Here is what I have so far on my new woodcut. The new larger scale is slowing me down, but I hope to at least have the carving done by my 29th birthday. That gives me about a week. Wish me luck.

I came up with the idea of making an attachment for my bike that sketches my path behind me as I ride. With the help of Justin Turcotte’s ingenuity, crayola chalk, and my own pedal power I was able to make it happen. I documented the original drawing by taking 946 photos. This is still a work in progress. More to come soon.

I’m working on an illustration for the KRCC fall t-shirt. Here is what I have so far.

The first sketches for my new woodcut! I’m carving a 24″x32″ piece of birch plywood. Wish me luck here I go.

This is what my niece Ada looked like after a day of selling paper airplanes.

I have been thinking a lot about the abyss and what happens when you stare into it. In fact it was about a year ago that I was sitting on my friend Molly’s back porch when I declared (and let it be noted I don’t often declare), “People always say don’t stare into the abyss, but you know what I’m not staring at it, it’s staring at me!” I meant it truly and I suppose I have been thinking about it ever since. I talked about it all through my spring class here at Penland, because I felt like I was finally standing, staring blindly right into that abyss. Then just today I picked up this book by Joseph Campbell called “The Power of Myth” and read the line, “One thing that comes out in myths is that at the bottom of the abyss comes the voice of salvation”. Maybe just maybe this is why I am so drawn to folklore, isn’t folklore just a version of myth?

If you stare into the Abyss long enough the Abyss stares back at you. —Nietzsche

Spring is officially here in these parts. Yesterday I spent the day drawing in an apple orchard off of the Blue Ridge Parkway. The Altapass Orchard to be exact.  The sky was blue and the apple blossoms were out. I spent most of the day hiking about, chasing trains, and not drawing much of anything. It wasn’t until I found an old patch of apple trees tucked away from the heat that I sat down and actually did some drawing.  I can’t say I wanted to be anywhere else.

The beginning of a book possibly. I have been avoided making books for years now. They mostly bore the crap out of me to be honest and I suppose I am afraid of making boring books. Oh well gotta start somewhere. It just seems inevitable. I make prints that are either begging to be stories or are only text. Why not bring the narrative together?