P R O J E C T S

B R Y N N . & . R A Y
My partner Brynn has a black cat named Ray. Ray Finkle actually. Anyhow, her relationship with him is ...fascinating. I decided to draw up some of the scenarios that take place at Brynn's apartment with Ray. You can see it on BrynnRay, a tumblr site.


O L D I E . B U T . A . G O O D I E
When the Metro Gold Line opened extending transit into Pasadena from Downtown, I was inspired to do a shoot of people riding on the train to use in print ads for a class I was taking at Art Center. I started by photographing some of my 'model' girlfriends. But the results weren't working out. My teacher, Roland Young, asked me who's clothing I was using to dress the models. I told him that the couture gowns belonged to my grandmother. Then he told me to shoot my grandmother. So I did. 


G O O D   F O R M 
Although I don't have a need for this one anymore, there have been times in my life when I've wished for a tool in awkward social situations. I'm thinking of some other "forms" to sterilize encounters like, asking a close friend to pay you back for something or introducing your new significant other to your parents for the first time.



G I F T W R A P
Eric and I are going to make gift-wrap before the holidays. We did it last Christmas--using a roller to put paint over a quickie stencil we drew and cut out together. We loved the way it turned out so much that we decided to be entrepreneurial about it this year. So I'm getting a head start. Our hope is to get a few of our gifted friends to get in on the action, and we'll put the silk screened rolls up for sale on Etsy or something. Stay tuned.



C A R   W A S H ,   H O L D    T H E    W A T E R.
Ye olde towne Pasadena offers every convenience for on-the-go shoppers. Now, you can buzz through Kate Spade, get a pinkberry, and fill the trunk of your newly clean car with your loot. Parking structures around town are starting to offer car washing services. And to top that, they're eco-friendly because they don't use water. Don't ask me to vet the chemicals they do use to suds-up your sedan, but in what should be a water conscious city, this is a convenient way to waste less water.


T H E  D E V I L  I N  A N  A N G E L ' S  A P R O N

I've been working a cookbook for almost a year. I've loved to cook for as long as I can remember, but the real reason I wanted to put this book together was because I wanted to write a cookbook that was personal--because cooking is personal. I've written, designed, and illustrated it, and it features some family recipes, my own creations, and some modifications on household classics.  It's in its final editing stage, but I'm excited to make them available very soon. Here's a sneak peak.

















































































U N F O R T U N A T E  C R E A T U R E S

One day my boss and I were trading stories and got off on a tangent about pets who'd met comic demises. And we discovered lots of our friends had similar stories, so we started writing them down. Then I started drawing.



















 

The first in a series of tragic but (hopefully)  funny true stories about animals.
 
"Grace was an English bulldog and featured her breed's  characteristic broad shoulders, pear shaped body and short, compact legs. Bred to keep bulls in line, fearless and tenacious,  Grace was up for most any challenge. Except for swimming. A fact Tim learned when he came home one Saturday afternoon  and found her at the bottom of the swimming pool."  
PG 






























R I C H A R D . T H E . C A T F I S H
It was Grandpa Elmer's birthday. Everyone piled into pickup trucks to go fishing on the San Joaquin river. The numerous grandkids were outfitted with homemade fishing poles cut from the bamboo shoots in their grandparent’s garden. After a long day on the water, Eric, his sister and their parents packed up their Chevy and loaded a five gallon bucket full of 20 live catfish into the bed. Eric was five years old. When they got home, his dad found an old cement shop sink and propped it up on some cinder blocks to make a tank for the fish. 
Every day Eric would visit the fish, climbing up on the blocks and reaching his hand into the cold water. He could feel them swimming, slippery and wet against his fingers. They were his pets, and he loved them. But as the summer baked by, the fish started disappearing. Every few days there would be one less of them in the makeshift tank. Eric didn't notice right away, as he was only five and could barely see into the tank to try counting them. Soon he wondered, where were the fish going? Eric never imagined that every few nights, when the mood struck him, his father would pick out a fat one and grill it for the family's dinner. This continued until there was only one fish left in the tank. Rather than having to explain where all the fish had gone, Eric's dad let the last one live. Eric named him Richard. Eric was allowed to feed him and help his father clean the tank. Sometimes his Dad would scoop Richard up in an abalone shell and bring him into the kitchen to rinse him in the sink. Eric never missed this, and watched Richard's whiskers move as his dad rubbed the gunk off his scales under the running water. Even with this special attention, it was only a matter of months before Richard died. And to send him off properly, Eric's dad dug a hole in the yard and called the family outside. Eric's mother and sister, and their two dogs, Princess and Buddy gathered round the hole, but Eric stood the closest. Holding Richard by the tail, his father said, "Richard was a good fish." Then, after a short prayer, he dropped Richard into the hole. With Eric's help, they shoveled the dirt over Richard and drained the makeshift tank.