Daily Sketch -- Back to the Creeper

Or maybe, "Back of the Creeper" would be a better title. Another of my Creeper sketches. There is just something about that unusual Ditko costume that keeps drawing me in. This might have been done around 2000 or so.

Daily Sketch -- Canyon Living

Rough sketch for what a much larger piece I did as a possible portfolio page for Mayhem #3. This is called "Canyon Living" and it is an alien world where humans can only live in the depths of canyons and have built a city into the canyon walls. You can see on the right that I added a scale to use when moving this over to a larger art board.

Daily Sketch -- The Creeper

I have found literally dozens of Creeper sketches in my old sketchbooks. I always loved the character and wished something more had been done with this Steve Ditko creation over the years. Most of my Creeper sketches are like this, half-assed and unfinished. This looks to be from around 2002.

The Box

It slid slowly down the street, moving in fits and starts along the concrete curb, pushed by the rising waters of a late summer rain. It was unsightly, a white and brown blob skittering past the rows of once-fine houses. Its original shape was undiscernible, this soggy mass of fibrous material. Next week a street sweeper would gather up its dried carcass and it would take its final journey, to the city dump where it would be covered by the flotsam of modern society, compacted along with the other junk of the world back into the soil where it would decompose and never be seen again.

But it wasn’t always a misshapen mass of fibers floating in the gutter. It once had a form, it once had a purpose. It once was new and pristine, with sharp edges, tight corners and neat creases.  It was born in a Georgia-Pacific paper mill in Washington State, created out of recycled paper, corrugated pieces glued to flat surfaces, trimmed, creased, scored, cut, printed and packaged. Sold in a plastic-wrapped package of ten at a Staples office supply in Southern California to the recently widowed Ruth Carlyle.

It was kept flat, wrapped in its plastic packaging for two weeks in the Carlyle garage till Karen Sorenson, Ruth’s eldest, had come to help pack up the belongings of the man whose death had left a hole in her heart. The box was pushed in at the sides to form a rectangle, then flaps were folded this way and that to form the sturdy bottom and double-thick ends. It was a perfect empty box.

The first things it held were three teardrops, shed by Karen as she had attempted to pack up her father’s holiday ties. Instead she had broken down in a blubbering mass as she recalled the years of Christmas mornings, St. Patrick’s Days and Fourth of Julys that were the fabric of her childhood.  The ties were imbued with the odor of her father’s cologne, and when the scent had hit her senses, Karen was bathed in the memories of being held in her father’s strong arms, snuggled into the nape of his neck.

Eventually, the holiday ties made their way into the box, followed by nine leather belts and three cedar shoetrees. All were unharmed by Karen’s dried tears.  

How could something that held the precious memories of a woman’s childhood become just another fragment of societies’ debris? Time. The box had been packed into the back of Karen’s SUV and taken to the nearby Goodwill, emptied of its cargo and thrown into a dumpster, where it sat for two days till a March wind had caught the box and blown it across the parking lot and out into an empty field, where time took its toll. It took six years for the box to make its way across the field to the street beyond.

Then the August skies had opened up and the box’s final journey had begun. 

Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.

Daily Sketch -- Waiting in the Airport

This one is dated so I know it was 2002. I sort of remember drawing this while sitting in an airport waiting room. It is one of those where you don't want it to be too obvious that you are drawing a specific person, so I tried to look nonchalant at I would look up and scan my surroundings then zero in on this woman to actually let the pencil touch the paper.

Sahara

The desert stretched out before Carsten, a uniform panorama of wind-swept dunes. He had no idea where he was. He figured this was the Sahara, maybe still in Morocco, maybe in Algeria. Who the hell could tell? You’ve seen one vast sandy wasteland, you’ve seen them all.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing to beat yourself over the head with. When Poplovsky first came to Carsten with talk of transporting a small Holbein portrait to a buyer in Marrakesh, it sounded like an exotic, fun adventure. “You’ll have a blast,” Poplovsky has promised; “Africa is wonderful this time of year.  I would go, but so busy right now. I’ll pay you. No, not hazard pay, it is a straight exchange. You give him painting, he gives you money. No big deal. Really.”  Yeah, what could possibly go wrong with this?

