Graphics

Sculpture

I sculpt, occasionally, in alabaster, soapstone and wood, with forays into lost wax casting in bronze. Although I was for a time an Associate Coin and Medal Designer (through the Artistic Infusion Program) for the United States Mint, I was not a sculptor, but instead provided design drawings for their sculptors in Philadelphia.

For a friend's Bat Mitzvah in South Africa in 2011, I carved this menorah from Israeli olivewood and copper tubing. It's about 10" x 6" x 2". Its simple shape was surprisingly difficult to achieve.

My friend Dahinda was ill, and I made him a small (3” x 3”) Buddha out of soapstone. We rather irreverently called it Buddha Boy. It was designed to be a tactile comfort, and apparently he was holding it when he died. 2014.

My daughter had a thing for hedgehogs, and if they hadn’t been illegal in California she would have had several as pets. So instead I made her one out of soapstone — Henry. 2013.

For a friend I carved this menorah, also from Israeli olivewood. Olivewood is as hard as ebony to carve, and smells of burned olive oil when sawn or sanded. I wanted an organic look, and came up with the tree. Green candles, even though they should probably have been blue, symbolized its leaves. Inlaid around each branch was silver wire. 10" x 8" x 3", 1980.

In 2007 I was taking my daughter to our nearest beach at that time, Seal Beach, when I realized they lacked a significant sign at the gateway to its old town. I came up with this design and submitted it to their city council, but heard nothing back. Lately I've been trying to generate a grassroots support through the local papers.

A friend lost his much-loved Chow Chow, and it took me a while, but I carved him this in black soapstone. I liked it so much I had it copied in bronze before I sent it off. 3" x 3", 2016.

Our family's much-loved dog Mocha, in her winter curl. Unidentified wood burl. 6" diameter.

Buddha 1, bronze. 2006. 2.5" tall.

Editorial Illustrations

My book “The Office Manual,” (Two Heads, UK, 1993), featured illustrations in a style I think of as “battered line,” looking like something Xeroxed a dozen times. This one, “The Evolution of Office Work,” depicts the drudgery of working through the centuries, something of which I’ve always been keenly aware.

"The History Of Love," one of the woodcut-style illustrations from my book "The Love Manual," (Two Heads, UK, 1995) and "Dating, Mating, Relating" (Longmeadow, US, 1995). The Love Manual became quite popular in the UK, possibly due to a double-page spread review in The Sun newspaper, which at that time had a readership of 13 million.

Around 1980, before I learned how to recreate the look of a woodcut without actually carving one, I made this real woodcut for a church whose choir I sang in for several years. I don't believe they ever used it.

“The Cat In Art,” a brush illustration for my book “Cat’s Eye View” (Two Heads, UK, 1994), “The Cat Manual” (Longmeadow, US, 1995), supposedly showing how the cat has been depicted in different ages. I enjoyed researching the various styles of art.

“The first and only experiment with guide cats for the blind,” a brush illustration for my book “Cat’s Eye View” (Two Heads, UK, 1994), “The Cat Manual” (Longmeadow, US, 1995). I was already thoroughly experienced in Illustrator by this time, but I’ve never liked its brushes. This kind of illustration was made with a small sable brush and ink, scanned in and manipulated digitally.

Logo for my magazine column, “Ask Smudge” (1996), in which Smudge answers pets’ letters with jaded and sarcastic responses. Never sold.

Brush illustration to announce the birth of our daughter Georgia, 1999.

The book I planned to write and illustrate after “The Office Manual” (1993), “The Cat Manual” (1995), and “The Driver’s Manual” (1996), was “Care and Feeding of the Human Male” (1997). This is one of its illustrations, in scratchboard. Unpublished.

The book I planned to write and illustrate after “The Office Manual” (1993), “The Cat Manual” (1995), was “The Driver’s Manual” (1996). These illustrations were of supposedly important cars throughout history, the Hupmobile Zeppelin, the Heinkel-Benz Ausgefahrtsfuhrermeisterhofbrau, the Morris Mole, and the Cadillac Chesterfield. Scratchboard. Unpublished.

"The Tudor Style," test page of The Stylebook, an idea of mine for a directory of the major styles of art and design throughout history, from around 1980. Watercolors and inks. Other styles would have been treated in the same way, showing clothing, housing, transportation, and typography of the time, from antiquity to the present day. Because this was such an encyclopedic project, I put together this one finished illustration and chapter, and roughly indicated two other styles for comparison, showing how the same format applied to each, making it easy for the reader to compare the evolution of styles. Thames & Hudson, and Quarto, both in London, seriously entertained the possibility of publishing, but I think because I was not a "name," they declined. Unsold.

The London house I grew up in, pen and ink, in the Victorian style typical of magazines immediately pre-halftone (1890-1900), which I loved. Probably drawn around 1980 from a photo. The hedges were a little neater when my father was around to trim them — the photograph I based this on must have been taken after he left.

Prints

My attempts to joining the fine arts circuit did not take off — I was interested in tight and detailed work just as the market was swinging toward the gestural and, well, scribbly, so my timing was off. But that didn't stop me from trying.

“Fire,” a 21-color serigraph printed in a limited edition of 250 with the help of Aztlan Multiples, Los Angeles, around 1981. Intended to be the first of a series of mosaic-patterned prints, but met with indifference by the galleries. Copies have appeared in scenes of “Doctor Dolittle” (the Eddie Murphy version) and “Alien Nation” the TV series.

An early experiment from 1973, in inks. I wanted to see if I could get the truck to read by only showing its highlights and its shadows — the vehicle itself is not actually shown.

Around 1980 I was experimenting with etching. Aside from the more traditional intaglio and aquatint type, I tried a deeper, multileveled plate. This is Monterey, 1979.

“Into the Twenty-first,” inks, 1982, intended to be the next serigraph release after “Fire,” but also met with disinterest by the L.A. art community. My work was just not fashionable at that time. Since prints were so expensive, I abandoned the idea.

Portraits

I've drawn over two hundred portraits for editorial and advertising use.