The evolution of an invitation.

It's Beatrice's birthday, and Evil Tom's too. And, as people often do on such occasions they're having a party to celebrate. I didn't on my recent birthday of course, instead choosing the safe option of a dinner with my parents. Even then, only half the invitees showed up.
I've been allowed to create the invitations for their party. I was determined to do them well and so started, like a real illustration student, doing some preperatory drawings. First Beatrice:

And then Napoleon (the party's to be at the Fortune of War, which has something to do with Napoleon)...

And then I drew this, combining all (both) my ideas:

Pretty disastrous though. Why's it all brown? Why are their faces so dirty? Who are those two freaky weirdos anyway?
Then Beatrice phoned me again, and told me to add another name to the list of hosts- I can only assume initial interest has thus far been pretty low- that of Phil, whom I have never met. So then I did this. I don't know why they look like babies though.

And to justify the time the job took, also made it up in different colour ways.


You're invited too, by the way.

Driving

A sketch I did in the car whilst Char and I drove to Brighton. Some people say that having a girlfriend who can drive and has a car whilst I can't and don't makes me less of a man. It doesn't. The fact that I do whatever she tells me to and that I had to keep stopping drawing this because the car movements were giving me a headache do perhaps, but that's irrelevant.

Incidentally, at Ninja I've been in charge of the myspace page for the new Ninja club night, You Don't Know. Cool, aren't I?

J

I, I.

Really not sure about these two, so if you're looking, leave a comment with your opinions.

Dead Tree

Here's a picture I drew last night with my new pen. It's a pentel brush pen, like a self-reloading paintbrush, from Japan. That's the logo of it, I think, or it's the japanse symbol for pen or something.

D, E, F, G & H.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hogtie_bondage


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urolagnia, but you should at least know this one.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Felching


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emetophilia


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dogging_%28sexual_slang%29

C

Better known as a 'Hot Lunch' in the UK, apparently.

Wikipedia.

B

Wikipedia.

A

I've got a project I started thinking about a long time ago, which I'm slowly resurrecting. It's called "the Inappropriate Alphabet", and it's going to be a very adult children's book. It centres around two cliched post-modern bunny rabbits, nameless thusfar, and their sordid aebecedarian antics.
As with many terrible things, it all starts with Alcohol.

Gregory's Sketching Blog

I've moved to London, which is nice. I'm here for five weeks whilst I do an internship at Ninja Tunes (a vaguely-fashionable-but-really-not-really record label.) The office, Ninja HQ, is as glamorous as I dared to dream. It's like the set of Nathan Barley on dress-down Friday. All barefoot scenesters, apple macs and turntables. I know because I was accidentally sent up there when I arrived an embarassing hour-and-a-half early on my first day and I pressed my grubby face against the window and felt the warmth in my cheeks. Since then I've been on my own downstairs in the windowless basement warehouse, stuffing envelopes and asking myself "If I was being paid for this, would it be worth it?"
I'm living with my wonderful girlfriend, Charlotte, which is wonderful. It's just like a luxuriously long date, or a luxuriously short marriage. The only trouble with it really is that I'm still too self-conscious to really relax into taking big long (I mean in chronological length) and loud shits, since I always assume she is in the next room, listening intently. Thus far I've either had to set a quiet alarm for the middle of the night, or else when we're just about to leave the house together, announce that I've left my watch in the bathroom and bound in there only to emerge a quarter of an hour later seven pounds lighter. And still watchless.
Our house is very nice (well, it's her house really), but for all the modern conveniences: an ice-maker in the fridge, drawers that shut themselves, lots of tightly packed neat little staircases like an Escher picture, there is no internet. Hence I'll be updating this less and less.
But if you are looking for a fix of some rambling and some doodling, then I recommend Greg's brand spanking new blog. He's like my older, taller, more talented and better looking brother.