#gotta get him working on that darn cauldron too

[victorluvsalice]

-->Case in point, Alice dipping Victor and laying one on him without a care in the world right in the middle of the shop. XD I’d say “PDA to a minimum, you two,” but, well, I directed you to do it. XD

-->Anyway -- date meandered on, through the world’s worst fashion show and the townies utterly swarming the clothing racks, the fashion show, and the boba tea counter. The trio watched the latest townie make her mark with a rather basic bad outfit, then Smiler went outside to catch some locusts and get in some chess at the table in the nearby little park area while Victor -- after trying very unsuccessfully to actually ORDER some boba tea -- (first it wouldn’t let him do it at all, then it claimed there was no free counter space) -- just swiped an unclaimed Lychee Milk one and took it and Alice to one of the outside tables to decompress for a bit. The boba tea proved to be absolutely TERRIBLE at actually filling up his hunger need, though, and once he was done, they went back inside to watch more terrible fashion while he drank a Potion of Plentiful Needs. Now THAT hit the spot!

-->It was around this time that I realized “wait a second, this lot has a microphone -- why not let Smiler tell some jokes for the crowd?” And so that’s exactly what I did. Smiler’s audience was small -- just the owner of the place to start -- but she was appreciative, at least! Victor and Alice, meanwhile, started up a spontaneous slow dance in the corner in the final minutes of their date, awww. :) I had them end things with a dip kiss (thanks Cute Romance!), then head over to watch some of Smiler’s show while the timer ran out. Date ended in Gold status, and Victor and Alice successfully completed that tradition for Love Day!

-->. . .meaning now it was Victor and Smiler’s turn! XD I had Smiler kick things off by giving Victor a wild daisy (which he did NOT appreciate -- seriously, flowers, SO hit or miss), and then inviting him and Alice to another location, since ThrifTea had proved to be less than romantic. . .

[atlantic-riona]

A Retelling of Bricriu’s Feast

(or, as I like to call it, “Who Will Be Ireland’s Top Couple?”)

disclaimer: this is a very paraphrased, pieced together retelling of a myth. it’s got bits that are summarized and bits that are added and bits that are skipped over and bits that are from a ton of different versions.

it’s how I would tell this story to someone who has no prior knowledge of Irish myths; when I retell Irish myths to kids, this is usually the style I tell them in. it’s meant to be funny and entertaining. it’s not at all scholarly. if you want the actual myths, please feel free to ask! I’ll tell you my sources so you can see the original.

with that out of the way, here we go:

Bricriu throws a feast and he’s trying to get all the Ulstermen to fight

bear in mind he spent a year building a lavish house SPECIFICALLY for this purpose, with a secret balcony for him to be able to see everything going on without being seen

Bricriu is The Troublemaker™ of Ireland

anyway when everything’s ready, off he goes to Emain Macha, where the king of Ulster (Conchobar) and the Ulaid (men of Ulster) are throwing their own party

Bricriu tells Conchobar about all the cool house he built and how he’s throwing a feast there, wouldn’t he like to come? Conchobar, not being great at recognizing when Mischief Is Afoot, is like, “sweet! I’ll go if everybody else will go”

then good old Fergus mac Roich and all the other chieftains go, “mmm...hard pass”

“if we go to his feast, he’ll make us fight, and then our dead will outnumber the living”

you think they’re being dramatic but you haven’t seen Bricriu’s response yet

Bricriu: if you don’t go to my party I’ll do way worse than that

Conchobar *side eyes him*: like...what?

Bricriu: I’ll make all the kings and warriors and youths and chiefs fight each other, and you’ll all murder each other unless you come to my party

Conchobar:

the other Ulaid:

Conchobar: yeah, no, we do that on a daily basis anyway. what else you got?

Bricriu: okay, if that’s not bad enough, I’ll make all the daughters and mothers fight each other, and if that’s not enough for you, I’ll make all the women fight each other until their breasts are RUINED

the Ulaid: *horrified gasp*

Fergus, a known womanizer: noT THE WOMEN

Fergus: we gotta go to this party

luckily, the other chieftains hold off long enough to come up with a plan (mainly due to Sencha, a judge and poet, who is like. the only one here with any common sense)

and their plan is to demand hostages from Bricriu to ensure their safety AND as soon as the feast is ready to be eaten, eight swordsmen will force Bricriu to leave the room so he can’t incite them to violence

outwardly Bricriu’s all, “of course! no problem! I just want us all to have a good time!” while on the inside he’s cackling maniacally or something

“YES THEY FELL INTO MY TRAP”

all the Ulaid happily march off to Bricriu’s new house (free food! drink! a good time had by all! except NOT)

