We’ve decided to start doing a weekly feature on what inspires each of us throughout the week, and when we can, give you a little taste of what projects we’ve been working on.
Joseph here. I’ve been pretty preoccupied with this illustration I’ve been working on. It’s for my band’s new EP, which is coming out soon soon soon (Jam Therapy is the group in question).
Some of the inspirations for the drawing include the album packaging for Fleet Foxes’ Helplessness Blues and The Beatles’ Revolver. Not only are they great albums musically, but the packaging for both beautifully incorporates elements of collage and saturation of detail and patterns/textures. Also, they evoke a sort of stream-of-consciousness notion, which is something he’s trying to explore a bit.
I’ve also been looking at several of my favorite illustrators for guidance. One of my new favorite is David Habben mainly because of his STELLAR ink work. Wow.
Oh, and I’ve been listening to Silver & Gold by Sufjan Stevens a bunch. (If you click that link, you can listen to it, too). CHRISTMAS MUSIC! Anyway, here’s a little sneak peek at what I’ve got so far; then I’ll shut up and pass it off to Holli. Good talk:
This board might look a little strange, but it kind of all boils down to two things: Writing and Christmas.
Christmas crazy inspires me to make things. So this week I ended up at Hobby Lobby all because I was going to make soap (but haven’t yet), and I baked an apple pie. (You can read about that here if you haven’t).
I’ve also started watching Castle. It’s such a good show, and I woke up with cool crime story in my head and started writing. I don’t have much to show yet because I’ve been developing my characters and plot carefully, but I can sneak peek you the ROUGH intro. (And would love feedback). By the way, the main character looks like Ben Wyatt on Parks and Recreation to explain Adam Scott’s presence on my inspiration board.
What inspires YOU this week?
There she stood, frazzled, unable to speak and covered in blood. Her hair, it was long and brown, and I could tell her locks would normally be flowy. That wasn’t the case today. Her sweat-drenched hair held together in clumps like grease that stuck to her pale, dirty face.
She was dressed in a plain white t-shirt covered in spots of dark brown dirt. There was a small slit beginning to form straight down the middle, so that her shirt hung loosely over her left shoulder. From the looks of it, this woman had been in some trouble. But what was it? She couldn’t tell me anything.
Her face was pale, but her features nice. Her hair was dark—her black eyebrows made even darker by the cut on top of her forehead. Her lips were naturally a blush color, though the lower half of her face was swollen and starting to bruise.
What told me all I needed to know, truly, was her eyes. Big, brown, holding back tears and haunting as hell. I knew she had a story to tell, that she had seen things. What those were, though, there was really no time to ask.
Looking back, I didn’t even question why she came to me. I assumed my doorstep just happened to land in the way of what was an escape route of sorts. After all, if one was looking to find somebody who would answer the door, an apartment complex is a good place to start. I scooped this small, probably undernourished woman up in my arms. She moaned slightly before she leaned her head against my chest and closed her eyes. My brotherly instincts kicked in. This woman in my arms, 20-something, reminded me so much of Danni.
I don’t think I’ve ever driven so fast in this city, though every minute felt like a lifetime. Once I got to the E.R., I waited for a bit, but I really couldn’t be late for court. Especially not when my excuse would be, “Oh, I was just waiting for a complete stranger to wake up.”
I left the nurse my card and told her to call me when the girl woke up. I would send some police over to interview her, if needed. It was difficult to walk away. I had so many questions, but I promised myself I’d come back as soon as I could break away.
But 5:30 p.m. was too late. She was gone. The same nurse, still on duty, said the girl ripped her IVs out and half-way bandaged, managed to escape unnoticed, around 10 a.m. The room was left as if no one had ever been there. All this, she said, before they even figured out her name. The nurse assumed the girl must have been on drugs and didn’t want them to know who she was. That wasn’t it, though.
Drugs I had seen. I’m the district attorney. I know drugs. I know what they do to a person and more so, I know what they don’t do. This girl wasn’t on drugs. She was running from something, more likely, someone.