317 (Summer is Over)
It is Labor Day, which means that everything after today is somehow less fun than anything that preceded it. Rule of seasons!
294 (TerrorFace)
I saw a an enormously enjoyable scary movie tonight, so it follows that today's robot would be frightening. Hey PS did I mention some artwork got featured on a blog last week? This is exactly the venue I've been shooting for all these months.
226 (Salvalged Wreckage)
I know you probably don't care about the ins and outs of any given robot's conception and execution, which is why I almost never bore you with the details of how something was sketched on 84.3% acid-free semibristol with 2H lead before being inked with Waterman black ink in a Faber Castell E-Motion(tm) Fountain pen with a Medium nib (the second half of this sentence is frequently the truth, but it's also completely meaningless and unnecessary information, since ingredients are really only useful in science experiments and baking - two things that are not a part of this website). Today's robot is largely unimpressive in terms of the steps that went into it - pencil sketch, inking, scanning, Illustrator, a brief layover at Photoshop International Airport, finally arriving here - and I only bring them up because I had such a miserable time working on it. Like, I was so discouraged with the piece/the day/whatever after inking it that I went and took a nap because that is my System to deal with emotional problems that occur between 3 and 5pm. Then Illustrator wouldn't do what it was supposed to, and on, and on, until finally I dragged its screeching miserable shell onto the internet. Listen: I hope you don't hate it.
_________________ by Mo Martin
"And the third miracle of T-145 the Blessed, is that when he was martyred for his belief, he bled true blood, and not the synthetic nanite liquid he was programmed with." "But why," clamored the sunday school children, a mixed multitude equally human and robot, "why if he has three confirmed miracles is T-145 not yet a full saint?" And what could he tell them. They were too young for the bitter truth, that the Church was both divine, and all too human.