An explanation of the mouse images

All eight of the first Millheim Mouse cartoons. On the simplest level my intent is to tell a story with colorfully rendered, very finished pictures. I have a story and characters in my mind, but no writing talent or skill, nor any desire to write the story. I do have very strong visuals in my head and a clear understanding of what happens and why. Do good stories need to come from writers? Maybe; I can’t be sure; you see I’m too prejudiced in favor of picture makers. My motivation though is more than just not wanting to write or answer to a writer’s commands.

I can see the images printed nicely and distributed in a folder rather than a bound book. There could be blank matching sheets for writing longer form stories, some pages with spot drawings on them. It could be a nice little package. Kids could read my story and see the drawings in the order I placed them, but they could also re-order the images, add others from a small collection of alternatives included in the set, or they could eliminate ones not relevant. In the end, they create their story using my pictures. Pre schoolers could even use the opportunity to tell the story to their parents at bed time. First though, instead of releasing the printed images as my story, I’d like to make them available as a digital download so families or K-6 teachers could print them. Hopefully the images could provide a creative teaching and learning moment.

Last spring, as I drank lots of Inglebean coffee and walked around Millheim sketching locations for the illustrations that need a “place”, I imagined that local images might have a strong effect on kids who are familiar with the locations and would recognize the places in the illustrations. We’ll see. I need to finish them first. I’m figuring around 28 images in my story and a few extras to prompt other tales. I regret only posting this explanation now; I’d mentioned it on Facebook, but since that went away, this stuff seems much too arbitrary. Thanks. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, the mouse images are categorized as “A Mouse in Millheim” as is this post. If you click the category, all of the posts should be listed.

The story so far:

Fifth great grandfather

Barely readable tombstone with Phillip Stang's name.

The photo is the face of the tombstone over my fifth great grandfather’s grave. It’s at the cemetery of the Wentz UCC church in Montgomery County, PA. From it I learned that the Stong from whom our family eventually flowered spelled Pillip with two “Ls” and he passed away on November 22, 1813. That’s 200 years ago next week. I celebrate the man, but as a man only; no more nor less responsible for who I am than quite a few other gene contributors.

My mother’s family name, before she married my dad, was Himes. So I carry the genes from the Himeses as well as Stongs. My mother’s parents were Himes and Mack; my father’s- Stong and Ibach. Their parents—my first great grandparents—were a Himes, a Detwiller, a Mack, and a Smith, a Stong, a Sassaman, an Ibach and a Geiger. That’s eight collections of genes intermingling to create me. Tracing back to Phillip Stang I find 128 family names—128 collections of genes—contributing to me. So how important was Phillip, really, in my genetic pool? I can’t be sure. Tradition gives him a place of honor, but there may be a Hartman or Henning or Fry out there who carries more of Phillip’s genes than I do. One of them may even look like him. I look like a Himes.

Traditions usually give us some sort of comfort and I admit to feeling an attachment to this tombstone. The Wentz church where it sits is United Church of Christ and as a child I went to St. Johns UCC. Maybe there are other connections. Did Phillip draw? Could he have enjoyed cooking? Did he give my daughter a desire to be a fireman and an EMT? Or instead, was there a woman—one whose family name wasn’t even recorded—who was alive in the mid Eighteenth Century and who provided the genetic material that gave us all of those passions?

Balloons of Bellefonte for coloring

Sepia toned cartoon of balloons hovering over the Bellefonte townscape.

I caught a post that shared an open call for coloring book drawings. A print magazine had requested the submission of black and white drawings for a coloring book, sized for 81/2” X 11″ reproduction. I figured it would be a way to get a sense of whether or not this balloon idea is really worth pursuing. Just a sense. (I already colored this one… had to try it out.)
Sketch of balloons hovering over the Bellefonte townscape.

The deadline was very soon. I already had a sketch in my book that I’d done from the top of South Allegheny Street and I could picture it working as an interesting vertical composition. When I opened the book and did an honest assessment, I still thought it could work, but there wasn’t enough information in my sketch to let me make a larger, vertical image that was reasonably true to the landscape.

Larger sketch of balloons hovering over the Bellefonte townscape.

We had an almost warm day last week that encouraged me to climb the crazy hill again, stand outside on the edge of the world and do another sketch. This time I broadened my view and tried to capture more of the scene. I wasn’t trying to compose a picture, just record relationships. It was fun. In my minds eye, as I sketched I started rendering in Flash, and it felt right. I took a snap of the new sketch with my system’s built in camera and used it as a template layer to build my finished drawing on. I have no idea if it will get accepted, but if it does I hope someone familiar with Bellefonte recognizes the town.

invention through illustration 2

A mocked-up photo of a clam shell tablet being used.

Just like the 35mm camera digital insert, this is an older image. In July 2007 I posted the photo with a frustrated plea for just such a device. Like an iPod touch, but with a screen twice the size of an iPod, and a screen segmented to fold so it’s protected and easily dropped in a pocket. I used two monitors regularly; the technology for a two screen iPod is there. I added other needs, too: No apps was a requirement. I figured everything I need is on line if you just give me a browser to access it. A smart browser that can get on the darn internet and find the functionality that I need, automatically.

I’ve held an iPad Mini. If the thing would fold in half, I’d buy one. All the little apps would be a pain in the rear, but I’d live with it. At the time I created the photo mock-up, I had a reasonable income and great internet connections. Now, not so much.

invention through illustration 1

An imaginary ad for a 35mm camera insert that takes digital pictures.