Bricriu spends the whole time plotting, and finally hits upon a way to incite mischief (as he usually does) along the way

he sidles up to a hero named Loegaire and starts praising him (very poetically, might I add), and finally tells him that he definitely deserves the Champion’s Portion

[scholarly digression #1: the Champion’s Portion in Irish mythology is where the warrior who’s considered the bravest is awarded the best cut of meat and given precedence over all others. lots of fights get started over it. like this one!]

and Loegaire’s like, “no duh, of course I deserve it”

Bricriu says that Loegaire should take his advice if he wants to be recognized as The Best in Ireland, and Loegaire happily agrees (I guess he also is Unable To Recognize when there is Mischief Afoot)

Bricriu then goes off and describes what the Champion’s Portion will be at his feast

(it’s a descriptive list, Irish myths do this a lot, but basically it goes like this: a cauldron big enough to fit three men full of wine, a boar and a cow that will be super tasty because of how they’ve been fed, and 100 wheatcakes cooked in honey)

forgot to mention that the Champion’s Portion doesn’t just have to be the best cut of meat, so there’s that

and then he tells Loegaire that when the feast is ready, to have his charioteer stand up and the Champion’s Portion will be given to him

questions: how?? where is it all gonna go?? is Loegaire expected to eat that in one sitting???

alas, there are no answers given to us

by the end of this, Loegaire’s all pumped up and tells Bricriu that the portion better be given to him, or else blood will be spilled

when Conchobar said that killing each other was a daily occurrence, he wasn’t kidding, guys

Bricriu then goes to Conall Cernach, another hero, and repeats the same spiel, amping up the deceit, so he’s twice as slimy, I guess

Conall also doesn’t recognize Stranger Danger and falls for the lies

THEN Bricriu goes to Cúchulainn (who is, just so you know, the Hero of this particular cycle of Irish mythology), and really lays it on thick

Bricriu: why should anybody else get the Champion’s Portion when you exist?

Cúchulainn: anyone who tries to take the Champion’s Portion besides myself will lose their head, courtesy of me

Bricriu: nice. very violent

Bricriu then goes and mingles like there’s no tomorrow, pretending that he didn’t just set up the most awful prank ever

they get to the house, everybody settles in, the feast gets set up, and then everybody gives Bricriu The Look

as he’s being escorted out at swordpoint, he points out the Champion’s Portion and says it should go to the best warrior in Ulster

the Irish equivalent of Eris throwing the Apple of Discord into the midst of the Greek gods, only manlier

the three heroes’ charioteers stand up in order to get the champion’s portion for their respective masters and do a collective double take when they see the others, only with more shouting and insults

then the three heroes start fighting while the rest of the Ulaid sit at the table, looking at each other like “I just wanted to eat my food, can we please not”

finally Sencha tells Conchobar, “hey. can you like...be the king and stop this?” (I told you he was the only one with any common sense)

Conchobar and Fergus break up the fight and then Sencha says, “right, here’s how this is going to work. we’re going to divide it equally among everybody tonight—YES, everybody, sit down, Loegaire—and then tomorrow we’ll get judgement from elsewhere. everybody go off and get drunk now”

which they do, happily

Bricriu, sitting in his hidden balcony with his wife, is Not Pleased at the way his mischief is being ruined, courtesy of Sencha, and starts thinking up ways to start up fights between the wives who accompanied their husbands here

he sees Fedelm, the wife of Loegaire, leaving the hall with her fifty attendants, in search of fresh air (because they’d all been drinking a lot) and goes, “oh! new idea!”

he tells her (and then as they come out in turn, Conall’s wife Lendabair and Cúchulainn’s wife Emer) that whoever gets back inside the hall first is the Best Woman in Ulster

all the ladies are like, “nice. it’s going to be me”

gotta love that confidence

they mosey about outside, breathe in that nice night air, and then eventually decide to go back in and rejoin the party

so at first, they’re walking back all stately. then, they start to move faster. and then it becomes an all out sprint

they cause so much noise (because their attendants are really confused and also running, and there’s probably about a hundred of those people) that all the warriors, inside, think they’re under attack

they jump up and make as if to kill each other

because that’s a good reaction

but then again, as you’ve seen, the Ulaid will kill each other for no reason at all, so why are we surprised

but Sencha’s like “WAIT THIS IS BRICRIU AGAIN” so he orders the doors to be shut so that there won’t be fighting and killing on behalf of the women

Emer’s the fastest, so just as the door closes she reaches the entrance and tells them to open it because she won. Cúchulainn’s like, “sweet,” and gets up to open the door for her, but then the other ladies’ husbands go, “wait. MY wife is the best,” and they get up too

they don’t even know what their wives are competing in, but they support them anyway

now THAT’S some relationship goals right there

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

Conchobar’s all “STOP STOP STOP” and makes them all sit down (though if I was going to bet on that fight I would bet on Cúchulainn) and he says they’ll have to duel this out with words