Carsten was to meet the buyer at his hotel in Medina, the old fortified section of the city, at 6:30 PM on Thursday, but Carsten never even made it to his own hotel on Wednesday. His cab from Ménara International Airport took him to an alley where he was pulled from the vehicle at gun point. That was the last thing he could remember before waking up here. The tender spot on the back of his head and the constant throbbing filled in a portion of the blanks in his memory.

Looking at the rising sun he guessed it was Thursday morning. Sun rising in the east, no desert this big to the west of Marrakesh, Carsten turned and started walking west. Not that it would matter. He had no water, he had no shelter, and he had no chance of survival.

Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.

Dail Sketch -- Man With No Attitude

This was maybe 15 years ago at a life drawing class at PCC. While waiting for the class to start I did this quick sketch of the model, Dave, doing the same.

Daily Sketch -- Motorcycle

This is a sketch I did while working on illustrating a story by my good friend Alex Ness. Someday I have to finish that final page.

Snapped!

Do you remember the exact moment when you decided Connie did not deserve to live? Sure, it was only milliseconds ago. One moment she is just another bitch busting your balls, making you feel small and foolish and insignificant. The next she has crossed some line you didn’t even know was there. One moment a pain in the ass, the next, dead meat. Don’t you think it is amazing how fluid and adaptive we humans are? One moment you feel depressed and put upon and marginalized and small. Then, like flipping a switch on the wall: let there be light! Let there be fulfillment and a sense of satisfaction. Let all that other shit just fall away. You are going to make the bitch pay. Ah, you rejoice, inside, of course, quietly, for she is looking at you and wondering what you are thinking, wondering the meaning of that strange little smile that has suddenly worked its way across your face.

Let her wonder, you think. Let her have doubts. Soon she will have none. No doubts, no thoughts, no nothing. Soon she will be nothing. Hell, she already is in your eyes. How could you have ever thought you loved her? She is a worthless little twat. She is almost undeserving of even your concern, but no, you can’t let her get away with belittling you. She brought you to this place and you have to make her pay for doing so.

You ponder your next move; how will you do it? You don’t own a gun, and a knife, though somehow seeming to hold a great deal of satisfaction, her ugly red blood spilling from her worthless body, you really don’t want all the mess that a knife entails. But you do want it personal. You do want to look in her eyes as the life seeps out of them. And then you know, you want to feel her struggle under you as your hands slide around her neck, as she realizes she has fucked with the wrong guy. Ah, now there will be some satisfaction for you, there will be exactly what you need to regain your manhood.
  
So you lunge at her, forcing her to the carpet, landing on top of her. She wonders if you are playing with her, but when your hands meet around her scrawny little neck, she knows. Oh god, you could almost cum from the look in her eyes as she realizes you are not playing around. She tries to struggle, but you keep up the pressure on her juggler. She is thrashing about, but she can’t get away can she? No, she is caught in a trap of her own making. She toyed with your emotions until you just snapped!

And now she knows it. You can see it in her eyes. She stops struggling, she bows to your superiority. She was wrong the way she treated you. You win, she loses. She understands the mistakes she has made. And like that, it is gone. The madness. Your fingers lose their resolve. You stand up as she gasps for breath. You stand up and you walk out the door and you never see her again.

Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.

Daily Sketch -- Cabo

This was done in 2007, a sketch of some of the rocks at Cabo San Lucus.

Daily Sketch -- Buns

This one is actually fairly recent. I had a commission to do a book cover a few years ago featuring a young, sexy female serial killer. I downloaded a ton of images for it. This one did not end up being of use, but I always thought it was an incredibly cute butt.

Bad Apple

Oak Glen had become more of a Southern California tourist attraction than an agricultural community, so they did their best to hide their secrets. During the late summer and fall people came in droves to visit Oak Glen and get a case or two of apples or a few gallons of fresh-squeezed cider. Not many knew that the small community ran out of apples by early August and that most of what people bought were from Washington State. Would it matter to most? Probably not. With places like Oak Glen it was the journey not the destination that counted. What mattered were the orchards, the large apple presses creating buckets of cider, the hay wagon rides, the petting zoos, the strudel and pandowdy, and the getting out of the city and into a higher elevation where the smog was not so prevalent. The apples and the cider may have been the destination, but they were not the reason people came.

