some illustration and graphic design…executed for the ’save the date’ cards for my own impending nuptials…

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another t-shirt design…

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The moon seemed full enough to burst, deliciously bloated like the belly of a chortling old man. Distant suns were burning like votive candles hung from rusted eye-hooks, infinitely high; while down below, the breeze rustled hair-thin grass blades, noiselessly to all but the smallest of eardrums, to whom the hum in the wind seemed gentle, like tiny violin strings plucked by tiny fairy fingertips. There was a flavor to the air that savored of magic, and since it seemed so improbable, Quinn recognized it for what it was: a fantasy full of whimsy flickering subtly as she slept.

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The bird upon her windowsill looked that way now. His neck was bent just the same, and his body looked equally ruined; and the melancholy of his death seemed all the more tragic when Quinn imagined him animated. How beautiful he must have been in flight with the starlight gleaming on his feathers, which were deep shades of indigo and violet, and not at all black, as they had seemed at first. She settled at once to bury him in the root cellar, as she would any other dear friend.

inspired by a hooker (my assumption) that I saw on 14th street…she had a yellow afro and banana-yellow heels

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On her first day of school the other toddlers had teased her mercilessly because her eyes were golden and feline, and her hair was white like a snowy fleece, and it cascaded in intricate coils and spirals that seemed to hang suspended from their roots like satellites of curls straining to escape gravity’s pull. Those bit-sized brutes told her that her eyes were strange, and her hair was strange, and her name was strange. She was strange.

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