(epic rap battle)

(but not really)

so each of the other ladies give a quick speech about how they’re the bestest and queenliest and prettiest, and their husbands are the greatest heroes, and so they should be let in first

and then Emer destroys them

she’s like, “okay you might be pretty but actually WAIT NO YOU’RE NOT”

“I’m the most beautiful AND I’m the wisest AND I’m the most graceful in the whole darn country”

“and everybody KNOWS IT”

“Mary Poppins might be practically perfect in every way, but I’m actually perfect in every way”

(obviously I’m doing some extreme paraphrasing here)

and then she goes, “oh, you know who else is perfect? my husband” and basically calls the other ladies’ husbands feeble when compared to Cúchulainn and goes on a rant on how great her husband is

anyway, after this praise, all the husbands are all, “yeah, my wife is DEFINITELY the Best so I’m gonna let her in now. doors? who needs doors?”

the other two rip out parts of the wall so their wives can come in

but Cúchulainn casually lifts up one side of the house so Emer AND all her attendants (plus the other wives’ attendants) can get in

which they do, and Emer’s looking around like, “yep, I am the Best and so’s my husband, beat that”

and then Cúchulainn goes “meh” and drops the house, but it goes too far into the ground so it’s lopsided now

which happens to knock Bricriu and his wife over off their secret balcony into the mud

so Bricriu storms into the house, unrecognizable because he’s covered in mud, points a finger at the Ulstermen and yells, “FIX THIS,” and puts a geis on them so they won’t eat or sleep or drink until everything in his house has been put back in order

and the Ulstermen are like “oh no” “our dinner is in danger”

(as their dinner often is)

so they go out and do their best, but it doesn’t budge. they ask Cúchulainn to fix it and he tries to lift the house again, but fails. he gets angry about this and gets undergoes his warp spasm (a.k.a. all his hair gets sucked into his head and his ribs become really prominent and a lot of weird stuff happens to him. like the Hulk, but more disturbing. I don’t know. Cúchulainn goes through a lot) and puts the house back where it was.

then everybody’s like, “thank god, food,” and they sit down to eat.

but everybody’s still talking about who is The Best, and the women are still arguing about it, which makes their husbands get up in arms about it, so finally Sencha (still the only one with any common sense) goes, “guys. please. we’re eating. save the drama for after the food”

and Emer goes, “make me” and proceeds to reiterate why she and Cúchulainn are The Best. why? because she can. and nobody’s gonna stop her.

so Connall says to her, “okay, and? let’s see him do all this great stuff you’ve been saying he can do”

dude’s looking for a fight I guess

Cúchulainn, normally all about fighting everybody, passes because he had a busy day and needs to recuperate before fighting anyone

which is true, he had a very busy day. he was busy wrestling a horse that came out of a lake so he could ride it everywhere.

goals

and then he lifted up an entire house. twice. dude’s tired

he tells everybody this and then says, “fighting you will be fun, but later. need to eat. and sleep. then I’ll fight and maybe kill you”

*thumbs up*

anyway the fighting is put on hold for a couple days

but then the heroes start bickering about it, so Bricriu tells them to go to a man named Curoi mac Daire so he can judge them

you know the drill. each hero sets out separate from the others and rides through the night, with their charioteers. at some point a magic mist shows up and makes them lose their way. a giant appears and they fight. Conall and Loegaire end up running away, ditching their chariots and charioteer. tsk, tsk. Cúchulainn, however, beats up the giant, who forfeits. Cúchulainn heads back towards Emain (and he brings the other heroes’ stuff back with him to boot)

do they thank him? ABSOLUTELY NOT

Bricriu’s about to give Cúchulainn the Champion’s Portion, but the other heroes go “uh-uh. no way. that was not human. that was a guy from the Otherworld. he’s probably a friend of Cúchulainn’s. that whole thing was RIGGED”

so nothing’s solved and everyone’s back to fighting again

Conchobar’s all, “gotta get these guys OUT of here,” and decides to bring them to Aillil and Medb in Cruachan (a rival king and queen, who are kind of like the Ulaid’s frenemies? it’s complicated)

everybody heads off to Cruachan, but Cúchulainn hangs behind to entertain the ladies by performing feats with apples and knives and javelins, as one does

his charioteer Laeg finally goes up to him and says , “dude. buddy. are you stupid or what? everybody else has already reached Cruachan by now, you’ve lost the Champion’s Portion”

this is usually how Laeg talks to him, btw

running on Pure Spite™, Cúchulainn says, “I think NOT” and they set off towards Cruachan, Laeg insulting him the whole way to make him go faster

they go so fast that they get there first

also they cause an earthquake on the way in

rip

more feasting commences

then Conchobar brings up why they’re here and gets Aillil and Medb to agree to be the judge. as soon as that’s done, he and the other Ulstermen yeet themselves out of there as fast as possible

depending on the version, three magic cats attacked the heroes while they were eating or while they were sleeping. either way, Conall and Loegaire jump to the rafters and stay there for the rest of the night.

