Nostalgia Magazines.

(Please click to enlarge.)

I've been drawing, quite literally, from nostalgia magazines lately.

P.S. The blog went in for its annual tune-up and came out with a new exterior, namely, a new header! Sadly, still not legitimate enough.

Life After.

(Please click to enlarge.)

Now that I have taken the California Bar Examination, I have some time to ink and hand-colour all the sketches I drew during my Bar studies. With several months until I receive my results, I will put to paper some of the ideas I've had brewing under my scalp. Please stay tuned.

Oh, and yes, I think this means I have returned.

R.I.P., Gordon Waller

(from left) Peter Asher and Gordon Waller.

R.I.P., Gordon Waller. He was the amazing voice behind Everly-Brothers-British-Invasion wannabes "Peter & Gordon." If you listen to "Hot Cold & Custard," their slightly psychedelic final album together from 1968, you'll find that Waller had this disarmingly deep voice. It sounded a lot like a blanket would feel. Good. Waller died of a heart attack on the morning of the 17th. He was just 64.

Peter Asher & Gordon Waller shot to fame around the world in the mid-60's, during what was known as the British Invasion, when British rock n' roll and pop acts were burning up the pop music scene. Most people know the Beatles, Stones, and even the Dave Clark 5, The Hollies, and Gerry & the Pacemakers. Also prominent were the Zombies, Wayne Fontana, and Peter & Gordon. The duo met in school--Asher was just growing up from his child star status. (His younger sister, actress Jane, famously dated Paul McCartney during the heady days of the Beatles.)

Their songs had a similar formula. Asher harmonised Gordon, who sang lead. Both men played acoustic guitar in a deliberate nod to their idols, the Everly Brothers. In fact, they covered a number of Everly and r&b tunes, albeit not terribly well. Their best work came from tunes penned by Lennon and McCartney, some castoffs. Some, written by McCartney under the nom de plume "Bernard Webb," were meant for the duo. They are better known for hits such as the following:




Peter & Gordon went their separate ways in the late '60s. Asher went off to head A&R at Capital Records, sculpting the careers of James Taylor and Linda Ronstadt. Waller tried to craft a solo career but without much success. In 2005, the duo reunited for a benefit concert for the late Mike Smith of the Dave Clark 5, who had suffered a spinal injury and needed funds for medical care. From there, they began touring around the world, their final concert marking the 40th anniversary of their last performance in the '60s in August of 2008.

Waller is survived by his new wife, whom he married in 2008, his first wife, their two grown daughters, his two sisters, and, of course, his best friend for 50 years, Peter Asher.

Here is a fun song off "Hot Cold & Custard," their last, and, in my opinion, their greatest album.

01 I Feel Like Going Out.mp3

P.S. I feel somewhat guilty, because I made fun of their cover of Lucille in one of 's entries on the evening of the 16th, when Waller went into cardiac arrest. :(

A Quiet Comeback with a Fitting Tribute:

Hello friends,

I have neglected the hallowed halls of Akratic Behavior to follow some more serious pursuits, namely studying for the California Bar Examination. (I had been working exclusively out of Livejournal.com but feel it is time to return to Blogger as my primary medium, while keeping the LJ account updated for friends who prefer that format.)

Today's passings have given me pause and motivated me to make some mental notes, at least for the sake of documentation.

Growing up in an immigrant family, I was blessed with parents well-versed in Western pop culture, thereby making the assimilation experience somewhat less painful. My father has always been a fan of the King of Pop. Long ago, he convinced me that Michael Jackson was THE best entertainer of all time, a person who could change your molecular composition by the mere act of taking the stage and striking his famous pose. Father knows best. Father was right.

Later, as Michael Jackson was plagued with financial problems, personal struggles, and allegations of child abuse, I couldn't understand how his fans could stand by and support him like they did. I'm not sure I ever will, but I can't understand those who villified or mocked him either. Indeed, he was atypical, to put it very, very lightly, but public opinion always throws the first stone. He was never a monster to me, not even a weirdo--just incredibly damaged. If people thought about his torrential childhood with a bit of empathy, they could perhaps begin to understand the demons that dogged him to his very last day.

If nothing else, I hope Jackson's death becomes a lesson of love and understanding.

Of course, rest in peace, Ed McMahon and Farrah Fawcett. Ed taught me English when I first came to America with his "Star Search," and Farrah will forever remind me of beautiful-hair-Breck, that one-time popular shampoo... that, and a fight for patient confidentiality legislation.

Perhaps, in a heaven that many believe in, Farrah Fawcett is co-starring in an action flick with David Carradine, and Ed McMahon is presenting Michael Jackson's comeback tour. ::sigh::

1968 (Variations on a Theme)

I notice two things from these old and new variations on the same theme:

1) My style is improving.
2) My markers are drying out.

I really like using low-quality fine-line markers, because they're cheap enough for me to use frequently and roughly. The only setback was how quickly they'd dry up. Now that I am starting to like the look and feel of drying markers, they're quickly becoming my favourite medium.

Oh boy, this entry is pretty dry too.

Jesus!

I narrowly avoided the crisis of cliché by giving him* a halo and calling him Jesus (rather than your run-of-the-mill, 1970's-emulating east coast hipster).

What would a modern incarnation of Jesus be like? Would he prefer MySpace over Facebook because the former is the social networking service of lower income youth? Would he only buy clothes and shoes secondhand? Would he be a vegan? Would he have dinner with rich Republicans? Better yet, would rich Republicans have dinner with HIM?! If not loaves and fish, would he feed thousands of São Paulo poor with miraculously multiplied hamburgers from McDonald's?

These are the things I think about when worrying about the Bar exam (it's coming) and listening to '80s funk pop (it's great).

* Are people offended by my failure to capitalise pronouns that refer the Almighty? Well, at least now you know my decision not to reverence the Lord grammatically was a deliberate one.

Back from Peru!

After a week of hiking, eating, nuptials attending, and not sleeping, I am back from Peru in an unnaturally good mood. Hopefully, I'll be cartooning some of my travels before school starts on Monday. It's great to be back! I have missed you all, and I don't even know who some of you are.

Working Backwards.

As of Saturday, I have completed the penultimate semester of my law school career. That's all very exciting for sure, but the closing of the law school chapter only means the opening of the Bar exam and legal career chapters, which are equally, if not more, frightening. I have several goals this winter break, including but not limited to going abroad to attend impending nuptials (not mine), start revising for the Bar exam, reading non-legal books, and improving my drawing.

This post's drawings are no exception. Instead of the usual pencil-ink-waiting-for-ink-to-dry-then-smearing-ink-while-colouring order of things, I decided put the colour in first, then ink second. It's like what people do with water-colours, but I went completely rogue and ditched the sketching. (I know I'm hopelessly trying to add spice to the blog equivalent of a nut loaf, but just work with me here, please.) In other words, I took the concept of colouring inside the lines and turned it upside-down and shook the loose change out by eliminating the lines altogether. Instead, I felt blindly for boundaries and hoped to God that I spaced everything logically. All in all, a great exercise in assessing the negative space in my drawings.

Below, I've included a handful of the earlier rejects.


Starting from the left, you can see the improvement with each new version.

Girl & Forty & Free Lunch.

This is nowhere near done, but I'm too excited about it to wait. You see, I used to go through a phase in university where nearly everything I drew had a mohawk on it or a piercing through it. Those were good times, scrambling for credibility by listening to music and advocating ideas I didn't care for. Of course, I would realise, years later, that worrying about what people think is, for lack of a better word, stupid.

Now, as I grow more and more cynical* about this country and who controls my existence within it, I welcome my own return to absolute indifference. Even subverting expectations seems too contrived.

* The commercialisation of every major counter-cultural revolution since Elvis Presley has always made me wary of what "punk" really means. 30 years ago, the arrangement depicted above served as a uniform way to frustrate one's parents or government. Today, it is not much more than a sad cliché heckling the drones that come in and out of a Midwestern strip mall, if not a mall-frequenting drone itself. Nothing I've said just now hasn't been said before, of course. Still, I need to remind myself the futility of living in the land of the "free," the same land that came up with the phrase, "There's no such thing as a free lunch."

Unfinished.

Law school means never having to say you're finished (with anything else). He needs an arm and a bicycle, and I intend to give these to him after final examinations.

Congratulations to those friends who have passed the Bar. I hope to join your ranks in a year's time.

Big Step.

Spiced apple cider, pumpkin pie, and big coats... Autumn, she's back.

That Girl and Her Printer, Markers.

After extensive analysis, I decided that I could no longer afford my all-in-one's cartridges, so out it went and my top-notch photo scanner with it. I bought a new all-in-one about a month ago, and, as you can see, I'm still trying to figure out that colour scanning.

My marker use is coming back, and I'm happy about it. Markers really bring out the deep colours of the late 60s.

Today is a muggy, foggy day, but I made a sensible brunch, which always sets a positive tone for the rest of the day.

When Nature Calls, Let It Go to Voicemail.

I know I promised text with every entry, but I give up. After being told that the accompanying commentary wasn't very funny, I've gotten somewhat self-conscious about writing anything more than the essentials.

Who: Law Boy.
What: Poster child for the groin of professional schools.
Where: An expansive layer of light green.
How: I drew it with a pencil. I inked it with a pen. I clicked at it on Photoshop.
Why: Our student organisation bulletin board needed redecorating.*

* If you go to my school, it's there in coloured pencil.

"Yellow Fever Avenger" Debut!

Please say "hi" to my new secret alter-ego, the Yellow Fever Avenger (YFA). I dreamed up this concept last night and have been itching to put it to paper all day. I chose to use myself as the model since YFA's adventures are based on real-life experiences of mine.

This is the prototype; changes will most likely come later. The hair wasn't supposed to be so black, for one thing. I'll post some other colour schemes on Flickr at some point. Till then, I would love some feedback. Love it? Hate it? Let me know, please!

I LOVE Postscripts.

Saturday was the 26th anniversary of my parents' marriage. We have a family tradition of drawing cards for each other, but it seems like I'm the only person who keeps this tradition alive anymore, albeit poorly. If you see this card and you're thinking, geez, this is the kind of crap that could only be appreciated by someone's parents, then you are completely correct. They absolutely loved it. I even drew clothes they actually wear.

Sunday was the 24th anniversary of my birth.* Yes, friends, I share a birthday with Carlos Santana, Natalie Wood, American Idol runner-up Elliot Yamin, and my first U.S. neighbour (I arrived in 1988). My birth also marks the death of Bruce Lee and the moon landing. I don't normally celebrate my birthday, because everything I do ends up really cheesy.** So, for a change, I went to San Francisco ZineFest in Golden Gate Park. Mostly, I wanted to say "hi" to new friends I had met from Renegade the week previous, but I ended up making a few rounds and got pretty inspired. Of course, with that inspiration came the usual sinking feeling of inferiority that I get whenever I go to these hip things. I have hips, but that's as close to "hip" as I get. No irony, never. Without going into too much detail (mostly because I don't remember it), I somehow wound up on the back of a motorcycle, clinging to dear life (as well as the owner of said motorcycle, who I didn't really know at all) as I was shuttled to a family-hosted dinner party. Normally, I would never have the moxy to hop (more like stumble) onto someone's motorcycle, which I'd never done before, but something convinced me to do it. I believe that something was beer.

* Since my birthday comes the day after my parents' wedding anniversary, we used to have a joke in the family about how my parents barely made it to the altar in time. In fact, I was born two years later, and this joke is already not in line with the times. "Born out of wedlock" seems strange and arcane now, since it happens so often. "Haven't you heard of contraception?" I believe that is a line from one of the first ska bands.

** Maybe I will one day embrace the cheese that I am and just full-on celebrate my birthday. I'm tired of making like a Jehovah's Witness without the credit... or the marginalisation.

Renegade San Francisco!

Now's your chance to finally meet the mind behind the magic! That's right, for one time only (okay, two times), your girl Wontons will be making a rare appearance at the Renegade Craft Fair, which is making its San Francisco stop on July 12th-13th. I have decided, hardly against my will, to break away from the painful routine of school-work-school-work-and-other-related-torture to commune with all of YOU!

If you're wondering what wares I will be hawking at this craft store, you will be disappointed to learn that I will not be there to hawk anything of my own. On the other hand, I will be kindly requesting that you purchase the handiwork of my friend David, a giant (or monster) among men in the indie t-shirt business. In other words, he rocks! Come buy his shirts, and I'll give you a hug for free!*

* Hugs will be given on a first come, first serve basis. Yvonne-Marie Wontons reserves the right to refuse service to anyone. All received and non-received hugs bearing the Akratic Behavior brand are the sole property of Yvonne-Marie Wontons. All rights reserved. Hugs may contain DRM. Did you hear that, Canadian government? I copyrighted my own hugs.

