In the early 60s, Frank Zappa wrote a movie script which was to feature Captain Beefheart in the main role. The title of the script was, quite appropriately, Captain Beefheart vs The Grunt People. The story involved the Captain taking a pony ride to the moon, where he ends up confronting The Grunt People. Shock! Horror! Partial nudity!
Not so surprisingly, the project never came to fruition and all that exists to this day is a typed out scenario. For the upcoming Cucamonga documentary, Gaby and I were asked to design an imaginary film poster. Behold!
The drawings and some of the coloring are my work, Gaby did the collage, lettering, and added the “aged poster” look. Here’s the original Cpt. Beefheart drawing:
… and here’s a detail of the colored version:
Lots of artwork going on. I’ll most probably be illustrating the German version of a biography of a “very well known musician” (hint: Waltzing Mathilda!). Gabriela and I are also working on a series of collages for a feature film documentary dedicated to Frank Zappa’s Cucamonga days (early to mid ’60s). To whet your appetite, here’s a drawing I made from a very fuzzy photo downloaded from the interwebs:
Back from a wonderful vacation in England and Ireland. We visited London, Dublin, Galway and one of the Aran Islands. Good times!
See Flickr for more.
To my devastation though, upon arriving back home, I seem to have lost my sketchbook. It was in a bag together with my leather jacket and a Woody Allen biography — all of which are now missing as well. I don’t care so much about the book or the jacket (both are replaceable items anyway), but loosing my sketchbook, well, that makes me kinda sad. There’s all sorts of stuff inthere; sketches from Buenos Aires, imaginary doodles, little ideas and scribbles, and of course my Dublin/Aran/Galway drawings… I’ve called the railway’s lost & found department to see if they had recovered it, but to no avail.
The plan now is to spread some flyers around the train station as well as around my neighbourhood (may well be that we left the bag outside my front door, thus allowing anyone to take it with them). But frankly? I don’t think I’ll ever see it back again.
Thirty degrees in the early evening.
My pens, every single one of them, have quite literally refused to produce any proper lines on paper. Has the ink gone bad? Gabriela tried cleaning a pen just now, but to no avail. I’ve got the inkfinger but not a single decent drawing to show for it. I should be frustrated, damning the muse for letting me down. Instead, I look at this picture and I smile: