GARGOYLZ ON THE LOOSE...

As of 2nd July, the Gargoylz are now available to buy in shops and online. What's more they have their very own brand spanking new website which I've just visited for the first time. The website contains info on the Gargoylz books, characters and toys and there's even a game and special competitions where you can win lovely gargoyly goodies.

MY ROCHESTER TUTORS- Jackie Clark and Peter Gowers

These are two of my most favourite people I've ever known and I first met them when the world was 18 years younger than it is now. I was a fresh faced pup with a pocket full of rainbows and a head full of dreams in '91, just out of school and embarking on an art education. Jackie Clark (the smiley one without the beard on the right) and Pete Gowers (the grizzled one on the left. I'm joking, he's a sweet kid) were the very first tutors I had and I only had them for a year.

Now, I'm not the sort of person who makes an awful lot of friends- I tend to hang about on the periphery, I hide in the shadows and hope the world leaves me alone but in 1991 Jackie opened the door and coaxed me out and was warm and lovely and made me laugh. A lot.

And I'm not the sort of person who's awash with confidence either- I tend to muddle along, hope for the best and fumble my way through the dark but in 1991 Pete turned on the lights and illuminated the path and he was warm and sagely and swore. A lot.

Today, for the first time in months and months I had a day off and for the first time in years and years I went to visit them. Every bit as fantastic as they always were, I completely enjoyed several happy hours whiling away the time in the warmth of the sunshine and their company.

I can't begin to tell you how dear they are to me but I'm absolutely certain had it not been for that one glorious and golden year I had with Jackie and Pete, I wouldn't be an illustrator at all.

GRAHAM-CAMERON ILLUSTRATION

Some years ago when I was struggling to find any sort of work as an illustrator I was considering packing up and moving to the bleak town of Giveupsville. Until one afternoon a small chink of light broke the gloom and I received a life changing 'phone call from Mike of the illustration agency Graham-Cameron Illustration. He had responded to a letter I'd sent some time before asking for representation and he, Duncan and Helen lifted me up, put me back on my feet and jump started my career.

And I'll never, ever be able to thank them enough for all their hard work, support and advice through the years.

The little guy above who's splashing through a puddle of paint is a promotional drawing to be placed on a beermat for GCI, probably the best illustration agency in the world.

BAD WOLF

I've only managed 14 hours sleep since Sunday morning and today's Friday. I think.

My poor little eyes are littler, blearier and redder than they've ever been before. And they sting a bit. The reason for the lack of sleep is having to meet my deadlines (or 'dead lions' as my little girl calls them). I've been bustin' guts to complete the final drawings of Gargoylz Put on a Show in which a ridiculous version of Little Red Riding Hood is performed.

But all the subterfuge that comes with that story and the red eyes that comes from illustrating that story reminds me of a time when I got up to some pretty good subterfuge myself...

I was a wee, freshed faced lad of 17 in 1990 with high ambitions and the world at my feet, which I suppose is why I had a part time job working at Tescos. They always made me do Saturday which is the worst day of the week to be sitting on a till from 8 in the morning 'til half 7 at night. I hated every minute of it and invariably left work with a headache. But the worst Saturday for a lad of 17 to be working on was FA Cup Final day and the 1990 Final was between Man United and Crystal Palace. I forgot to ring in sick.

So I arrived at work and was sent to my till by a sour faced supervisor and whilst ringing in the frozen peas (groceries, 59p) I devised my escape plan. Kick off was at 3pm but I had to be sitting in front of my telly by lunchtime as the FA Cup commanded a considerable build up back in the day, so I was going to have to work fast.

Break time came in which I had just twenty minutes to execute the most brilliant plan any boy ever devised to get out of work to watch football. Before going for a rest upstairs I bought a pack of colouring pencils (home and wear, £1.49), a pencil sharpener (also home and wear, 49p) and a small pair of tweezers (again, also home and wear, 99p). Upstairs in the changing rooms I sharpened a red colouring pencil down until I had a fine red dust which I applied around my eyes. I was starting to look a bit ill.

Next, I used the tweezers to pluck nose hairs from my nostrils which had two desirable effects: it made my eyes water uncontrollably and made me sneeze violently time after time so before getting back to the shop floor I plucked several more times. It was now do or die.

Slowly I shuffled back to my till, holding my head in one hand as I went. Immediately it was noticeable I was very sick. I started squinting, believing the lights ought to be hurting my eyes and the sour faced supervisors (not you Sandra, you were always very nice- I hope you're well) were now showing some concern as to my welfare especially as, believing noise ought to be hurting my ears, I couldn't hear a word they were saying.

Within 10 minutes I was skipping work and skipping all the way home. Back of the net!