But still, why press your luck? So the trucks from Washington only pulled into town between 4:00 and 6:00 in the mornings, in and out so fast that no one who wasn’t already wise would get so. Now if out of state apples was the only secret the townspeople hid behind their perpetual smiles and twinkling eyes, things would not have been so bad in Oak Glen. But Oak Glen was not as tired and sleepy as it looked.

Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.

Daily Sketch -- Airplane Hoodie

This would have been 2008. I was flying back to Boca Raton every three weeks for two-week stints at Campus Management Corp. to work on their CampusVue software. From the seat I can tell this was on JetBlue.

Daily Sketch -- Faces

I don't know. Faces, but for what or from what I have no idea. Something makes me think I was going to do a Tarzan picture, maybe for the 90th anniversary of the character in 2002, but this is only a guess.

Whiskey

Kyle Talbot sauntered up to the bar and, in his grittiest, mouth-full-of-range-dust voice, addressed the bartender. “Whiskey” was all he said.

A bottle appeared and a shot was poured and Kyle downed it in one masculine, leading man type gulp.

“Cut!” yelled the director, Scott Winningham.

Kyle was upset. There was no burn to the “whiskey,” it being just colored water after all. Kyle needed it to be the real thing today. His head was pounding from last night’s binge and he could certainly use a little hair of the dog.

“Kyle, could you at least look like you get some relief from the shot?”

“Maybe if my motivation were clearer to me, Scott. You’re not much of a director.” Kyle grinned at his own joke, while trying to move his throbbing head as little as possible.

“Yeah, and you’re not much of an actor.” Scott sighed then barked loudly, “Take fifteen everyone!” Scott went over and put his arm around Kyle and started pulling him off the set. “Let’s take a walk Kyle.”

They walked out the door and into an alley between sound stages. Scott leaned into Kyle. “Here’s the thing Kyle. I don’t mind you wanting to screw Beverly; she is a real star and every straight guy on the set wants to give her a pounding. I don’t even mind that you have taken just about every extra on the shoot to bed; hell, they are extras, they have to expect to be screwed. But Kyle, my friend, I do mind when you screw up my fucking scene! You got fifteen minutes, Kyle. Go to your trailer, get yourself a drink, maybe do some blow. Hell, I don’t care if you shoot up, just when you get your ass back, act like you enjoy the fucking shot of whiskey! Because if you don’t Kyle, I will see that this is the last fucking movie set you ever darken. Is that a clear enough motivation for ya, Kyle?”

“Yeah, sure Scott. I got it.” As Kyle walked off towards his trailer he saw a group of extras, huddled together, smoking. One blonde extra in a saloon girl outfit caught his eye. He hadn’t had her yet, maybe she could be his lunch.

Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.

Daily Sketch -- Sideview

Another sketch from around 2002 taken from a book of poses.

Mamacita

“What a piece of junk!” Junior eyed George’s new car with distain. It was a 1968 Dodge Dart, so calling it “new” was a misnomer, though it was newly owned by George.

“Man, you aren’t seeing the potential in this baby. Once I soup it up, drop in a Hemi, give it a new paint job, some tuck-n-roll, you will eat those words, my friend.” George shook his head, like he was in disbelief. “Calling my mamacita junk? You will eat every one of those words.”

“That’s no mamacita, more like a skank.”

“Well, that is your area of expertise. I’ve seen who you’ve been sneaking around with.” George laughed and wagged his finger in Junior’s face. “Juanita Hernandez, jeeze bro, and you talk about my taste?”

Junior sheepishly grinned. “What can I say, she may not be much to look at, but she has it where it counts.”

“The problem is bro, you and every other guy in the neighborhood knows exactly what she’s got.”

Junior just shrugs. “You like a well-used car that you don’t need to break in or be gentle with, I’m that way with my women.” Junior leans against the dusty, dented fender of his friend’s Dart. “Man, she does like it rough. Sometimes…sometimes she scares me. I mean, she asks me to do things…things I’ve never done before.”

“These things she asks you to do, do you like them?”

“That’s what scares me bro, I do. I really like them.”

George wrapped his arm around his friend and gave him a man hug. “Some guys are meant for Ferraris, some for Dodge Darts. Some guys need Jennifer Lopez and some need Juanita Hernandez. If you like what you got, own it man. No need to go sneaking around. Take that be-yotch out in public like a man. Show some huevos.”

“You’re right man, I’ve got to treat her better.” Junior smiled. “Who would want Jennifer Lopez anyway?”

“Yeah, who needs a Ferrari when you got a Dodge Dart?”

Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.

Daily Sketches - Poon Tang Chain Gang Portraits

Some preliminary sketches I did for a team banner I once made, back in the day, for a little group we called the Poon Tang Chain Gang. You may be wondering about the odd selection of men, Gandhi, Clint Eastwood and Curly. There is a story there somewhere...

16 Psyche Passes

I don’t know how I’m alive or why.

Worn is not the word to describe my shoes. Hell, there is so little left of them that shoes is not even the word to describe my shoes. I walked for four months through constant rain to get here. Whatever level of abrasive destruction comes after worn, my shoes definitely qualify.

When people first talked of actually mining the asteroid belt it all sounded pretty simple and safe. Most of the precious metals on the crust of the Earth came from asteroids. Along with the comets they also brought all of the water to our planet. So, as we used up what little we had to build circuit boards and microchips and all the other little goodies we had all become dependent on for day-to-day living or what we laughably called social communication, why not go back to the source for more? Only, that damn asteroid belt is a hell of a long way from here. So they decided to pick a big juicy M-Type asteroid, 16 Psyche, and move it closer to Earth.

It was hellishly expensive, but 16 Psyche was the mother lode of all mother lodes. One rock that made up a little less than 1% of the mass of the entire asteroid belt and M-Type to boot. No water on this baby, all metal, 133 miles long, 112 miles wide and 90 miles thick.  They spent years figuring out how to move it. They mined smaller bodies, C-Types, for water and then converted the water into liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen which they used to fuel the large motors they buried into the surface of 16 Psyche.

By the time it came time to move 16 Psyche, they had had lots of practice with the smaller bodies they had consumed for fuel, but, 16 Psyche was different. It was a solid block of metal the size of Maryland and 90 miles thick. 16 Psyche was 155 million miles from Earth when they fired the first of the rockets. They hoped to move it slowly into an orbit between Earth and Mars, about 22 million miles away, then they decided to try and move it closer. That was when they lost control of it.

We knew for years that it was coming and then for weeks that it was not going to miss, that it was the end of all things.  Facing extinction the human race did not show its nobler self. We went out in an orgy of death and violence. It was sickening to see. I took to the mountains of Colorado to watch the world end from high above and to avoid the not so tender touch of my fellow man. I saw the messenger of death kiss the atmosphere and was almost pleased that at least now the inhumanity of man would end.

The mountain began to crumble around me just from the passing of 16 Psyche overhead. I fell and welcomed my death, but I awoke days or weeks later, surrounded by rock but alive. I missed the impact into the Indian Ocean and the blast that traversed the globe after that, but the sky was dark and it rained and rained and rained.
 
I had expensive meds and a backpack full of dehydrated food and energy pills. I walked and walked through the rain. For a while I scavenged off the carcasses I found and stumbled on day after day, till one day I found this place. I’m guessing it was a really exclusive ski lodge at one point, built right into the rock. More than half of it was crushed, but what wasn’t offered shelter and more rations.

How many of the human race are alive I have no clue, but the world is a dying wet mess and nothing living will survive the perpetual rain and darkness.  I bide my time and wait for my world to end.

I don’t know how I’m alive or why.

Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.

Daily Sketch -- Backside

This is from around 2002, I think. I must have been looking through a book of nude poses and drawing them around that time.

Stripped

I brushed past the outstretched hands holding flyers plastered with pictures of scantily-clad women as I made my way down the strip. Maybe my least favorite thing about Las Vegas was the constant bombardment with escort service flyers in a town where prostitution was supposedly illegal. I’d heard the stories of guys spending $400 for a bottle of Andre sparkling wine and a woman to drink it with in a “special” back room, only to discover that that is exactly what they got. No sexual favors, “Keep your hands off of her buddy; prostitution in illegal in Las Vegas. Drink your wine and then get out.”

I didn’t need the aggravation, though the strip clubs did call and I had a pocket full of ones and twenties, which I knew would be gone by the end of the evening, last known whereabouts, the panties of one stripper or another. We men are puppets to our hormones and hard wiring. Really, it isn’t even a fair battle; most of us don’t stand a chance. We are so easy, so susceptible to the lies that fall from the mouths of strippers as they move in close to talk, their intoxicating aromas filling our heads, their cleavage delighting our eyes.

There is an indignity to it, being manipulated and controlled so easily. I know guys who refuse to go into strip clubs, hell, refuse to even go to a Hooters because they don’t want to give over control to women in that way, and they know they are slaves to their body’s wiring. These friends are probably right; the only way to resist is to not put yourself in the position. Like the end of that movie War Games, “The only way to win, is not to play.” Yeah, that about nails it.

I walk into the strip club and a beautiful young thing takes my arm and shows me to a seat next to the stage. Yeah, so much for winning.

Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.

One Month and Counting

One month and counting. I am going to do my best to enjoy every minute of this.

Daily Sketch -- Vows Page Two

 

This is maybe 10 years old. A layout for the second page of a comic version of the screenplay "Vows" I wrote with Tom Fudge, this the opening scene, someone waking up after having a vision, getting out of bed and kicking an accordion, then walking past a picture of him in the Polka Pimps.



Dail Sketch -- Vampirilla

This one is within the last few years. I would love to be able to draw this character like the legendary Jose Gonzalez did. He drew the sexiest women in the world.

Dealing With It

I love a good casino with good air filtration. I don’t smoke and the air I have to breathe is usually the only thing I don’t like about casinos. Today there was another thing I disliked.

I play blackjack, not because it is the fairest game you can play (it isn’t), but because I like the simplicity of it. The rules are simple and it doesn’t take long to learn them. The thing to remember in blackjack is luck comes in streaks. If you are not on a streak, you bet the minimum, when you are on a streak you escalate with each bet. When you can, you get your money out and play with the house’s money. It is the only way to really have a chance at winning.

I am sitting in the sixth chair, next to last. I like this position because I get to see a lot of cards before I have to make a decision. I’ve been playing for a half hour or so at a $5 table and am about even. I win some, I lose some, but no real streaks. In chair one and two are these two Asian women who are running the table. They know how to play and they are telling everyone when to split pairs and when to double down and when to hit and when to stay. I like them. They know the rules very well.

The dealer sends an eight and a queen my way. He shows a 3. The Asian women start barking orders to the table, “Nobody take a hit. Let the dealer take the face card!” They are correct. We are all over 10 and in good shape. The dealer has a king in the hole and then draws a jack. He goes bust and we all win. I didn’t know it was the beginning of my streak, but it was.

My $5 bet became a $10 bet and when I won that I pulled my original $5 out and was playing solely with the house’s money from then on. My $15 bet turned into a $25 bet as I pulled in my first profit. After 10 straight wins. I had pulled over $250 in profit and had $150 on the table.

We all get low cards and paint, but the dealer is showing a three. Perfect again. Once again the Asian women send out the word, “Nobody take a hit! Let the dealer bust! Let the dealer bust!” We all do as we should till it gets to the guy in chair seven. He has a minimum $5 on the table and 12 showing. He goes, “Should I take a card?”

We all yell in unison, “NO!”

He gives us this strange, drunken look and slams his palm down on the table, “CARD!” he yells into my ear. He pulls a deuce. His 14 is really no better than the 12 he had to begin with, but he stops. We all stare at him in disbelief that he would take a card when he didn’t need to.

The dealer has a 10 in the hole and pulls an ace, which puts him at 14, then pulls a seven. Twenty-fucking-One. I look at the drunken asshole to my left and say, “You need to learn the damn rules you jackass. You just cost me $300.”

“What, what did I do?”

“Think about it for a while.”

He soon left, but his mistake took all the luck from the table. The Asian women left a few minutes later and I lasted ten or so more before getting up and leaving. Yeah, they call it gambling for a reason.

Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.

Daily Sketch -- Green Lantern

Back to some rougher sketches. This would be from sometime around 1987-88. Can't nail it down any more than that. Green Lantern obviously.

Daily Sketch

I'm not sure what this is or when it is from. Obviously graphite, done sometime between the late 1990s and the mid-2000s. This is one of a few so I think I had a book of poses and just decided to sit down one day and see how I could do at copying them.

Daily Sketch -- Batman Comes Clean

I think I have drawn this scene a couple of times. I don't know why but it always sits there in my head, wanting to come out. I am guessing this is from the early 1990s. "The tide is high but I'm holding on..."

Daily Sketch -- Vows Redux

These are from last year. Another shot at the "Vows" screenplay, this one as a daily comic strip as opposed to a comic book. A little more finished than a sketch actually. This was done on my Surface tablet using Manga Studio.