The flour bag and short cigarettes aren’t real, they’re illustrative inventions. Posting them reminded me of the fun I’ve always had with this illustration type. It also reminds me that if I had a machine shop, or even a garage, I might not make pictures at all. To illustrate, you have to first understand. If you can’t illustrate something, you just don’t understand it well enough; and I really enjoy the process of understanding. With these personal illustrative inventions, I have to understand a problem, think through the solutions and then problem solve the rendering. It’s all lots of fun.

This image is from November 2008. I pictured it as an ad on the back cover of a pulp magazine or inside the back cover of a comic book. First, though, I pictured the two 35mm cameras in my closet that will probably never get used again. Great optics on each, great mechanics, too. They were fairly expensive in their day and produced professional quality images. How many other folks are storing the same sort of relics? If I had a simple universal insert that I could drop in the back of either camera and collect digital data instead of expose film, both cameras would have a new life.

Possible? Well, there it is&#8230 you tell me. [smile]

short breaks

A photo of Camel Short Breaks, a pack apparently on its side, with half size cigarettes.

After posting my flour bag idea here, I just had to add my Short Breaks. I’m surprised it took me so long to connect the two. The photo is a Photoshop recreation of my original pack- which is buried in boxes and bags somewhere around here. Photoshop is so much easier than digging.

About 20 years ago, I had the idea that shorter cigarettes would let people smoke a whole cigarette quickly while standing in a cold doorway on break. I’d seen people pinching cigarettes out and saving the “butt” to finish later, and I’d seen quite a few long “butts” smashed on the ground by doors in alleyways around town. So I bought two packs of Camels and emptied both packs on my drawing board. Taking my craft knife, I trimmed about a third of each filter off of the cigarettes, and about a third of the tobacco off of the other end hoping to maintain the ratio of filter to tobacco in a shorter cigarette. It took 25 cigarettes to fill a pack stacking from end to end instead of side to side; two rows of eight and a row of nine down the center. I used Letraset letters to add “Short Breaks” to the pack, wrapped the pack securely and put it in a manila envelope.

I did a quick sketch, similar to the flour bag water color sketch I just posted, and wrote a letter describing how easy it would be to transition since the new pack could be packed and shipped the same way, marketed from shelves the same way, and sold from regular machines.

Like King Arthur, Mr. Reynolds didn’t like my idea. In fact, R.J. sent my pack back seemingly unopened, stating firmly that they had their own research, development, and marketing people and didn’t need my ideas.

Ah well.

flour arrangement

An open King Arthur Flour bag.

My flour looks like this. Maybe yours doesn’t. I guess I could buy nice canisters or come up with ready mades that suit my life style, but I don’t use that much wheat flour these days. I flinch at the idea of needing to decant it to use it.

Why should I have to? I usually weigh flour, which makes decanting unnecessary. If I use the scoop and level system, though, which many recipes call for, the bag makes it a bit difficult to access the flour for consistent measuring.

Open King Arthur Flour bag on its side.

A solution seems obvious to me, but didn’t really excite Arthur’s people. What if my flour bag looked like this? The same size bags would still accept the same labels, same quantities of flour, Cartoon rendering of Popin Fresh.same packing and shipping constraints; but putting the opening flaps on the side would almost double the size of the access hole. I’d be able to scoop and scrape to the bottom of the bag!

Maybe I should send a note to Pillsbury? Commercials could show their Dough Boy playing in a bag, giggling like a little kid with a big packing crate.

dated

Contains odor-fighting 'atomic robots' that 'shoot lasers' at your 'stench monsters' and replaces them with fresh, clean, masculine 'scent elves'.

I just saw this on my deodorant. I think I’m going to change my brand.

Contains odor-fighting “atomic robots” that “shoot lasers” at your “stench monsters” and replaces them with fresh, clean, masculine “scent elves”

I love humor in advertising, and an attempt to break with old traditions and grab a new audience has my complete support. Old Spice is an old tradition. My dad used it, and I’m 60. Grabbing new market share with something outrageous, something tasteless, hilarious, or risqué makes excellent sense, and I’d go out of my way to support it. But this? Not just the content, but the use of all caps, and quote marks around the silliness as if it’s a, what? a wink? Seem poorly done. The text is embarrassingly stupid.

I did a search for the phrase on line and it turned up quite a few hits, but rather than pointing out the complete juvenility of the thing, they all think it’s hilarious. One news columnist praised the text in a review. “I want my deodorant to shoot lasers!” someone shouted. To them all, it’s a great campaign. I don’t see it. Does age really do that? Like the high pitched whistles that only kids can hear? It seems so. The humor in this is a few octaves out of my range.

obnoxious lion

Temple:

Navy:

This is old work that I’ve moved here from earlier blogs and from Facebook. When I started working on the talking lion experiment, I had a lot of fun. Making the lion turn its head was a good animation project and compiling all of the clips was a great way to push Photoshop. In the end, though, they just made me laugh. Even now, a couple years later, I giggle. I was ready to do more, putting a new one up for each home game, but they just fell flat. I had a few appreciative comments and then nothing. Nothing verbal, either.

I was bummed.

Reflecting on many of my old blog posts, the story for them is the same. For my own amusement, I may move more here. Most, I’m sure, will no longer have any relevance, but when I find something I still get a kick out of, I’ll move it here, and maaybe include a bit more of an explanation. Like a joke though, if you have to explain it, you’re kidding yourself; it isn’t really any good.