Cúchulainn doesn’t do anything until one of the cats tries to eat him or tries to eat his food (it’s unclear). either way, Cúchulainn ain’t having it. he tries to chop off its head, but it bounces off the creature’s neck. because magic. so he basically stays on guard against the cats all night

(kind of reminds me of all my friends with cats who try to walk on their faces during the night so they have to protect themselves)

(Extreme Cat Owner Sport)

in the morning, the cats disappear, Aillil and Medb come in. “awesome, looks like we have a winner,” they say, eager to wash their hands of the Ulster heroes. “NO WAY,” say Conall and Loegaire. “that was RIGGED. this is a contest between MEN, not MAGIC PEOPLE. this doesn’t count”

it’s unclear whether they’re still in the rafters at this point. I like to think they are, because that’s way funnier

Aillil’s like “oh dear” and sits in his bedroom for a few days because he’s so worried about this. finally Medb loses patience (as Medb often does), and says, “you coward! make up your mind or I will”

Aillil waffles and says the decision is really difficult

Medb says, “think again. Loegaire and Conall Cernach are as different as bronze and silver, while Conall Cernach and Cúchulainn are as different as silver and gold. this decision is a piece of cake”

and then Medb goes, “wait, I just had a really great idea that will get these guys out of our hair AND make Conchobar upset. I’m going to do it”

“you’re not even going to think about it for a second?” Aillil says uncertainly

“absolutely not. I’m a genius.” and away she goes

she summons the heroes one by one

to Loegaire, she says, “you are Ulster’s greatest hero and you deserve the Champion’s Portion. here’s a bronze cup. but don’t show it to anybody until you get back to Ulster, m’kay?”

Loegaire goes “nice” and they both drink some wine. then he leaves for Ulster

she does the same spiel for Conall, only he gets a silver cup instead of a bronze. they drink, he leaves.

Medb sends someone for Cúchulainn because he hasn’t shown up yet.

in one version, he’s asleep.

in another, he’s playing chess with Laeg.

anyway, the messenger shows up and Cúchulainn offs him with either a rock or a chess-piece. he’s a big fan of killing the messenger. this is not a new thing.

Medb puts her arms around his neck (is she trying to hug him? stab him? who knows) but Cúchulainn is all “you’re about to get slaughtered if you don’t get your hands off me”

“but Cúchulainn, I was going to say that you’re The Best,” Medb says, very slyly

“well in that case let’s go”

they go, Medb tells him that he’s The Best, and gives him a really sweet golden cup with precious gems all over it. and, bonus, she says that Emer is also The Best

this makes Cúchulainn happy. he drinks a lot of wine and leaves.

which makes Medb and Aillil happy. everybody’s happy.

but it is not The End yet

in some versions there are more tests, but I’ll sum them up for you: everybody agrees Cúchulainn and Emer are The Best

there is definitely a pattern here

gosh if only a decision had been reached by multiple sources as to who’s the best so that all this fighting could be put to rest

alas

it was not to be

back on the ranch

in Ulster, all the heroes are back and it is Feasting Time

everything’s been served except for...

dun dun dun

the Champion’s Portion

someone asks the obvious question: “who’s it going to? none of the three returned with a prize from Medb”

DUN DUN DUN

Loegaire stands up and proclaims that he is the champion because Medb said so and also he has this wicked bronze cup she gave him so there

Conall Cernach and Cúchulainn scoff

Conall Cernach stands up and says “it is a well known fact that rock beats scissors and furthermore, that silver beats bronze”

he holds up the silver cup Medb gave him and declares himself the winner

“that’s a no, actually,” Cúchulainn says, and pulls out the really sweet golden cup Medb gave him. “rock beats scissors and silver beats bronze, but gold beats everything. so, actually, I’m The Best. also Medb said Emer is The Best so there.”

“absolutely not,” the other two say. “you totally paid Medb and Ailill to give that to you. LET’S FIGHT”

these two are very sore losers, aren’t they

Cúchulainn’s all “COME AT ME” but Conchobar and Fergus step in to restrain the other two (again)

sad

anyway, everybody agrees that this is getting to be way too much but they can’t think of a solution

what do they do

THEY FEAST OF COURSE

so everybody’s feasting and whatnot, when suddenly the doors blow open, all dramatic like

and in comes a giant, who’s super ugly and frightening. he’s carrying an axe and a chopping block

surprising no one, he’s not here to sell some Girl Scout cookies

it gets really awkward because the giant’s glaring at them and they’re trying to avoid his gaze until finally Sencha asks what he wants

the giant says “I want to meet someone who can keep a bargain. I’ve been all over the world looking for such a person, but I haven’t found him yet. I’ve heard that you Ulstermen are always boasting about your bravery and your honor, so I’m here to put it to the test.”