Seeing Someone Again.

I recently discovered that some guy I sat in registry with in high school now draws comics for Giant Robot. I sat for 15 minutes in the same room with this guy, five days a week, from 1998-2002. All that time, he was building his cult, cartoonist trade. All that time, I was trying to talk with people who already had friends while wondering why I was such a loser.

These days, it's no different. He's a hip cartoonist, getting interviewed by magazines specific to his profession, while I sit in front of my computer, trying to learn the law, picking zits. He talks about the great comics he grew up reading, I talk about the great nature shows I grew up watching. Different, yet the same.

He and I never spoke, but my high school, despite its diversity, was definitely self-segregated. If we ever met, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't know me, even though we were in the same room for four years. In fact, a lot of old classmates have sprung up in my neighbourhood, relegated to living with their parents whilst looking for a living after college. I see them on the trolley, but they don't recognise me. Playing the voyeur will always be fun. Artists are always voyeurs. Sometimes, artists are voyeurs who pick zits.

Headaches, Lists.

I haven't done very much in terms of creating, thanks to the sheer nastiness of my work-then-school daily grind. To top it all off, I've had this headache since Sunday. I don't get headaches often, but when I do, they always feel like a burly man with big hands has decided to wrap his thick fingers around my skull. I can almost smell his underarms. Delicious... Anyway, here's a favourite from an old sketchbook, circa 2006, when the popularity of corrective lens was about to be as big as its new-found size. Frankly, I've been sold. I don't think I'll ever draw another person in any eyeglasses smaller than a quarter the size of the face, except if I'm replicating some period fashion, say, Victorian.

I wrote a quick note to myself on a Post-It during my break today at work, as a reminder of things I want to draw. Here's a sneak-peek of my little list in its entirety:

• crying into phone


• dancing


• cartoon girl - goth or punk


• anything w/ special font backdrop


• fedora + man squatting/leaning*


• improve drawing seniors


• crazy person denying being hipster

I'm about as confused about this lst as you are, and I wrote it. At least I think I did.

* A young man I spied on the street while riding the bus inspired this image.

Trial & Error.

There is no such thing as a free lunch, and there is certainly no such thing as getting it right the first time. Juxtaposing the original, the reject, and the final product is a humble nod to Warhol by a short-necked girl with a mushroom haircut.

My stationery collection photo shoot is definitely still in the works. I'm still looking for the right lighting and backdrop. I'm also waiting for Valentino to return my call.

Editor's Note: Those red soles can only mean one thing--Christian Louboutin.

No Farm Subsidies, Just Love.

My exams were over last week, but I didn't really start drawing until yesterday. Yeah, I don't have a legitimate excuse like hard partying or attending Cannes while pregnant with twins. I was just too busy spending the last week literally wallowing in my new-found freedom. Unfortunately, such freedom is short-lived. I return to class in a week, and my summer internship starts a week after that. There's also waiting for grades. It's a lot like waiting for your first child to be born. The birth could be good or bad, but you'll have to live with whatever you get. In fact, that's exactly what waiting for grades is like. I'll let you fill in the blanks for yourself.

Musings on exam results and childbirth aside, I wanted to celebrate my non-existent summer the right way--yes, I'm going to keep drawing until the envy goes away and the tears don't sting as much. That's good news for you, what with all the new updates in your future, but it's even better news for me. Maybe I'll finally break out of my about-face, two-dimensional comfort zone. It's not even an exciting comfort zone like fried chicken or really bad television. If you haven't noticed (but I'm sure you have), all my drawings look ready to be clipped and made into paper dolls. BORING, unless you're a wealthy child in Victorian England. Today's drawing is a step in that direction. It's really a hasty study of angles, not eroticised body parts, which was your first guess. I also kill two birds with one stone by giving it a summer theme. You can find a full description on Flickr (just click the picture for an enlargement; you know the drill). I highly suggest enlargement as I'm quite proud of the peony shoulder art.