No. 230: Girl On Her Mountain

No. 230, "Kalea" by Tom Wills, December 2013

The prayer on this drawing is the short version.
I edited it to fit on the mountainside, and to describe the scenery.
The full version means much to the young woman who took it to the top of the Andes mountains, Kalea Hall.

She is, by now, used to my chipping away at words.  She works at a newspaper where I am her editor.
But I felt a little uneasy messing with a prayer, let alone someone's favorite one. So, in a reversal of roles, I had her proofread and approve the edited prayer.

The complete Journeying Prayer is:

Jesus, take me once again on a journey.

Take me to the city.

Take me to the valley and to the mountain.

Take me to the desert,

Take me to the place of wondering,

The place of hunger,

The place of solitude and pain.

Take me to the place where you seem so far away

Yet only You are there.

Remove my possessions,

Remove the pillars of my faithless life,

Remove all the thumbs I suck.

And there in that place, where nothing is left, 

There refine my soul.

Amen.

  

 This is Kalea's story.

"For three weeks in May 2011 I decided to take on an adventure of a lifetime by traveling to Peru. I went with a group of college students my age and three chaperones from the Coalition for Christian Outreach.
Our purpose was to serve the communities we entered and to grow our faith and trust in God. And to realize how we can live with just the small things in life if we truly believe in ourselves and in God. We were all mostly strangers, but in those few weeks our bond became as strong as a family unit. Especially on the trek up the Andes mountains to see the beautiful lost Incan city, Choquequirao."

 

"After our stay in Lima, Peru and Huancayo, Peru we moved on to Cusco, Peru where we awaited the trek. We all knew it would be difficult. We all knew we weren't really ready. But we were fixated at reaching our goal and completing the trek.
"I was one of the members of the group that never camped out and never actually trekked up a mountain and back down. I was nervous, but did my best to hold it in. This was also my first time overseas.
Our tour guide, Miguel, was known as the best in town, along with his crew of mule herders and the "little chef," Juancito. It looked like we had the best team on board to get us through five days and four nights of roughing it. The trek itself was about 20 miles up and 20 miles down. In high altitude, which made it even more difficult."

"We trekked around  8-10 miles daily just to get through. This drawing is of me at the top of the mountain. At this point we reached Choquequirao. The view was astounding. I can't even begin to describe the beauty besides that it was the best reward and it brought tears to my eyes. This trek taught me how much I can truly handle. I was in pain throughout the trek from blisters. But that didn't stop me. If it were not for the group of people I just met encouraging me to just keep going, I know I wouldn't have made it all the way. My faith in myself and hope that God would give me the strength to keep going also got me through this seemingly insurmountable journey."

"Sadly, Miguel, our beloved tour guide, was killed on this very trek not even a year after my trip in a landslide. Just knowing him in those five short days, I realized he wouldn't have wanted to live on this earth any other way."

The drawing itself was difficult. I used two photographs: One of Kalea and the mountains, and one of the sky and the mountains. I sketched her in first.
The mountaintops came next, and then the valleys. I was working from a color photo to black and white, so I shaded carefully with my pencils.
I drew in the clouds before stenciling on the letters, and inking them to stand out.

A very nice note that I will keep.

You can follow the process, below.
The lettering is hand-inked and it's not perfect, but it looks right -- not machined, not mass-produced.
It's natural, and flowing, much like the mountains and the clouds.
This was a wonderful project to undertake. 

No. 229: A Christmas Ride For Max

A Christmas story that arrives a little late ...

N0. 229: Max II, December 2013

Our beautiful friend Max had a rough holiday ride from Ohio to Texas.
Twice.
In the end, it was worth the trips: His adventures in transit helped long-time friends and families in three states reconnect and re-establish their relationships, after decades of silence.
Max, you see, has been a very good boy.

Max

I was blessed with a wonderful childhood in a great neighborhood with wonderful and caring neighbors, Jan and Bob Hipple with their three daughters and son. They were all athletic and tanned types while I was pale and musical and sneezy, yet somehow everyone found common ground -- especially my late mother and Jan, who frequented each other's kitchens and saw each other through times good and bad.

No. 224: Max I, November 2013

But people come and go from this earth, or they grow up and move off and into their own lives, or they realize their retirement dreams in places such as Florida. On their own paths, they do lose track of and touch with each other.
Social media has many faults but it is valuable for connecting -- and reconnecting -- people.
Jan (I still call her "Mrs. Hipple") and I would chat on Facebook and relive some nice memories, while acknowledging the tragic ones in both families' books.

My girl Emily and our boy Corly

Eventually the topic of German Shepherds came up. I'm sure it blew her mind, hearing that I have one, Corly, considering all of those childhood sneezes and wheezes. Turns out her son Jeff's daughter Brittany has one, too.  Max.
And could I please draw him for Christmas?
Well, of course, I would be delighted!