Daily Sketch -- Vows

This is maybe 10 years old. A layout for a comic version of the screenplay "Vows" I wrote with Tom Fudge, this is the opening scene, someone waking up after having a vision.

Daily Sketch -- More Madness

This is another from 1978, for my "Madness" story for Mayhem #3. I'm just working out a few panels here. This is a continuation of the strip idea involving American Indian spirits that I had while sitting in the Kelva Communications booth at the San Diego Comic Con that year. For you youngsters out there, the thing in her hand is called a phone.

Lovely Lynda May

The gorgeous Lynda May, done August 10, 2014. A 25-minute pose done in black and white charcoal pencil on gray Strathmore paper.

The Case of Carla, the Undateable, From A to Z.

Almost everyone thought Carla was a lost cause; the most undateable girl on campus. Between her lack of social skills and her poor hygiene, she surely seemed hopeless. Carla never had a date and the way things were going, she never would have one, which was now Donna’s problem.

Donna had been given the task, as a pledge to the hottest sorority on campus, of getting Carla a date. Every guy she talked about to about taking Carla out, gave pretty much the same answer.

“Forget it.”

Given the universally negative responses, Donna even tried to bribe guys into taking Carla out. Holy cow, when guys in college don’t respond to money, you know the cause is pretty much lost. It got so bad that Donna even stooped to offering certain, shall we say, favors, to a guy willing to take Carla out. Just as with offers of monetary gain, her offer of pleasant favors fell on deaf ears.

Kindness didn’t work, nor did bribery. Left with little else to work with, Donna contemplated blackmail.

Mark was a guy she had dated in high school and she knew he had paid someone to take his SATs for him. Never did she think she would go so low as to blackmail an old boyfriend, but her time was running out.

Of course, it didn’t work. Perhaps it would have worked if Mark did not have the, ehem, video of the two of them in a rather compromising position.  Questions she did not want to have to answer would be asked it that video ever saw the light of day.

Reluctantly, Donna began to look at the possibility of not making it into a sorority. She would feel like a failure and she just didn’t want to face that possibility. The stink of desperation was upon her.

Using all her feminine wiles, she made one last attempt to get Carla a date. Very sexily she asked a number of boys to do her “the biggest of favors” and take poor little Carla out for a good time.

What she got in return was a series of one “no” after another, accompanied by some of the strangest facial contortions and ticks she had ever witnessed.  Xenophobic is what the boys became.

Yes, they really didn’t think she was an alien, but Donna knew that her chances of her getting any of them to go out with Carla were slim and none and that some thinking “outside the box” would be required if she hoped to become a sorority sister.

Zen teachings say that “what you resist, persists,” so Donna stopped resisting, changed her life and asked Carla out.

Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.

Daily Sketch -- Corrigan?

This was found on notebook paper, folded up inside one of my sketchbooks. No idea when this was drawn or exactly what it is. However, if I had to guess it would say it must have something to do with Secret Agent Corrigan and Al Williamson. Al's work on Corrigan always brought out the desire in me to do a spy strip and I always wished I had a clean style like Al's. This might be from photos or it might be swipes from Corrigan.

Daily Sketch -- Pelican

Drew this from a photo taken in Cabo San Lucas. Just another attempt at an ink-only drawing.

Vanilla Fudge "You Keep Me Hanging On" Live on Jimmy Fallon

I saw these guys last night and was just in awe. One of my favorite bands for 47 years. A real thrill. Nobody, I mean nobody, sounds like the Vanilla Fudge. This was their closing song last night. Just awesome.

Daily Sketch -- Captain Nazi

Captain Marvel Jr's arch enemy Captain Nazi, drawn around 1979 or so.

Daily Sketch -- Marooned

Another piece from 1979. Working on ideas for a story for our Mayhem comic that never went anywhere. Once again, I seemed to be working of back shots a lot at this time.

Daily Sketch -- Aquaman

Sing along with me! "Aquaman, the bold and daring, King of the Seven Seas!" I've tried to draw Aquaman a lot over the years, never too successfully. No idea what year this was, though something in the legs makes me think I was studying a Bridgeman book at the time.

Vanilla Fudge - Shotgun

Anticipating Hot Fudge Friday!