Conchobar goes “alright, sounds lit. what’s the bargain?”

“well, first of all, you and Fergus are disqualified because you’re kings, so jot that down,” the giant says. “my bargain is this: someone chops off my head tonight, and I chop off yours tomorrow”

(scholarly digression #2: this sounds like a King Arthur story to you, doesn’t it? good news! the two stories are indeed related.)

anyway it doesn’t sound like a great bargain to any of the Ulstermen and so they kind of just stare at the giant

the giant finally says (I guess he really wants to play a head-chopping game) “isn’t there some sort of champion competition going on here? who’s the bravest in all the land and all that? well? come on up here and show me who’s the bravest”

all eyes turn to Loegaire

who’s not looking thrilled to be chosen first, let’s be honest

so Loegaire meanders unwillingly over to the giant and says “I chop your head off, right?”

“that’s right,” says the giant placidly. “and then tomorrow I chop off yours”

not exactly reassuring

“but, uh” says Loegaire. the giant hands him the axe. “if I chop your head off won’t you be dead?”

the giant lays his head on the chopping block and says “if I chop your head off, will you?”

which is the teensiest bit chilling, ya know?

but in the end peer pressure wins out and Loegaire chops off the giant’s head, which bounces across the room from the force of the blow

gruesome

everything’s silent for a moment. the giant doesn’t move. Loegaire breathes a sigh of relief.

then the giant gets up, walks across the room to pick up his head, walks back across the room and retrieves the axe from a horrified Loegaire, grabs the chopping block and says “see you tomorrow night.”

he leaves, his neck still streaming blood.

it puts everyone off their dinner, which is the real tragedy of the night

so the next night, everyone is again assembled, but this time they’re waiting for the giant to show up and kill Loegaire (I guess ‘cause there was nothing better to do)

the giant shows up, but Loegaire fled Emain and no one knows where he went

honestly? I don’t blame him

“sad,” the giant says. “who’s next?”

all eyes turn to Conall

he also does not look thrilled at being singled out

but again, peer pressure wins out, so he chops off the giant’s head

probably hoping that this time the death would actually stick

but it didn’t

giant gets up, retrieves his head and belongings, and heads out. “see you tomorrow night.”

tomorrow night arrives, and everybody’s waiting. the giant shows up, but Conall is nowhere to be seen.

“hmph,” says the giant. “you’re all miserable cowards, the lot of you. Ulster’s full of boasters but no brave men. say, where’s Cúchulainn?”

a few fingers point

“he’s a miserable squinting fellow, I’ve heard, but let’s see if he can keep his word”

Cúchulainn’s all “thanks but no thanks” so the giant shrugs and says, “fine, I get it. you’re just scared of dying. not brave at all. oh, well.” he turns to leave

“whAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?”

spoilers: Cúchulainn does Not Like being called a coward

he jumps up, runs forward, and grabs the axe from the giant

“LET’S GO”

he chops off the giant’s head, the giant gets back up and says “see you tomorrow night”

one version I read has Emer none too happy about this, and I kind of like it

“seriously Cúchulainn?? a mysterious stranger shows up and recovers from a beheading, and you agree to let him chop off your head? how can you be The Best if you’re DEAD”

priorities

tomorrow night arrives, the giant shows up and bellows “where is Cúchulainn?”

“here I am,” Cúchulainn says. he’s a lil depressed. understandably.

the giant has him come over to the chopping block and lay his head down. “stretch out your neck more,” the giant says

“it’s stretched,” Cúchulainn says

“it’s too tiny for me to chop. stretch it out more.”

Cúchulainn grumbles, most likely at the implication that he’s short, but stretches his neck out as far as it can go

the giant raises the axe

everybody looks away

the giant brings down the axe so that it lands on the floor. “congrats, you win”

everybody’s all “???”

( Cúchulainn’s all “neato I’m not dead”)

the giant says “you win the contest. you get the Champion’s Portion because you are the greatest hero in Ulster. also Emer is the greatest lady in Ulster. together, you two are The Best”

“aww yes,” Emer shouts. “also I’m glad you’re not dead, hon!”

