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been very very busy doing everything for everyone in January, and of course all of it top secret (love that secrecy of my trade), I've not had time to eat not to mention update any blogs. Still not finished really, but nearly. 

That's some part of it greater scheme of things - scary scary train (not mine this time, just illustrated by me), rather old one really, from the summer.

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Christmas time in Zamosc. 

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I'm feeling real bad about not posting cos I wanted to discipline myself into being more productive, but I'm not having easy time exactly, on many levels, so it's hard. I'm sorry.

That's a little .gif extract from a project I've been working on in August, but it's not available online yet.

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that's a music video I helped on with (post production) in the summer. apart from that, I'm pretty ill, I'll be back when I get better.

9304: bird theme

 I saw this homeless man one day on Princes Street. I was walking home after work in the evening, and he was reading a book. I glanced him as I walked by; it was an ornithology book. I'm sure that reality was far from romantic or even interesting, but I allowed myself to dramatise it a bit in my head: birds being free, beautiful creatures "above" us - ever trapped by gravity; you know a bit like this over-quoted Oscar Wilde about gutter and stars.

It also reminded me of all the ornithology books I've read when I was younger that I got from my granddad. He knew a lot about birds and he could tell them by their song. That impressed me, and I wanted him to teach me, but he died before that, and took this, and many other things, with him. I was left with many books, but none of them could tell me how to tell the birds by their song.

I never met anyone who could since then. Anyone would would care about such thing at all.

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Sometimes it's like: you're upset, and because of that, you drop a cup, and it breaks, and you're more upset, and you try to clean up, but because you're upset and not careful, you cut yourself on the glass, and you drown in upset.
When one feels weak and small, tiny, tiny things bring us down.

Sometimes I used to feel like Thumbelina, the world was so big, and I was so small, and so many seemingly insignificant things could crush me just like that.

(that's really an old drawing from college times that I've just coloured now, and I'm fine, well as fine as ever, as fine as it gets, thanks)

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(sorry, casual bitch, I need a holiday from this bar, really)
People won't make your life easier, not even when you're making theirs easier. 

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Still no good: nothing carefree to chase away hopeless questions of the doomed existential kind. But hey, meet Hedgehog: 

Hedgehog as a character has been with me since forever, since I was little, but he (*can't write 'he', he became 'it' in current project) has only been given a proper story recently. Hedgehog's big and strong and scary, made of metal, covered with sharp, deadly spikes.

There was a whole family of hedgehogs living under our terrace, under my window when I was little, and they used to scare the hell out of me in the evening when it was quiet. My dad told me to never look for their nest, because if they thought we knew about them, they'd move away (a bit like Borrowers). And I found them interesting and inspiring: armoured on the outside, but essentially shy and cute creatures.

Also, just being unproductive I looked at the old "Diving Bell" video I helped on back when I was still a student, and gosh, you know how you'd always think of old work like "hell that was rubbish, so long ago" (or maybe that's just me), this time I thought: oh, that looks nice. Especially this last shot I took a screen shot of: