. <br /><br />He thought things would be better after High School. When children are developing, they feel awkward and insecure. They don't know who they are and fear not having a place in their social system. They choose and distinguish inferiors in a way to establish themselves as superiors. Although savage, it's logical. But this is just a developing stage they grow out of. This trite struggle to establish ranking in the social class doesn't exist beyond High School, does it?<br /><br />It most certainly does. <br /><br />Jared enrolled in a community college and moved into a dorm on campus. The social structure was the same. Only now the students had a naive arrogance developed from the delusion that they had now transcended into adulthood. Jared also noticed the technique in which superiors treated the inferiors was different. It was more subtle and secretive, but stung just as bad. Nothing had changed, and Jared still went home feeling the shit kicked out of him.<br /><br />The general ed classes Jared took were just a way to move forward. But he had no idea what he wanted to do for a living and the future terrified him. Outside of classes, Jared's world existed in his solitary dorm. A virgin geek palace. He'd listen to songs by "Weezer" about not fitting in while starting flame wars on movie blogs. His alias: SuaveJabba. To everyone on the other end of the fiber-optics, SuaveJabba was a god.<br /><br />One day he was sitting in a Starbucks sipping down a Mocha while chatting on his favorite blog. He was debating why "Green Hornet" is the worst comic book adaptation to come out since "Daredevil". A few guys from a nearby office came in for a fuel up. Dressed in Armani suits and rogaine'd hair, this was success. He observed their behavior from behind his Ibook and noticed a familiarity. Although ten to fifteen years older than Jared's circle of peers, they acted very much the same. They still punched each other in the shoulder while laughing about last night's basketball game. They still bit their fists and gawked at a sexy blond that walked by. They even played cruel games like "Hey Chris. Until you get laid, you're buying the coffee rounds". Hiiiii-laaar-ious. "You better get out there and work your mojo". <br /><br />Jared took a sip from his mocha, slurping up the whip cream sludge at the bottom. Flowing text from incoming comments reflected in shimmering blue on his glasses. A large flash of color became a distraction in the corner of his eye. He looked over to see a portly woman in a red dress enter the coffee house. If her size didn't announce her arrival, the jangle of the door bell did. The three suited men turned and noticed. It was Claire from the office.<br /><br />It was like WILD KINGDOM for Jared studying the behaviors of these mysterious animals. Marlin Perkins out in the savage lands of man...STARBUCKS. Curiously, Jared watched on. The tall guy in the pink shirt welcomed her, "You needed a pick up too". <br /><br />Claire slouched in melodramatic exhaustion. "I just can't stay awake. Monday slumps".<br /><br />All three of the choir boys chimed in, "I hear that".<br /><br />Interesting. Could it be that somewhere between the ages of 20 and 30 humans give up this game of social hierarchy? Jared watched on as the four of them chatted away appearing to be unbounded by any set of social limits. Three latte's arrived and the men left Claire smiling. As they passed by, Jared heard "Pinky" tell Chris, "You know, if it gets bad enough, you can always pork Claire." Out the window, Jared watched them as they silently laughed and made humping motions on their way back to the office. He looked over at Claire. Glowing with apple bliss cheeks she retrieved her mocha and followed. Nothing changes.<br /><br />Jared entered his dorm. His video games, World of Warcraft and SuaveJabba no longer brought him happiness. He scrolled through his itunes until he found Elliott Smith (music to be depressed to). He started the playlist with "Pretty (Ugly Before)". The modern shaving razor doesn't serve any other purpose than hygienic upkeep. Maybe the current design is the result of safety evolution. Regardless, everyone has a kitchen knife.<br /><br />Stripped down to his silky skin, Jared sat in his ergonomic computer chair. It was the top of the line in office furnishing to ensure utmost comfortability in order to endure long hours on your ass. Mr. Smith sang:<br /><br />Sunshine been keeping me up for days<br />There is no nighttime, it's only a passing phase<br />And I feel pretty, pretty enough for you<br />I felt so ugly before<br />I didn't know what to do<br /><br />Jared looked down on his belly that hung over his legs. His knees poked out like two mounds on the horizon. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his own penis. It has been a constant struggle being fat. It's not that Jared was comfortable being that way. It was just so hard to change his behavior. The worse he felt about himself, the more he ate. The more he ate, the worse he looked. It was a malevolent cycle.<br /><br />Sunshine been keeping me up for days<br />There is no nighttime, only a passing phase<br />And I'll feel pretty another hour or two<br />I felt so ugly before<br />I didn't know what to do<br /><br />Jared took the butcher knife in his hand and pointed it down towards his Xiphoid process. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He plunged the knife deep into his bowels and slowly slit his belly open from sternum to pelvis. Out poured everything that made him fat; everything that made him a buffoon; everything that made him ashamed. For the last moments of his life, he was thin.<br /><br />I felt so ugly before<br />I didn't know what to do<br />I felt so ugly before<br />I didn't know what to do<br /><br />Before he died, Jared exerted enough strength to post his last comment in blood on his chest. IF IT DOESN'T GET ANY BETTER...WHAT'S THE POINT IN LIVING?<br /><br />signed SUAVEJABBA.<br /><br />Copyright 2011, Gris GrimlyGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-13291077025094815442011-01-18T11:37:00.000-08:002011-01-18T18:01:52.787-08:00FINGER-STRIPPING GOOD"Get your fingers out of there!"