“and,” the giant says, “anybody who contests this decision can FIGHT ME”

since he can recover from beheadings, nobody takes him up on the offer

Bricriu asks (like he doesn’t already know, pshh) who the giant is. the giant explains that he is Curoi Mac Daire, and he already judged the three of them when Bricriu asked him to (he was the giant that attacked them on the road), and he had chosen Cúchulainn as the winner. he came the last few nights to make sure that his verdict was upheld, since he knew Cúchulainn would be the only man in all of Ireland brave enough to fulfill his part in the bargain.

then he vanishes, and Cúchulainn is awarded the Champion’s Portion, and Emer is given the honor of going before all the other women in Ulster

and that’s how they became Ireland’s Top Couple

The End

[houseofvans]

 ART SCHOOL | Q&A w/ ALEX GAMSU JENKINS (UK)

With heroes like satirist James Gillary, the father of modern cartoon Hogarth, and American underground cartoonist Robert Crumb, it is no surprise that UK artist Alex Gamsu Jenkins’s illustrations are often dark, grotesque, odd, and pretty darn funny. Using humor as a tool to explore and satirize the world around him, Jenkins’s art is a visual commentary on the world, technology, and whatever else crosses his quick-witted mind. In our latest Art School, Alex shares with us his insight into his process, his art school experiences, and how he overcomes the dreaded– drawer’s block.

 Photographs courtesy of the artist. 

Who are you and what do you do.  Hello there, my name is Alex Gamsu Jenkins. The “Gamsu” is not a bad psuedo name but my mum’s surname as there is another illustrator under the name Alex Jenkins. That being I am an illustrator from South East London. 

How would you describe the work you create to someone whose never seen it? Hmmm, I like to draw odd scenairos which are often of a dark or grotesque nature. But not too much where I percieve it as overdone. That’s why its important to make them humouress or fun so its not overcooked and hopefully not cringey.

You’ve mentioned that your work utilizes humor as a tool to explore and satirize various topics. Do you have favorite satirist and humorists you look too? Who were some of your early artistic influences? I always have a memory of seeing Steve Bell’s caricatures in the Guardian. Particluary John Major in y-fronts , Tony Blair with his stressed bulging eye and more recently David Cameron with his Condom head. I was a fan of how he exagurated their personalities and conjured them into fleshy mass’s with their features. Of course you got your Gillray and Hogarth’s but my hero has gotta be Robert Crumb. His stuff can be looked at as so offensive, but often he’s flipping the script. He would attack and satirize all corners of society and leave no prisoners.

What about humor as an artistic tool do you find so effective when creating your illustrations that sometimes might focus on more critical subject matter? Humour is effective as it can act as a valve and help to balance an image. If the imaginary is 100% violent or macabre, humour can help to disolve the mood and cast a different light on it or make it more acceptable. Also you can probably get away with a load more if it’s under the bracket of comedy. Like Robert Crumb, his characters often delved deep into the taboo (his incestual nuclear family springs to mind), but humour can dilute the offence that is created by the initial image.

What’s your artistic process like and what’s the weirdest thing about your process? I really struggle to think of an idea whilst im walking around doing every day activities. I usually have to sit down and sketch and something will come from there. But I always dread it when my mind is blank and I know eventually I am going to have to sit down and force myself to think of things. I bloody hate the idea of that. I work another job somthimes which involves driving out of London early in the mornings, and strangely I feel in this morning gap (07:00 – 10:00 am) my brain seems more lively and I can get more quick fire ideas down.  I also need to urinate on these car journeys too, so maybe it’s the whole frantic nature of it which forces me to go into full throttle.

What mediums do you love to work with?  I went on a pilgrimage and now I’m fully enveloped into using a very cosmic Wacom cintq.. which is one of the fancy ones with a screen that you draw straight onto. So in a way I have neglected all of my beloved organic materials I grew up with, but I always promise them that we will meet again. I try to carry around a ring bound sketch book and black ink brush pens. I used to see people use the fancy moleskin sketch books with the nice paper. But I think my hands are too big so it would always feel a very uncomfortable experience for me, or they are more for show then being practical.

Can you tell us about your art school experiences, both positive and negative, having recently graduated Camberwell  College of Arts? Before I went to art school, I had these expectations and hopes that it would be a cauldron of talent and expression and that we would be carefully sculpted and guided into successful artists. I quickly found out it had an eerily similair feeling to secondary school. Just my peers are middle class and I wasn’t getting punched in the back on route to lessons. When I trawl over my memories of both secondary school and Art college, everything has dulcit and grey tones to it. Aside from the mundanity I found with Camberwell. It pushed me to have a very good work ethic as the projects came thick and fast. So when it came to being on my own, I still had it drilled into me to try and churn work out.

What makes you smile when viewing art?  Hmm that’s tough. With things like Instagram and the internet at the ready, other peoples’ work is so accessible now that it has the risk of all becoming quite saturated. I think the things that stand out for me are the subject matter and the humour. Especially the quirkier the better.