Here is the birth of Max I on my drawing table, before Thanksgiving.
We tried to keep the gift a secret,  but that plan got blown away in a Texas storm.

The first Max drawing left the post office in Cortland, Ohio, on Nov. 29, the day after Thanksgiving.  He was to arrive in Frisco, Texas -- north of Dallas -- by Tuesday, Dec.  3, or maybe Thursday the 5th.

Texas, I was told, is "a tough state to get stuff to."
What happened next isn't really clear, but by the 5th Max had not arrived. I figured I'd wait until Monday the 9th to worry.

 

Unfortunately, the storm hit by the 7th:
More than 3,300 travelers were forced to sleep on cots overnight at Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport, where workers had managed to thaw only two of its seven runways by Saturday morning.
Airlines canceled more than 400 flights from DFW that were scheduled for Saturday. Nearly a thousand flights were canceled on Friday.
At the height of the storm, some 267,000 electricity outages were reported in Texas.

The ice storm affected millions of people. Travel by vehicle or foot was dangerous due to icy roads and falling trees and power lines.  In some locations hit by ice, temperatures dipped into the single digits and teens in the storm's wake, causing wet and slushy areas to freeze solid.
This is in Texas, people. Already "a tough state to get stuff to," remember?
Emails and texts were exchanged, and phone calls, then finally Max arrived 18 days later.

Max I upon arrival in Frisco, Texas

He was a mess. Creased and crushed, it appeared his tiny postal shipping tube -- more of a square, really -- had gotten piled upon by tons of holiday packages, for a really long time.
It looked to me like it had been driven over. 
I called Brittany in Texas and we tried steam-ironing him flat, but he could not be salvaged. No amount of insurance or apology would draw him again.
She was disappointed, grandma was upset and I was crushed -- no pun intended.

His rebirth begins.

I said I would draw Max again, no hesitation.
No two drawings, however, can be exactly the same.

Sometimes the differences are subtle. Other are more pronounced, for a reason.
Lessons are learned the first time around, some repeated and some not on the second attempt.
The second Max, I decided, would have a fuller neck line and better ears. Partially Corly's ears, in fact.

Another important lesson Max brought home is how important my art is to me, and to those on the receiving end. There is a bonding during the process, and expectations are high.
If it's not right, I want to make it right.
It's my signature under the snout.

 

I drew Max II in three days. I worked the night shift, and got up early to draw during the days. I drove him to the UPS customer center and shipping facility in Girard, Ohio, and watched the staff tuck him into the biggest, thickest, heaviest tube they could find (and they did have to look around the warehouse for one).
"This must be a pretty important drawing," the helpful clerk-lady said.
"Um-hmmm," I said -- while supervising the packaging.


One lesson that I forgot about was, "Don't ship into a Texas storm." Because four days before Christmas, storms hit again!
The storm danger zone included eastern Texas, northern Louisiana, Arkansas and western Mississippi  -- the result of a collision between arctic air pushing down from Canada and unusually warm air pushing up along the East Coast.

But by Tuesday morning, Max was indeed at the Dallas-Forth Worth International Airport, and the UPS online tracking system asured that he was "on time" for Christmas Eve delivery. Updates were posted on Facebook and anticipation built in three states, and some other friends also tagged along for the virtual ride.
That is, until 10 a.m., when this message arrived:
"Your package encountered a delay. We expect your delivery will be postponed by one business day."
Crap!
Turns out that UPS bit off more than it could chew for the holidays:

Max finally arrived the evening of Dec. 26 and -- wouldn't you know it -- had to spend another night in the tube, locked in a condo complex office!

There is no way I could make up a story like this.

But today, the 27th, at 11:20 our time, I got a sweet text from Brittany:

"I got Max and he is PERFECT!!!!!"

That's five exclamation points. Everything is bigger in Texas.

Look at those ears!

I am so happy that this turned out well, and that Brittany, Jan, Bob, Jeff and others can enjoy an original from me.
Be advised, however, that next year I'm sending dog treats. For Max!

Merry After-Christmas and Happy New Year 
from Tom Wills Productions.

