Four Weddings and a Robbery

This illustration was originally published in Brides Magazine and "borrowed" by Steve Paster of Alpine Creative Group for his own use in promoting his custom invitation printing business. I took him to court and won but he had creatively hidden his assets years before he stole from me. I did not collect a cent. Mr. Paster continues to cater to a rather dubious clientele which can be looked upon as his just desserts.
Illustrators, photographers, calligraphers, beware of this unscrupulous thief. I had never heard of this man until my work appeared on his promotional stationary.
Sometimes you just lose despite being right. I am not the first nor will I be the last.
In celebration of unions planned with joy, honesty, and in honor of my goddaughter Olivia's recent marriage, I would like to post some family wedding photos.
The first image is of my Uncle John and Aunt Evelyn who always traveled in style with their alligator skin portable bar containing bourbon and gin.
The second photo is of my Aunt Kaki Burke who enjoyed a discrete Whiskey Sour out of range of the lens.
The last photo is of my mom with my dapper dad sporting a white dinner jacket in the background. No illusions, they loved and drank and I was born.

Oily Hair?

Sinéad O'Connor shaved her head before ripping up a photo of the Pope on Saturday Night Live. Mia Farrow suddenly cut off her locks after a brief marriage to Frank Sinatra, I am surprised she did not cut off her own head after Woody Allen.

The War Production Board asked Veronica Lake to sacrifice her signature "peek-a-boo" style during WWII to discourage factory women from emulating her and hence, run the risk of getting their hair caught in machinary.
The world is now faced with the lies of BP which is spilling oil into our oceans at a rate 10 times higher than they first claimed.
The truth has washed ashore killing marshlands along the Gulf Coast which is only the beginning of an environmental catastrophe.
What can we do? Apparently hair absorbs oil and can be washed and reused to absorb more, a far better solution to the toxic and untested chemicals BP has been pumping on to their mess hoping that we will not notice the sludge and gasping wildlife.
Cut your hair and save the clippings, go to Matter of Trust for details.
Thousands of boxes of hair, fur, fleece, feathers and nylons are coming in now by drop-offs from every city in North America and from donors in the UK, France, Spain, Germany, Mexico, Australia, New Zealand, Japan, China and Brazil... it's a start.
I'll leave you with this mournful video by a much maligned and misunderstood woman who gave a voice to the abused, whether it be altar boys, the planet or the brokenhearted. The growth of untamed hair revolutionized the sixties, it's time to cut it off in protest of the bald faced lies

Cannes is nice but Nice is better

I have been to Cannes but never during the Festival de Cannes for which these illustrations were drawn.
In fact, the photo I use on my sidebar was taken in Nice with Cannes in the background, or maybe it was taken in Cannes with the Old Town in the background, I am not sure, I just know I was content at that moment.
I was supposed to be staying in Monaco as a guest of friends of a friend but the maid had just run off with their jewelry and it became awkward. I know that story sounds fabricated, too Cary Grant and Grace Kelly but it is the truth and when you're there you accept this news as if it is an everyday occurrence.
So I stayed in pristine Cannes for a few days but quickly discovered Nice. I checked into a once elegant but now rather shoddy hotel with a balcony and breathtaking view of the Côte d'Azur.
My room was adorned with black wallpaper that featured once brightly colored but now faded tropical fish swimming around the walls. It reminded me of Oscar Wilde's supposed last words "Either the wallpaper goes or I do".
The concierge would ask me every evening as I exited for dinner if he could arrange some "company" for me, I always declined but was disarmed by how nonchalantly he approached the topic, as if perhaps I required extra towels or a wake up call.
Indeed one did not require a concierge for company, the women were available up and down the Avenue des Anglaise, well dressed, healthy and often carrying a teacup poodle in their arms which is what I based one of these illustrations on. I had the finest bouillabaisse of my life in Nice and think back fondly on those days.
These illustrations appeared in Film Comment Magazine, the inclusion of the British flag had to do with the fact that English films swept the awards that year.

The Lap of Luxury

"I was drunk last night dear mother
I was drunk the night before
But if you'll forgive me mother
I'll never get drunk anymore."

That's me sitting on me bonny Scottish mum's lap. I was born a wee lad with an enormous gift of the gab inherited from my Irish father. While I no longer sit on her lap I do call her several times a week but she occasionally has to hang up on me, exhausted and exasperated from my incessant rambling, still, I know she loves me.
Happy Mother's Day dear mother, forgive me, where's the scotch?