Tea & Noodles

First post of the year came a little later in January than I expected. I'm moving from Bristol in two weeks time and I somehow managed to find time to draw, so here is what I achieved!  My final drawing was more a combination of wishful thinking and the feeling of being trapped. Which, seemed to just appear in my work. I wanted to try a night time effect as well in Photoshop- I think it works, guess I'll see from any comments I get.

I'm sure they'll be time for words next year, Speak to you all in 2013!

As this blog is a place of not just my drawing but my writing and love for film, I'm going to elaborate a little bit on my reviews I've been doing on Twitter and talk a little about them on my blog too...  So, today I will now be talking about two things that I've got into recently; firstly I shall talk about what everyone's talking about:  The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.  I saw the Hobbit on Friday, in 2D (though I will see it again in 3d/48 fps) and I really enjoyed myself. It was a very merry jaunt into middle earth if ever there was one. I did have two problems with the film, and honestly, they're rather small and don't change my thoughts or emotions about the film. The length. It's pretty long at 2 hours 50 miniutes and it does seem slow at times because of this... However, everything that was included was needed. I do mean everything too. I can't think of anything that doesn't keep you interested or tells you information that you as an...

He could tell right away someone had been in his house. The glass splattered the hall way and blood lingered on the door window pane. Crunching the glass with his boots Andy Sparks turned to his light switch; there were no lights either: great. Another step forward. The cottage was small so their wasn't a lot of room to hide and he feared what he would find in the darkness. He turned to look into the galley kitchen and froze as a groan rang out from behind him – pained and muffled from the living room. He turned round slowly and crept to the archway. “Who's there?” he raised his mobile phone like a weapon which had been doubling as a torch. “Show yourself or I'll call the police...” He tailed off as a figure came into view in the half light. He gaped; going ashen as he looked upon her and how her hands seemed to will him towards them. “Andy...” rasped the figure, her voice painful to the ear. “Andy it's me...you have to--” “Shh!” he hushed her as ...

I did a few doodles after a very unproductive day. Animation day and sorting the forum tomorrow and Tuesday and Creative Writing on Thursday. Am I excited? Yes, yes I am! 

As I've been very quiet of late I'd thought I'd update pockets of information to you all to show you that I am not dead. So, what's going on? 1. I'm considering "The Big Move" towards London (scary stuff) 2. I'm currently Forum Moderator for the Adobe Generation Animation Course. If you've not heard of it and you're interested in animation it's definitely worth checking out. An online course that's once a week and a piece of homework for the following week and it's not just animation either. Game Design and Photo Imaging and a nice little certificate at the end too. Check it all out here:  http://www.adobegeneration.com/ 3. I've been asked to be story artist for another independent project currently known as "The Invention Series" three five minute films all about the invention of a "button" but they'll be more on that to follow up next time.  And last but not least, I'm drawing again! Littl...

We had a solider living across the road from me when I was growing up. Saving many during the war even though we lost. New regimes immediately followed like a virus, sweeping a broken country to serve a new government. People like him were tucked away, lucky to not be a prisoner of war. He stayed hidden in plain sight, keeping his thoughts and opinions to himself; he like most were lucky to have his body as intact as his brain. Maybe it was why he never tried to defend us all again.... My brother was eleven when he was shot outside his front lawn. Murdered on the spot by corrupt police. I remember standing on the other side of the street with my parents; they were screaming for justice, but what is justice now but only a burning reminder of what the war cost us. He spoke to me, only once. “ Am I as hated as it appears?” he asked, standing at a bus stop consuming a cigarette. Worn and thin, battered down by this new life, skin like old milk and bags under glass eyes...