My Armour Is Like Tenfold Shields

 

 I'm pretty much entirely looking forward to the Hobbit coming out this Christmas. :) Trying out a more storybook style. 

Mouse Guard Art

Right, time for something a bit less dramatic than the last post! You know what's wonderful? Mice are wonderful. So is David Petersen's series Mouse Guard, which gives them swords and capes. I've done things based on it in the past and I'm sure I will again, since it's one of those comics which I really feel like I can connect with. Thanks for making a great series, David! :)

I wonder why mice make such good protagonists? I mean, there are quite a few comics and plenty of animations about them. They make a pretty good natural under-dog.

July 2012

 I really think more hospitals should have gorgeous murals on the walls. I didn't actually paint one on mine sadly, but I had it plastered with get-well cards, so that's just as good.

This was pretty difficult to do. I always shy away from being too personal about my work; silly British sensibilities, I suppose. But I've got a  few reasons for making this; for one,  this was the kind of thing which I think warranted a personal response. I want to get past it, move on, and this seemed like a good way of starting that.

For two, I wanna explain to friends and folk who are interested more or less what happened. Comics seem a more fun way of doing that.

For three, I found very little non-heavily-medical info on endocarditis - very few anecdotes, survival stories, etc. I wanted to provide this to anyone else unlucky enough to find themselves with the condition. Things totally do get better, much better. <3

So anyway, last month is one of those things which came completely out of nowhere, knocked me for sideways and taught me the lesson that no, in fact, I am not immortal, and nor is anyone else. I'm actually out of hospital now, though I started this while I was in it and thought it was nicer like this. c:

I didn't really include it here, but I'm gonna take this opportunity just to say how damn thankful I am for the NHS. I don't even want to imagine what my medical bills would have been if I were in the 'States.

In other news, minor brain damage is a strange thing to have. For all the sensation my right foot lacks, it totally still has pain, and I've totally rammed doors into it on a few occassions from not knowing where it is in space. The vertigo thing has started to repair itself - but not how I was expecting. Now I get it if I move my head from right to left, but not the other way around. What the hell, brain? What the hell?

Friends and family and work have been beyond incredible.

Finally, some information on infective endocarditis for folk who, like me last month, haven't the first clue what it is. Heart valves have no blood supply of their own and thus no means of fighting infections; therefore if they do get infected, they can't do a thing. It builds up into something called a vegetation (gross, I know) and eventually fragments off into the system, causing organ damage, as well brain damage, effectively micro-strokes. I'm seriously lucky to have gotten away with relatively few lasting effects. I also didn't need heart surgery, Fff yeeeeeah. Just, like, all the IV antibiotics ever.

Certain people are at more risk than others; if you've got an abnormal heart valve, you're much more likely to get it. Apparently, mine's a slightly weird shape; it works fine, it's never affected my health before, but seemingly that's all it takes. No way of knowing if you've not had a heart scan.

Endocarditis is a risk anytime bacteria could enter the bloodstream. Dental is a common cause, so are tattoos or IV drug use. Mine probably came from an infected mosquito bite about two months ago, which is what we call reeeeeally bad luck. Symptoms are a lot like meningitis; fever, fatigue, etc. Y'know. Exactly the sort of thing you'd go 'LOL I'M FINE IT'S JUST THE FLU' about. -facepalm-

But don't worry, you'll probably never get it or meet anyone with it. xD Apparently in the UK, only about 1200 people get it each year. 

Men (and women) of fantasy fiction

Okay, time for fantasy guys! They wear a lot of black, it seems. There's probably a lot of significant authors I've missed, but I only wanted to focus on those I'd actually read. 

Incidentally, Robert E. Howard was dapper for a man who wrote books about sweaty barbarians.

Men of Science... Fiction

Wellllllllll it was an eventful couple of weeks since my last post, what with me suddenly nearly dying of something called infective endocarditis. It happens. Out of nowhere, seemingly. Such is life, which I still have, and will damn well make the most of every single day. Still in hospital, gonna be here for about 4 weeks, sooooooo... I may as well draw! Just so glad I still can. <3 Please folk, don't take any things for granted ever, fluke illnesses do happen and do leave you messed up. Life rocks, live it.

I drew some sci-fi authors! And HP Lovecraft because I love his creepy face. I've read stuff by all these guys and they're all awesome, but mainly I love how varied and eccentric authors look. You get the stuffed-suit kind, and then you get Neal Stephenson with his luxuriantly twisty beard. If I were a man, I would have such a beard. Men, consider it!

Anyway, enjoy these dudes. I think I'll do some fantasy ones next.

Tatton Park

Right now, I'm lucky enough to live really near to a place called Tatton Park. It's a thousand-acre deer park, and it's one of those places which makes me feel truly proud to be British. Now, the problem when you start talking about British pride is that people assume you're going to tattoo a St George's Cross on your forehead and start telling people where they can and can't live. That's not what I mean by pride, or Britain for that matter. Pride is celebration and appreciation, and Britain is a beautiful place made of oak trees, long grass and squelchy marshy ground you don't know is there till you step in it.

 

Coffee shop sketches

Hi guys! New blog, new adventures in the world of pen and paper. These days, I'm really working on trying new things and pushing my work into the places I'd like it to be. This seems like a good way to go about it.

So anyway, I spent Saturday morning drawing people in a coffee-shop. I love coffee-shops, they're like a playground for tiny human dramas, and everyone's quite alright with you sitting there quietly soaking them in from behind your sketchpad.

 

 

There's a little train-set which intermittently runs around the top of this cafe, and the little girl waited around with her sister for ten minutes for it to come round. When it finally did, she was looking the other way.

This man is called Georgie. I haven't spoken to him, but I'm sure he's the oldest man I've ever seen. He's always in the same corner of the same coffee shop, but the wonderful thing is how everybody knows him. It seems like literally anyone can walk in and suddenly they'll have known him for ten years and have lived next door and have this and that in common. As someone who's moved house every few years/months, when I see people like this it seems like they're an old oak tree, grown into the space they've lived in, shaped perfectly to fit.

Incidentally, though I do have a job, the term 'starving artist' still applies to me, in that I can never get served in coffee shops. I used to think this was bad service on the part of the café, but since then I've realised it is just me being partially invisible. Naturally, I'm far too British to make a fuss, so instead I have noticed myself developing a sort of of ritual dance by which I try to stare down passing waiters. No, it does not work.

That's it from me, and I'll be posting again soon. This was fun!