Three Monks

Despair

My head hurts.

The world is dark and cold.

Wallowing in an invisible sack of self loathing
one can only wonder why
the world seems so
oblivious to my pain.

What is the point in it all anyway?

Professor Phynn, WIP conitnued

Phynn wormed his way onto the bench this weekend for some long awaited tweaking. I have added some years to his robe, added a second scroll, and worked out placement of the belt that will eventually carry a variety of instruments for his scientific explorations. Still a bunch to do, but I feel pretty good about the base and direction he is going.

I need to now start thinking of brass telescopes, compasses, and indescribable steam-punk-ish accoutrement's.

His would-be sidekick has been banished to "The Shelf". I was getting absolutely no cooperation out of the guy and felt it would be better to set him aside rather than continue the frustration of seeing him mock me from prime bench-top space.
Take that, Bernoulli! ( yes, the unfinished thing has a name already)

Captain Lobotomy

Fronkensteen

Sometimes the clay knows best. I started this piece a week ago with no direction or premise. It was just a lump of clay over a foil armature. As I do many times, I pushed and pulled at the clay until a character began to form. I had no idea I was about to visit the realms of one of the most iconic movie monsters ever, but what the heck, right? So anyway, I give to you my interpretation of The Frankenstein Monster.( with a definite steampunk vibe)

Oh wait....it is pronounced Fronkensteen!

Thatcher

Thatcher was once a strong and agile young man. He had a thriving business mending roofs for the townsfolk, farmers, and the dwellers of the woods. One day while he traveled deep into the forest, he happened across the small untidy hut of a feeble old lady. She beckoned to him.

"Thatcher,' she called out as he approached, "There is a hole in my roof. I have no money to pay, but can grant you a wish if you will fix my leaky roof."

Thatcher was familiar with bartering, but was woefully unaware of the underhanded dealings of the crazy old "bottle lady". He kindheartedly agreed, knowing he would collect no payment this day, and started the repairs. Upon completion of the task, the old hag asked Thatcher what his wish was. Jokingly, he chuckled that he wished that hers was the last rooftop he ever saw.

As Thatcher lay down for the night, huddled under his cart, he thought of the old lady and his wish. When he woke the next morning, he found his wish had been granted. Thatcher was blind, and as requested, would never see another rooftop.

Props of the Past : Dr. Spew the Puking prop

I was browsing through some old pix and came across this puking prop I made sometime around 2007. This project was one that I was coerced into making. My Uncle Dan dropped the barrel off and in no uncertain terms stated that I needed to make a puking guy...so I did, leaving Dan to figure out how to automate the puking process so the good doctor didn't hurt himself spewing forth a solid stream all night long. The mechanism Dan developed was actually quite ingenious. It utilized a float valve and a regulated water return to make the animation 100% autonomous. When Dr. Spew first chucks, he fills a reservoir that, when full, trips the float valve to turn the sump pump off. The reservoir slowly drains until the float turns the pump back on, and the cycle is repeated....hours of vomitous entertainment ensue. The massive volume you see in these pictures eventually was fine-tuned to a controlled and contained upchuck.

Dr. Spew is still operational to this day, and has been everything from a mad scientist to an unfortunate potion master/ wizard. (and even an impromptu political protest....but that's another story)