 What do you think is the biggest misconception about artists? I was always a bit embarrassed when art or illustration would come up in conversation with my friends that I had grown up with from school and that it was something that I had decided to pursue (otherwise it is something that would never of come into convo). I aways feel its something that isn’t taken very seriously, especially by my friends who work normal or manual jobs. Music and film are creative forms which are far more accepted by most, as opposed to illustration which I feel a misconception is its viewed as a luxury or something that isn’t necessary. I would often find myself having to justify it with my friends.

How do you overcome drawer’s block? I dread it when it comes, but I find what helps most is of course sketching and moving onto the next idea quickly. But also if I’m really stuck, then change the environment I’m in. There is nothing worse then feeling stale, groggy crusty and out of ideas. Drink some water, go for a walk, get the blood flowing and then start sketching where ever you end up is what I say.

What type of music do you listen to when creating? I have a routine of watching boxing interviews and opinions on youtube. It can be incredibly mind numbing, but when its looping in the background it almost becomes a white noise and I think somehow, this spurs me on into the twilight hours.

In another life, what would you be doing if you weren’t an artist?  Probably doing something manual but also didn’t involve to much brain power, like garden labouring or something. I remember breifly being in office enviroments and feeling claustrophobic and frustrated. At least with physical work there was always a sense of achievement at the end of the day.

Favorite Vans? I’m gonna be that guy and say Vans Old Schools, probably the most obvious choice one could make. 

What’s next for you? There is lots on my to do list, the main thing is to actually get round to doing them. A solo show would be great and I keep saying getting to grips with animation. I think more for the short term would be to take more time on work, and maybe not focus so much on churning stuff out for the sake of it. Focus more on detail and honing my skills (if I actually have any). Oh and of course to eventually stray away from the wacom.

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[snippychicke]

Of Monsters & Men -- Two

So, here’s the second part of the set-up chapters. I tried to find a way to get these two chapters a little less...dry, but I don’t think I succeeded. 

I do want to post this Every Friday and Every Monday, but obviously that might not work. I do plan at least once a week, hopefully two. 

Shout outs!   @idesinfection, @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-asgard @aislinsekhem

Want added to the list? Just send me a note or anything to let me know! 

Title: Of Monsters and Men

Rating:  Innocent (G)

Chapter: Two

It was the small, pale girl and tall shy young man that caught your attention as they handed out flyers on the sidewalk in front of the store....or at least trying to. Everyone seemed to pass the two without even a glance, let alone pausing for the slightest of moments to accept one of the the pieces of paper. McNally had left the shop on an errand, and the small deli and grocery store was quiet now that the noon-hour rush had died down, leaving you to people-watch through the large front windows.

The small girl paused after a moment, a hand pressed to her stomach as she tugged on the older boy’s coat. He had a struck look on his face, pained as he shook his head. And maybe the hardened New Yorker could pass by two hungry children, (well, the boy wasn’t quite a child, but the point still stood) but you couldn’t. You quickly made up two sandwiches back in the small breakroom and grabbed two bottles of coke.

“Excuse me,” you called out as you approached the two. The girl was startled, and the boy looked wary. You offered a soft smile along with the sandwiches and drinks. “Here. You guys looked kinda hungry.”

The girl was hesitant only for a short while before grabbing the sandwich and the bottle. The young man was far more hesitant, however; his dark eyes shadowed by his hat as he continued to eye you cautiously. “It’s okay. No charge. You guys just looked hungry and I’m not one to ignore someone in need.”

He fleetingly met your eyes before glancing away again before hesitantly accepting the offer. “So, what are your names?”

“Modesty,” the girl answered cheerfully as she finished half of her sandwich in a few bites. “He’s Credence.” She paused before picking out a flyer tucked in her satchel and handing it to you. “We’re spreading truth about witches.”

At first, you chuckled as you accepted the flyer. Surely this was an odd joke, or a game. But...the flyer looked professionally done, with a woodcut image of naked women dancing around a smoking cauldron. The text inside read like one of those hateful rants you had heard in the past; usually the pastor when he had too much to drink. There was nothing childish or playful about it. “Momma hunts the witches,” Modesty continued after a moment with the conviction only a child could have. “She ain’t gonna let them ruin our world.”

Credence looked rather ashamed and avoided your gaze when you glanced at him. Ah, so he knew how silly that sounded. “I...see.” There was a pause before you continued far more upbeat. “Well, if you need anything, you come back here, okay?” It was easy to see both of them looked a little on the lean side, especially judging by the way Modesty had all but inhaled her food.

“Ma doesn’t like it when we talk to strangers for too long,” Credence spoke quietly after a second when Modestly had all but beamed at your apparent acceptance. The sulleness in his voice spoke of learned pessimism, which only made you more determined.