No. 228: Sabbra Cadabra (Tony Iommi)

You've got to be positive about it, and I try as much as I can. Sometimes I start going downhill a little bit, and then I perk back up. I got so many nice letters and messages from fans saying, 'You'll be okay. Just hang in there!'
Read more at http://www.blabbermouth.net/news/black-sabbath-s-tony-iommi-how-i-found-out-i-had-cancer/#IDZTFkBwQjTSAPDk.99

You've got to be positive about it, and I try as much as I can. Sometimes I start going downhill a little bit, and then I perk back up. I got so many nice letters and messages from fans saying, 'You'll be okay. Just hang in there!'
Read more at http://www.blabbermouth.net/news/black-sabbath-s-tony-iommi-how-i-found-out-i-had-cancer/#IDZTFkBwQjTSAPDk.99

You've got to be positive about it, and I try as much as I can. Sometimes I start going downhill a little bit, and then I perk back up. I got so many nice letters and messages from fans saying, 'You'll be okay. Just hang in there!'
Read more at http://www.blabbermouth.net/news/black-sabbath-s-tony-iommi-how-i-found-out-i-had-cancer/#IDZTFkBwQjTSAPDk.99

You've got to be positive about it, and I try as much as I can. Sometimes I start going downhill a little bit, and then I perk back up. I got so many nice letters and messages from fans saying, 'You'll be okay. Just hang in there!'
Read more at http://www.blabbermouth.net/news/black-sabbath-s-tony-iommi-how-i-found-out-i-had-cancer/#IDZTFkBwQjTSAPDk.99

You've got to be positive about it, and I try as much as I can. Sometimes I start going downhill a little bit, and then I perk back up. I got so many nice letters and messages from fans saying, 'You'll be okay. Just hang in there!'
Read more at http://www.blabbermouth.net/news/black-sabbath-s-tony-iommi-how-i-found-out-i-had-cancer/#IDZTFkBwQjTSAPDk.99

"The Player: Tony Iommi" by Tom Wills, December 2013

"You've got to be positive about it, and I try as much as I can. Sometimes I start going downhill a little bit, and then I perk back up. I got so many nice messages and letters from fans saying, "You'll be OK, just hang in there.'"

Not exactly gloom and doom, coming from a guy who brought us "Paraniod," "Children of the Grave," "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath" and "The Mob Rules," among many other deep and dark tracks.
 

No. 228, my study of Tony Iommi, Black Sabbath's guitarist and main man, is related to another face and hand study done this year, No. 223, Lou Reed.  ( http://tomwillsproductions.blogspot.com/2013/11/no-223-shades-of-gray-lou-reed.html  )  You can see a similar approach to the folds of the face, the hand in the foreground and, even, the guitar neck.  Lou took more than a week; Tony took three days, drawn as if I were, um, possessed.

Black Sabbath's music, at least for me, has never been about Ozzy Osbourne's helium voice.
For me, it's always been Tony Iommi's unique and bottom-of-the-well tone. Heavy metal?  This guy is the godfather. Look no further than Black Sabbath Vol. 4 for proof of that.  Iommi lays down a wall of volume, throws in heavy riffs and then tastes it up with melodic flourishes. It's so sick, it's gorgeous.

Now, it's not like I pace around in the Man Cave playing heavy metal, doom rock, sludge music. Nor do I worship demons, I'm not a disbeliever (never "Sold My Soul For Rock'n'Roll") and I have never dismembered a bat.  But every now and then I need music that pummels my soul.

That brings me to this drawing and No. 13, the Black Sabbath reunion record that came out earlier this year.
You see, I was checking out at Geo's Music in Youngstown with used copies of Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald, about to blow $10. That's when I saw a new, sealed collector's copy of No. 13 on the shelf and blew $28.  It's two heavy slabs of thick vinyl and the reviews say the pressings make mincemeat out of the over-compressed CD version.  It certainly is heavy and, while not a classic like Vol. 4, it is a fitting end to the band, should they decide to end it now.

Tony Iommi, much like Lou Reed, has had to face mortality. He endured rounds of chemotherapy during the making of No. 13 and the subsequent tour this year. A guy who has loved his sound since the seventh grade wishes him well.
But these old rockers are tough bastards. Here's what Iommi had to say about it to Guitar World magazine:

"When I’d finished the chemo and the radiotherapy, I went to see the doctor again for my regular blood tests. I said, ‘So it’s gone now?’ And he said, ‘No, it’s not going to go. You’re not going to get rid of it. But we can treat it and work with it.’ I got all dismal, because I thought it was gone. He said there was a 30 percent chance of it going away, but I was probably going to have this for life. Now I get treatments to keep it from spreading. So every six weeks I go in for an infusion of Rituximab, which is one of the four ingredients when they give you the chemo. It takes a few hours, and it makes you feel a bit crap inside and a bit sick. But a couple weeks after, I start perking up again. So that’s how we are working it with the shows. I go out, then come back and go into the hospital for more treatment, more blood tests and all the rest of the rubbish. And then we do it all over again." 

You've got to be positive about it, and I try as much as I can. Sometimes I start going downhill a little bit, and then I perk back up. I got so many nice letters and messages from fans saying, 'You'll be okay. Just hang in there!'
Read more at http://www.blabbermouth.net/news/black-sabbath-s-tony-iommi-how-i-found-out-i-had-cancer/#IDZTFkBwQjTSAPDk.99

Photo from  http://www.classicrockmagazine.com/tag/tony-iommi/