Hugo’s Blog

I want to create a website for my art as this is currently the only place where my work appears online in any substantial form. Thing is, I know nothing about how to go about setting one up, and I have no desire or time to learn. I’d rather spend the money to have someone do it for me and save myself the aggravation and time. So, if you know how to do this and would like the job, please let me know. I have in mind a very basic site, with maybe five categories (Drawings, with 20-30 pieces; Comics, with 5 to 10 pieces; Sketchbook, approximately 20 pieces; Blog, just link to this journal; and Links). Nothing fancy, no bells and whistles.

I assume this is something that can be handled via email, but preference would be given to anybody in the New York City area (I live in Jersey City) so we could meet up if necessary. I’ll pay whatever the going rate is for this kind of work, plus compensation for any additional aggravation that may arise as a result of having to deal with my complete ignorance of these matters. If you’re interested, leave a comment.

Here's an interesting bit of text I came across the other day:
"A common Italian proverb says that no man knows Venus in all her most perfect sweetness if he hasn't gone to bed with a lame woman [...] I would have thought it was the disjointed movement of a lame woman that gave some new pleasure to the event, and some touch of sweetness to those who try it out, but I recently learned that even ancient philosophy established as much; it says that since the legs and thighs of a lame woman do not receive the nourishment they are supposed to, the genitalia, which lie just above, are fuller, more nourished and more vigorous. Or perhaps it is that, given that this defect hinders the act, those afflicted with lameness squander less strength and reach the games of Venus more integral and whole [...] Given the sole authority established by ancient and public use of this proverb, once I even came to believe that I had enjoyed more pleasure with a woman because she was lame, and I counted this among her graces." (Michel de Montainge, Essays, III, 1595)

And I love this post!

Over the weekend, I was cleaning out a box of old cassette tapes and I found this picture at the bottom. It's me from about 13 years ago.

Ugh, that hair! What was I thinking?
And recently, weeblondhooker found this photo of my dear, departed kitty, Tura, from about the same time. I didn't have my own copy of this one, so it was a really nice surprise.

some more pics

So I've been trying to move away from my natural tendency to cross-hatch and shade towards the use of more solid black. The first page of this came out ok, but I'm kinda disappointed with the second; the ending is somewhat predictable and more than a bit cliched. Not sure if these "horror" comics are worth pursuing, but I have a few more ideas in this vein.
(I ended up using Sketch B for that second panel. Thanks to everyone who left comments!)

I'm generally leery of manifestos, credos, statements of belief, etc. etc. but keeping in mind the 13 tenets of the Cult of Done (especially #'s 2, 3, 4, 7 and 10; to be honest, I don't really understand #12) has been serving me pretty well lately. I take way too long with everything and have developed terrible work habits in the past few months, which, combined with a limited amount of time and an ever-expanding pile of sketches and half-formed ideas waiting for development, leads to a great deal of frustration and anxiety. So, it helps to just say "fuck it" and get some things done, however poorly. This drawing is a case in point.

And here be sketches

This is a comic I did for the latest issue of Robin bougieman Bougie’s fantabulous magazine CINEMA SEWER . I’m probably preaching to the choir here since nearly all the LJ friends I have I owe to Robin’s generous plugging of my work on his page, but if you’re one of the few who don’t know the greatness that is CINEMA SEWER, then you owe it to yourself to click on the link and get your hands on a copy. Reading CINEMA SEWER, I get that old feeling I had as a kid when I found something that really spoke to me; that feeling when it’s way past your curfew and you’re on the train heading back from the city, reading a zine or underground comic that you just got your greasy adolescent little fingers on. Don’t you want to feel that same joyful sense of discovery and fun filling your atrophied, crusty little vestigial organ of a heart? Of course you do. And get the back issues and Robin’s book too! Every issue is jam-packed with articles on exploitation and cult cinema, comics, and beautiful illustrations by the likes of Robin, Rebecca r_dart Dart, and Jim jimrugg Rugg, just to name a few. And, like a mad monk in a tower perched atop the shifting tectonic plates of this collapsing culture, Robin hand letters every fucking word!
But it doesn't stop there; Robin's also responsible for editing and publishing SLEAZY SLICE, now in its third filthy incarnation, featuring sick and twisted comics by Robin himself, Mike mike_myhre Myhre, Jim Rugg, Scar, the immortal David Paleo, Josh Simmons, and yours truly (and contrary to what you'll read therein, I live in Jersey City, NOT Hoboken. Fools have died for suggesting less!) Josh Simmons' story "Cockbone" alone makes this worth the price of admission. It's one of the creepiest and most economically--yet beautifully--realized stories I've read in a long time. I could gush on and on about how much I love this story, but just take a look at a few panels and then place your fucking orders!

(All images copyright Josh Simmons. Used with permission!)

This comic appears in DON'T TOUCH ME #19, edited by the mighty sach Get your hands on a copy NOW!

Bored, frustrated, and just generally dissatisfied lately. Can't get going on any drawings; farted this one out last night.

The device he's got on his head is known as a brank.
The girl's arm really bothers me; it looks too much like the gimp's.

It's a little hard to tell in the crappy scan I posted, but the R. Crumb ad from this entry features the notorious dirtbag Richard Speck, who killed eight student nurses in Chicago on one evening in July 1966. On his right arm, you can just make out the classy "Born to raise hell" tattoo that was later used to identify him by the sole survivor of the massacre. Richard was promptly arrested and spent the next 25 years in jail, where, as you can see in the video below, he had a hell of a time.

A toy I always clamored for as a child, but never received, was the Shrunken Head Apple Sculpture Kit, or simply "shrunken heads!" What kid wouldn't want one? The freakin' thing was endorsed by Vincent Price even!

weeblondhooker, having parents who actually loved her, was lucky enough to get one. She remembers it thusly:
"My god, what a weird gift to give a 7 year old. Weird in every conceivable way. The kind of thing you'd give Ed Gein. That said, I do remember liking it, and being very disappointed with my first head b/c in my excitement to have a finished product, I didn't bake it long enough and the lips I tried painting on it kept beading up and rolling right off. The second one was better - and browner - but again, I was frustrated to learn that these things didn't last forever (no concept of organic matter). I was so bruised when my mother de-wigged it and tossed it in the trash."

Indeed. But, the toy I really wanted, the toy I was obsessed with, was...

Hugo, Man of a Thousand Faces! A kid in my neighborhood had one, and I swear, I came so close to braining him with a Tonka truck and stealing the damn thing. I don't know why I wanted it so bad; seems like the kind of toy that'd give a kid nightmares, or worse, just be really boring. How many times could you stick that stupid wig on him before the novelty wore off? In any event, I never got my own Hugo. In my next life I'll make sure not to have a couple of cheap immigrants for parents.

My youthful obsession with this strange, stupid doll is one of the reasons I chose the name Hugo as a psuedonym (the other being that my real name ends in an "o" also, but over my life I've had to deal with people who, for some reason, have trouble remembering it, and the default name they come up with is "Hugo.")

And, speaking of things from the 70's, I just got my hands on a copy of THRILLING MURDER COMICS, from 1971. It's a great collection of sick stories (with the exception of Bill Griffith, who turns in another boring, overly long piece; never did like that guy's work). Crumb's story "Jumping Jack Flash" is a real rip, as is the ad he did for it...