United and Palace drew 3-3 with United winning the replay 1-0. Result!

MY FOX TROTS

There's a three legged fox who regularly curls up in my front garden to sleep off the meal he's just opened my bins to get. I don't mind the mess he makes too much though as I think he's quite sweet unlike the cats that do much the same thing.

The cats that visit are double hard. They put the frighteners up my fox and me and sometimes chase us off. My fox though, since he's missing a leg, doesn't run very fast. Also, because of his missing leg he veers to the left until he turns a large circle and starts running back the way he came which is unfortunate as the cats usually wait on his return.

The drawing of the fox above is taken from my sketchbook but it isn't my fox (count the legs).

Actually, writing this post reminds me of a teacher I used to have at school (Chatham Grammar School for Boys, fact fans) who only had one leg himself. He had a wooden one but died of Dutch Elm Disease at the tender age of 82.

THE LOOK OF LOATHE IS IN HER EYES...

...a look her scowl can't disguise. I'm pretty sure when this woman was younger she'd cry for a happy ending but those days are far behind her and now I just think she longs for any sort of ending at all.

I saw her a few years ago waiting for a train and the daft old romantic in me hoped the train would take her to some place where she'd be happy and loved. But those daft old romantic days are far behind me and now I just think she'd be a misery wherever she went.

It ain't natural to be so joyless and jaded and alone and deflated, I wanted to hug her myself but frankly she scared me. She radiated a dark, brooding terror and pigeons fell dead from the sky when she stared at them.

I wonder where she is now.

Ooooo(shivers), no I don't.

BEAUTY AND THE BEASTS original b/w sketch

I know what you're wondering. You're wondering how much more I can ring out of the Beauty and the Beasts post I put up on 2nd May and referred back to again on 12th May.

You're wondering how someone so seemingly fluid in thought has the nerve to waste your time by chopping on about monsters again.

You're wondering how someone so seemingly infallible is so frightened of the opening 10 minutes of Carry on Screaming he can't bear to watch it. You're wondering how someone so seemingly flawless is even more terrified of balloons than he is of the aforementioned film. You're wondering what any of this has to do with anything.

I'll explain.

Because as the night and the moon and the stars give up their space for day, I stop in silence to watch the fishing boat pull slow across the sea. And old, half forgotten and half drowned dreams resurface, tugging my memory, begging for life and I'm dazzled by the speed and strength of their recovery. I'm haunted by her face and words I never got to whisper but now I realise the clouds are getting dark and the chill is getting crisper. All the while I stand on the bay in the rain, restlessly waiting for the boat to sail again. One persistent thought bobs up once more and carries through my mind as driftwood carries to the shore: wouldn't it be quite good if a big sea monster ate all them boats up?

There, much clearer isn't it?

So that children, is why monsters are so good. I look at my own personal demons, balloons and the opening 10 minutes of that film and I wouldn't be without those fears, not for a minute. Actually thinking about it, of course I'd prefer to live without them, who wants to be terrified of telly and parties? It's stupid.

BEAUTY AND THE BEASTS sketchbook rough

This is the rough of the Beauty and the Beasts post I put up on 2nd May which I did in my A5 sketchbook. After I'd done the initial rough, I decided bits and pieces needed changing or improving and with this in mind I did corrections on a separate piece of paper and stuck them over the parts I wasn't so keen on.

I also added extra little details to make the composition more interesting and fill the space better. Once I started on the final drawing I continued to add further details to improve the illustration.

A HOPPY ENDING

Remember Fluffy from a few posts ago, trapped in the woods and surrounded by monsters?

Remember I said he was doomed?

Well I was wrong- he lives to hop another day, kids.

CHARLOTTE DEWAR AND THE REVOLVERTRON

Think where man's glory most begins and ends
And say my glory was I had such friends.

WB YEATS (1865-1939)

I was at Camberwell College of Art in the mid-90's with some talented people but none more brilliant than my friend Charlotte Dewar (nee Mallaby). We designed and made this stunning little piece of crap one afternoon for fun and it only took about four or five minutes. Possibly twenty. Certainly no longer than the whole afternoon.

Charlotte helped me find my inner sisu and was responsible for making me blow more bogey bubbles per minute than anyone else from '93-'95. I always smile when I think about the stupid, jerky motion the bulb made when it rotated although I'm not sure what its function was other than to make us laugh.

Now The Revolvertron is safely stored in some box in some loft somewhere waiting patiently to be rediscovered.

Lovely and completely off her chump, Charlotte deservedly left college with a 1st Class Honours Degree and is now the Creative Director at People Brands.

I did considerably worse at college although I reckon I might of made it big in the sciences were I not an illustrator. Erm, probably would have designed rockets or something.