This week's New Yorker cover. A little comment on simple pleasures, and the privileges of wealth.
This sketch was submitted last year. As usual with these things, there are qualities in the first rough attempt that are damn near impossible to replicate. You try and make a couple adjustments, fix a few "mistakes" and
hope you haven't done too much damage.
A larger piece (for me, at least) about 30 x 20", on illustration board . I started drawing somewhere in the middle and then jumped around, adding bit and pieces and tried to keep going and ignore mistakes until I ran out of room to make any more of them.
It's not a real upbeat drawing, but there are a few happy guys, and also some bunnies.
'Kind of hard to see- I'll include some detail shots below.
I'm really conflicted about the Brian Williams scandal. I've always liked the guy I see on TV. I think his sense of humor (and what I've blithely assumed are his political leanings) has somehow mitigated my outrage. It illuminates a media prejudice that I'm a little embarrassed to cop to. Pretty sure I wouldn't feel the same wincing hesitancy and regret about pitching this sketch were it about Bill fucking O'Reilly (not the fairest
comparison, I know, but..).
The New Yorker, on the other hand, betrayed no such hesitancy in summarily shooting this here copter down.