<br /><br />Her mother snapped as she spanked Lyndsee's hand away from the cookie dough. The seven-year-old fair-headed child sprung back, rubbing the loose skin on her hand. Her face shriveled up like silly putty into a pout. Her lower lip swelled pink and juicy while her brow furrowed like a melting candle. <br /><br />Lyndsee has the ability to mold and push her face into the most abstract cartoonish expressions. She suffers from Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS) also known as Cutis Hyperelastica. This rare genetic disease results in the defective production of collagen which breaks down the ability to hold the skin together. Because of this, she has become the class clown. She gets the kids rolling with her "bat wings" impression where she clasps her checks and spans them out like wings on the side of her face. This is only one of her many infamous impressions including "choking crane" "bloated frog" and "smiling anteater".<br /><br />Lyndsee's mouth pools with drool as she watches her mother mixing a chocolate chip chocolate cookie mix. Mmm mmm mmm! Finger licking good! Now if only she could get her fingers in there to try it. Her mother dumps in a tablespoon of vanilla extract. The aroma of cookie dough stings the hot kitchen air from the preheating oven.<br /><br />Cookies are amazing when they are cooked. The warm crunch on the outside holds in the hot buttery chew. For this short fifteen minute period, the solid state of a chocolate chip defies the laws of physics and becomes a steaming dripping mess of goodness. This is decadence. But on the flip side, bliss is the taste of raw cookie dough. Cool, textural folds of pleasure, swelling with ingredients in their purest form. The billows of sugar-filled fluff wrap around solid clumps of tangy chocolate. Both experiences demand indulgence. Hell and Heaven.<br /><br />Lyndsee watches as her mother dumps in a bag of chocolate chips. The little black babies plunge in cheering with joy. Lyndsee licks her face with the extra elasticity of her tongue. Her mother sets the mixer on high; A tempting carousal of chocolate temptation. <br /><br />DLING. DLING. The phone rings in the other room.<br /><br />Lyndsee is warned, "Leave it alone," just before her mother exits the kitchen.<br /><br />The yakity-yak of her mother's gossip becomes muffled as the sound of the mixer grows louder in Lyndsee's head. The glass bowl whirls around, displaying every glistening chocolate chip with each rotation. At this point, the lure has Lyndsee's eyeballs pulsating. If she really was a cartoon, this would be the point she blows her smokestack. Her jaw would drop, unraveling a five-foot tongue, as horns blare A-OOGA!!!<br /><br />From the living room a sound is heard similar to a car driving over a wooden bridge with open gaps and uneven planks. Quickly, a wet Shammy is ripped off the sucking hose of a vacuum. This is jammed up quickly releasing the sound of a frustrated motor unable to turn. The grunt becomes tiresome, slowing to a barely audible exasperation. <br /><br />Lyndsee's mother drops the phone and runs into the kitchen. The mixer has given up, bundled up in bloody skin as if it were a scarf. On the kitchen floor lays the meaty remains of Lyndsee. Her right arm still raised in the air with her bony index finger extended. On the tip is a dollop of chocolate chip chocolate cookie dough.<br /><br />Copyright 2011, Gris GrimlyGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639109983049644382.post-15663802692801160182011-01-17T11:29:00.000-08:002011-01-17T14:02:39.633-08:00MAKE LIFE AMUSING-SUBSCRIBE TO HATE...I'm not one to judge when it comes to being a hater. I hate many things myself. I don't necessarily hate people, but I hate many of the actions that represent people. <br /><br />I hate when people talk on cell phones at inappropriate times. Maybe not so much, because what is the difference between talking on the cell phone and talking to your present company. Maybe I just hate the type of people who do so and the crap that spills out of their mouth. While we're on the subject, I hate those little ear pieces. Maybe it's not the ear pieces that I hate because I understand that they serve a hands-free purpose. Maybe I just hate the type of people who wear them all the time because they look like cyborgs. I hate when people bring their little dogs into public buildings and cafes. Maybe it doesn't bother me so much because there isn't much of an option for dog owners when they're out with their dog. Maybe I just hate the type of people who do so proudly exercising their privilege.<br /><br />As you can see, who am I to judge. I have these little negative thoughts myself that get me all fired up and end up becoming a long debate with the person I'm with. <br /><br />When does hate become a positive thing? Usually hate is NEVER positive, especially when it becomes an act of violence towards an individual or a group. This usually just spreads like cancer to cause more hate and violence towards a group. Interesting how this theme is emerging on Martin Luther King day. But my focus is not about racial discrimination or violence. It is about when hate brings much amusement and humor into an individuals life.<br /><br />My girlfriend and I drove up to Santa Barbara wine country to get away for the weekend. Her car has a burnt out headlamp (which I've been meaning to fix. But due to the construction of the car I have to remove the front bumper and this daunting task is easily becoming the source of much procrastination). So we've been driving at night with the high beams on. I understand that this is a slight annoyance...but it can be easily ignored...right?<br /><br />So you can imagine my amusement when someone completely flips their lid. We're heading up the 101 (somewhere around Calabasas) when a pickup truck ahead of us slows down, let's us pass, merges into our lane and turns on his high beams. Okay. That's a bit proactive. Usually you'll get flashed which most likely is a courtesy to say "Hey. Your brights are on" but this was a bit ridiculous.<br /><br />After a couple miles I was wondering if this was helping him therapeutically and what is the subscribed mileage (or time) length needed for the cure. Eventually, he turned off his high beams, passed us and went on his raging way. <br /><br />Did the act help him? Probably not. He probably went home and spent the next hour bitching to his wife about what happened on his way home from work.<br /><br />Or maybe he went on his merrily way (Having forgotten the incident altogether), kissed his wife when he walked in the door and made love to her for hours.<br /><br />How should I know. Maybe I'm just as bad for focusing on this event for as long as I have, allowing it to consume so much of my thoughts and time. I mean shit...I just spent the last hour writing a blog about it.<br /><br />You have to love humans.<br /><br />Copyright 2011, Gris GrimlyGris Grimlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05297750927480846346noreply@blogger.com1