Going through a dusty old portfolio this morning I found an illustration I abandoned halfway through a long time ago. It was for a project, jazz greats. Impossible to finish now since I’m not even the same person that drew this, and I no longer draw like that—If that sounds weird, maybe it is. It was me, all Going through a dusty old portfolio this morning I found an illustration I abandoned halfway through a long time ago. It was for a project, jazz greats. Impossible to finish now since I’m not even the same person that drew this, and I no longer draw like that—If that sounds weird, maybe it is. It was me, all right, but I hardly know the guy. Call me superstitious. That’s Charlie Parker and Diz, and John Coltrane penciled in the back.right, but I hardly know the guy. Call me superstitious. That’s Charlie Parker and Diz, and John Coltrane penciled in the back.

Self-portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog.  In need of an image for my illustration work, I spoofed the time-honored RCA Victor logo, "His Master's Voice" (also known in French as La Voix de Son Maître, in German as Die Stimme seines Herrn, in Italian as La voce del padrone, and in Spanish as La voz de su amo). Always alert to new tricks, this old dog is listening carefully to a Grammophone cylinder phonograph.  The original painting, used by RCA since 1899, was by Francis Barraud. 

 A wild T-shirt design for my high school reunion meant to evoke an era when muscle cars like Camaros and Dodge Chargers roamed the parking lot with eighteen layers of candy apple red lacquer meant to be polished with a chamois cloth. An homage, with apologies to Ed "Big Daddy" Roth and Washington Irving for his use of Rip van Winkle, who overslept half a century
and nearly missed the party.