Tag Archives: illustration

Drawkward: I want a nation to bleed ink

Saturday dawned and a xyline feuled bloodlust inspired some affable peeps and myself to go lynchin’. White paper lynchin’. With permanent markers. Lookin’ mighty fine in dem jeans boy.


At Re: Capitoli’s Capitol theatre event my friend Sibu and I spread out 10 meters of bleached cellulose and stuck it to the wall with masking tape. Anyone could come in and blemish it with me. And they did. And it was sweet.

I’ve recently started learning music, an artform where people are naturally drawn together for a garage jam sesh sweatlodge.


This is rarely the case with drawing. I wanted to fix that. No longer did I have to choose between drawing delicious velociraptors and my friends. I could draw it with ’em. Or on ’em. Nom nom nom.


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Apply for a job by doing the job

I recently applied for an illustration job for TEDex Johannesburg. Instead of sending them a CV or writing some nonsense of me believing in whale-saving or biomechanical weasel-engineering, I just showed them I could draw. By drawing:

I-draw-awesomeI got the job.

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My dad taught me how to draw better than your dad and your stupid head

So that’s heartfelt. So here’s something crude to balance it out. Crud. I’ll crud a crudding crudsicle right up your crudhole, you crudsucking fathercrudder. Yeah, can’t really swear with this one, for it’s about crudsachets i.e. diapers, which are generally for kids.

We did this thing for Huggies for father’s day where we asked people to facebook or Tweet in what their favourite activity was to do with their male parental unit. And I drew every one.

My dad taught me how to draw. Damn, I love thatsonofabitch. Sorry grandma.

Look through them all. If you’ve got the stones.

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K the F O 3 !!!!!!!!!

That’s 9 exclamation marks. 3 x 3. I was going to go to 27, but you don’t want to get on the dark side of whoo-girls (I’m pretty sure you have to pay royalties to them for every exclamation mark you go over 4. ZOMG. YOLO).

It’s been nuts. But it’s done. Smear your ocular orbs with baby oil, because this puppy is on the offender list, namsayin’? Here’s the first one and the second, in case you missed it.

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Onward to the past

I recently came across some o’ the drawings I drew in the years of my youth. When I was about 16, in fact. I did this thing in high school where I drew on a piece of notepad with a blue ball point pen e’eryday (I called them my DAYLY DIABOLICAL DUBIOUS DEVIOUS DOODLES
of the DAY!!!!) and these are some of the self-indulgent spunk. You can even see them on my old deviantart page.

This was what I wrote in the description for this one.

“Sam and Max freelance police!
The goofy duo without sam…That’s like samdwich without the Sam, Sam-Francisco without the Sam And Sam and Max without the Sam. As you can see…Max is but a plushy of his former self.
Oh, and there’s a lion with fingers and a guy totally tripping on freebase. of Idiocy.

Strike the world by a hail of flaming bananas and concrete donkeys.
Good times…good times…

DDDDDotD ma’am.

Oh, yes and all fear the budgie of pain…Yadda, yadda”

Man, wasn’t that just an omen for the dark tidings of incoherent non-sequiturs  to come? It’s fun to review your past work/journal entries/effluvia emissions, because you’ll often find valuable insights into your current person. Mine was that I was tangy from the get-go.

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Ogilvy for Vendetta.

I’ve been scarce. And now I’m back with a vengeance.

I’ve started working for international communication powerchalet, Ogilvy. Where dream humongous is written in technicolour dreamcrunk on the roof, koi fish coyly tease peacocks and park-grade grass stain the ol’ pantaloons on a lunch break. Despite my predisposition to the ol’ McHyperbole, I’m not even exaggerating.

C’mon you guys! Yeah! Follow my wacky adventures as I learn so much it feels like I’ve got my eyes wrenched open and corneas badtouched a la Clockwork orange. My 9 to 5 is better than your 9 to 5. Believe it.

Ogilvy for victory

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Lookit me, I’m electric!

Okay, so we’d like to have superpowers. You might like to have battervision (deep fry with eyebeams) and I’d like to have the power to instantly be the life of the party.

But I’d settle for the might of Thor.

I’m making a comic where I’m the electric lad, or something similar. You don’t even have to be able to draw good. It boils down to being a kid. Kids paint pictures with their brainsauce, so get with the program.



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Making Face Melting Comics: Step 3.1 Greatscale!

Due to my computer’s untimely demise I had to redo the bulk of K the F O 3’s colouring.

Here’s me getting back on the unsaturated horse.

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Get Zooey Deschanel to star in the movie that is your life


My friend, James, met this girl at a Prodigy concert.

He didn’t get her blood-type, he didn’t get her number, heck, he didn’t even get her name.

We codenamed her “Jenni”, becuase that’s what it sounded like to James, in his head, which is the same head as the one who didn’t ask a girl’s (who freely stood on her head ’cause it looked fun) name.

Man, I have to simplify my parentheses.

Anyway, we’re on a search for her.

This is the only photo we have, and of course, her’s would be the face that you can’t see. So if anyone can recognise her obscured profile, or knows her friend or knows someone who know’s their dentist or something equally ridiculous, leave a comment.

Romantic comedies are lame if they don’t become real life endeavours, and foo on anyone who says different.


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