Daily Sketch -- Eh, Not Sure

Hmmm, Not sure what to say about this one. It looks like some sort of worm wearing a bowtie. Can't think of what this would have been for, so I would say I was just messing around.

Dirtbags

The party of the corporations, by the corporations and only for the corporations. Absolutely sickening.

Daily Sketch -- Orchids

This was done about 2007 when I went through a short period of ink sketches.

Birdman

Damn, this looks so good. Hope it doesn't disappoint.

Daily Sketch -- Sweet Hitchhiker

Guessing I drew this around 1979, though it could have been much later. I don't remember anything about this one. All I know is she is hitchhiking and it appears to be cold outside.

Vanilla Fudge - Vanilla Fudge [Full Album]

Six days till we see the Fudge live. The anticipation is building.

Daily Sketch -- Batman Again

It looks like this may have been done in 1990, but I can't be sure. Just another doodling sketch of the Caped Crusader.

Daily Sketch -- Madness

It was the 1978 San Diego Comic Convention (as it was called in those days) and Baron Mrkva, Burt Griswold and I were sitting in our booth for our comic book, Mayhem, selling copies and original artwork and just getting our name out there...when the germ of an idea came to me. I think I might have wanted to do a Psycho-like shower scene but as I started to draw, this idea of American Indian spirits came into my head. As I kept laying out this page, the idea grew into a story I would do for Mayhem #3. Of course, there was no Mayhem #3 and the story was never finished, but a few penciled pages and layouts for the whole story were eventually done. But that entire story came out of my desire to draw a woman taking a shower.

Roger Comes to Dinner

Just a scene that may or may not make it into my novel

Roger reached the front door, but didn’t bother to knock; Kat’s favorite, power ballads, were booming out of the living room speakers and she would never have heard his knock over the music. Besides, there just seemed something wrong with having to knock to enter Kat’s house.

He didn’t walk in quietly, but Kat seemed to not have heard him. He found her in the kitchen, her head over a pot of something that smelled delicious and as he moved quietly up behind her, she bent over the pot and started to wiggle her butt suggestively.

“See anything you like?”

“I see everything I like. I didn’t think you knew I was here.”

Kat turned towards him, a big wooden spoon in her hand, “When Kat’s nether regions begin to tingle, she knows who has entered the room.” As she leaned forward and kissed him, a big splotch of red sauce dropped from the spoon, splattering Roger’s shirt.

“Kat! Watch what you’re doing!”

Kat smiled and raised her eyebrows, giving Roger a smoldering look. “Why don’t you take that shirt off and I’ll wash it for you.”

“Is your sloppiness at cooking all a ploy to get me undressed?”

Kat laughed. “I don’t know if I would call it a ploy…” She reached up and pulled Roger’s shirt over his head, her hand running between his pecs, “…but I do like the results.” Kat tossed the shirt onto the floor.

“Hey, that’s a new shirt. Why I ought to…”

“Ought to what? Punish me?” Kat’s smile grew even larger. “I think I need to be punished.” There was a fire in her eyes. “Don’t you?”

She spun around and turned off the stove. Without looking back she started walking towards the bedroom, removing clothes as she went. “I have been such a bad, bad girl.”

Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.

Daily Sketch - Girl on a DC-10

Over the years I have found that one of the easiest things to draw is people on planes. They can't go anywhere and they have a very limited range of movement making them perfect subjects for quick sketches.

Daily Sketch -- Hold That Pose!

This was done sometime in the late 70s I would guess, but I don't remember the source. I have a feeling she was nude and I just added the clothes on her.

Bloodbath Rising Redux

I've now more or less completed this acrylic painting of Bloodbath, reimagining a scene from Mayhem #1. I've added a sword, scabbard and belt to the figure and tweaked it here and there.  Bloodbath was Lester Connors, the "payload" for the first human teleportation experiment. During the experiment an earthquake sends Lester not only through space but through dimensions to the planet Marba, where magic still exists and people still settle their arguments with the sharp end of a sword.

Daily Sketch -- Something is in the Woods

Another from 1979. A rough sketch that kept getting darker and darker as I worked on it.

Daily Sketch -- And Yet Another Batman

A big-foot Batman from 1979. I think I was enamored with the inking of Terry Austin at the time and was trying to duplicate that, with little success. I did a lot of sketches with big feet around this time.