“Well then,” you offered a hand and your name, your smile everything but fake as he hesitantly accepted it. “There, now you know my name and I know yours. We’re not strangers anymore.”

The was a look of surprise on his face, and the grip on your hand tightened just a little before he hastily let go. Modesty grabbed your hand instead, shaking it with a smile on her face. “We don’t have any friends other than the other orphans,” she confided, “People don’t like us much.”

Well, with odd leaflets and a mother that apparently believed in such things as witches and magic despite living in the twentieth century, it was little wonder. But you filed that little tidbit away in your mind, leaving it unvoiced.

***

As long as you repaid him for the sandwiches, McNally turned a blind eye to your lunch dates with Modesty and Credence when they frequented the corner by the store, though you heard a snide remark a few times about the leaflets that usually were left abandoned on a table or the counter. Usually you would agree with him, but if the older man said something in front of the pair, you graced him with a dark look.

Especially around Credence. Modesty had this naivety that was common in children her age. But her adopted brother--who had to be somewhere between fifteen and nineteen, surely no more than twenty-- was fully aware of the opinion of others around them. Just the way he walked and talked reminded you of a beaten pup, worried and fully expecting someone to just start wailing on him out of the blue.

Of course, being the girl that got into too many fights by standing up for the bullied kids and animals back home, that did not set well with you. You made it your goal to bring the boy out of his shell, though carefully once you realized bullheadedness was not going to help. One slightly-sharp word or a snide bit of sarcastic banter had him retreating into himself, putting you back at square one of trying to draw him out of his metaphorical shell once more. It frustrated you as much as it made you even more determined to get a smile out of him.

“Credence, can you be a dear and help me for a moment?” You stuck your head out of the shop’s door. He was only making a half-hearted attempt at handing out the flyers while Modesty had abandoned them and was far more interested in the small doll you had snuck her earlier that day. The boy had a suspicious, wary look as always whenever you singled him out. But a reassuring smile from you and a glance to assure his sister was safe and content gave him enough courage to follow you into the store, silent as you lead him back into the store room.

“You see those bags of flour?” You pointed up to the self about a foot too high for you to reach where the bags in question rested innocently. “I can’t find that darn footstool anywhere and hoped you could reach ‘em.”

Sure enough, as you may have planned while hiding the step stool in the broom closet, the tall boy had little difficulty reaching the five-pound bags, and silently grabbed one and offered it to you. You gave a grin as you accepted it and hoisted it in one arm. “Perfect! Okay, give me a few more and then if you could carry the rest that would be wonderful.”

He looked more than a little bashful as he followed you out a few moments later, but he didn’t look as haunted as usual either as he helped you restock the shelves, which you considered as a win and also as reason to find him a few other things to do as well. The boys height was a boon as he could easily reached thing you would have struggled with otherwise, even with the hidden step-stool.

“Perfect!” You clapped your hands as he finished the last job: getting the darn cobwebs in the corner that had plagued you for the last week since you couldn’t reach even with the help of a step-stool and a long broom. “Here, you earned it.” You offered the dollar, which earned a rather surprised look as he met your eyes--briefly, but it was longer than any time before, before he looked away and shook his head reluctantly. “Hey, a worker earns his wages. And you did a lot for me.”

“I-I can’t ma’am.” he muttered quietly, making you struggle to hear him as usual. “Ma...Ma wouldn’t approve.”

A frown crossed your face. The more you heard of their mother the less you liked her, and you hadn’t even met her yet. The need to press him, to encourage him to take his wage despite whatever his mother thought pressed at you, but you forced yourself to tuck the bill back into the pocket of your apron along with your instincts. Being your usual bossy self was not going to work here, and you had to pick and choose your battles. “Well then, we’ll start an account for you. That way you can come here and buy what you want, whenever you want to. How about that?”

He met your eyes briefly again, surprised and you swore after a long moment there was a hint of a smile on his lips as he looked away once more. “I-I would like that, ma’am.”

“Perfect,” you grinned, mentally cheering to yourself, “and I told you, you can call me by my name. I’m not that much older than you.”

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered as if your tease was an actual scolding, which made you internally curse as he unconsciously flinched as he caught his slip. “S-sorry. I-I mean…”

“Hey, whatever you're comfortable with,” you reassured him again, ducking so you could keep eye contact with him while your hand rested on his arm. “I suppose I am a bit bossy enough to be a ma’am, huh?” He didn’t speak, but the trepidation eased from his expression and made you smile a bit more in return. “Alright. Make sure you and Modesty grab a few of those penny candies before you leave. McNally wants to start selling another brand but we gotta get rid of them first.” Actually, he had said nothing of the like except for a passing comment, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Especially as you heard Credence echo Modesty’s thanks later on that afternoon, first name replacing your usual title.

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