Arthur Lee & Love - Seven & Seven Is

The late, great Arthur Lee live doing Seven and Seven Is. Just magic.

When I was a boy I thought about the times I'd be a man
I'd sit inside a bottle and pretend that I was in a can
In my lonely room I'd sit my mind in an ice cream cone
You can throw me if you wanna 'cause I'm a bone and I go
Oop-ip-ip oop-ip-ip, yeah!

If I don't start cryin' it's because that I have got no eyes
My father's in the fireplace and my dog lies hypnotized
Through a crack of light I was unable to find my way
Trapped inside a night but I'm a day and I go
Oop-ip-ip oop-ip-ip, yeah!

1-2-3-4!

Daily Sketch -- The Uptake

So I am guessing this was done in the 90s, but I really don't know. I always liked the camera angle on this one. Of course, being just an ink sketch, what you see is what I drew, no going back and changing anything.

Rescue Me! C'mon! C'mon!

I just read an article on 9 TV Intros that were too good to skip. I thought the article was shit because it didn't include this one, which I watched every single time it came on and never tired of. Maximize the screen and crank it up for the full Impact!

Daily Sketch -- The Atom

 

Continuing with doing back shots, this is my take on DC's The Atom. This was done in that same 1979 timeframe.

Shark!

This is some pretty impressive stuff, watching how a shark hunts its prey. Bump it up full screen to get the full effect.

Daily Sketch -- Capturing a Flying Thingamajig.

I was working on back shots for a long time, trying to develop a style that worked for me. No idea what this is supposed to be, but it is another from the 1979 time frame.

Daily Sketch -- Tracking

A Native American tracking someone I would say. Probably from 1979.

David Bowie: Five Years Trailer

I am a huge David Bowie fan and saw this on Showtime last week and loved it. The interviews with Carlos Alomar, Earl Slick and Carmine Rojas bring a lot of insight into some of Bowie's iconic songs. Damn, this was great.

Daily Sketch -- Another Batman

Another Batman from 1979. I was in a Batman rut for a while there.

Daily Sketch -- Waiting at Jury Duty

 

I remember I was sitting in the waiting room at the court to be called to a jury when I sketched this out of a National Geographic. 

Republican House panel: No administration wrongdoing in Benghazi attack

This should be a lesson to every conspiracy-theory-screaming republican out there that you cannot believe the unadulterated bullshit you are being fed daily by fox news. In the end you just look like the fools you apparently really are. Here are the highlights you should know:

• The House Intelligence Committee, led by Republicans, has concluded that there was no deliberate wrongdoing by the Obama administration in the 2012 attack on the U.S. Consulate in Benghazi, Libya, that killed Ambassador Chris Stevens and three other Americans.
• Intelligence agencies were "warned about an increased threat environment, but did not have specific tactical warning of an attack before it happened."
• "A mixed group of individuals, including those associated with al Qaeda, (Moammar) Khadafy loyalists and other Libyan militias, participated in the attack."
• "There was no 'stand-down order' given to American personnel attempting to offer assistance that evening, no illegal activity or illegal arms transfers occurring by U.S. personnel in Benghazi, and no American was left behind."
• The administration's process for developing "talking points" was "flawed, but the talking points reflected the conflicting intelligence assessments in the days immediately following the crisis."

So what will be the next insane bullshit lie the republicans will scream at us for months on end only to have it quietly disappear over time without so much as a whimper? The gullibility of republicans seemingly knows no bounds.

Daily Sketch -- Run! Run! Run!

This looks like another piece from the late 70s to me. I think after I screwed up his neck I lost interest in finishing it.

Daily Sketch -- A Woman

Not sure what the source of this one is. I think I might have drawn it from a magazine picture while sitting in my doctor's waiting room. I'm just not sure anymore.

Kaluta Knows!

In all the years I attended ComicCon, this is the only picture I ever had drawn for me. This the of course The Shadow drawn by the great Michael William Kaluta and a piece I shall cherish for the rest of my life.

Daily Sketch -- Wildblood?

I'm not really sure who this is, though it might be Wildblood. He was a political prisoner who was cryogenically suspended for a hundred years or so and woke up in a world where humanity was on the wane, due to a genetic virus that has sterilized like 99.999% of humanity. Done sometime in the late 1970s for a strip I was going to do called The Queen Bee Syndrome.