Stephanie Tillman‘s designs match a subject, often an animal or two, with a matter-of-fact line of text. She applies the imagery to postcards and prints, but the embroideries are the most successful in capturing a sense of earnestness behind them. All handmade by the artist herself, each piece is permanently glued to a flexihoop — such a great touch as a frame — and finished with fabric to hide the stitching on the back. Available through her Etsy store.
Emily Deutchman‘s 44 watercolors liven up the genre of presidential portraiture with — you guessed it — boobs. Each take on the president’s official portrait becomes a super easy, lowbrow Where’s Waldo. But, you know, with boobs. While seated portraits can often be elitist, the results here are a great reminder on Election Day: just because you may have held one of the highest offices in the world, your image is still very much in the hands of the people.
The pages of Nicholas Stevenson‘s sketchbooks feel more complete than most. Rather than distract, the thoughtful use of bright colors and intricate patterns help pull the scenes together. Each spread portrays a private moment in which viewers may pass unnoticed and draw their own conclusions. (via)
Nate Turbow‘s drawings are released every few days via his blog and Tumblr. Each “cartoon joke” feels raw, off-the-cuff and honest. The blog format works well for the quick, one-off style of each cartoon as the post titles often act as captions.
The resulting collection is an acute sense of bumming through life — being both painfully aware one’s mediocrity and simultaneously not giving a shit.
NSFW if cartoon boobs are forbidden in your place of work.
There’s a lot to look at in Stephanie Kunze‘s illustrations. Minnesota-based Kunze draws with pencil and colors with Photoshop for an overall style that is contoured and slightly textured. The compositions are feminine and detailed and should feel busy, but the dream-like subjects still seem rested and calm. Worth a look is Kunze’s personal blog for a clearer picture into her thought and execution processes.
Liz Insogna‘s Afterlife draws from Greek mythology surrounding the realm of Hades. Two bodies of water, Lethe and the Pool of Memory, offer dead souls a couple of options in how they want to handle their past life’s memories when reincarnated. Common souls flocked to Lethe to wipe the slate clean. For those who resisted the temptation of Lethe and convinced the guards to let them pass, the Pool of Memory promised knowledge of past lives as well as the future well into your new life.
It’s a rich territory that Liz Insogna explores with dream-like watercolors and oils, lingering, swirling and fading near subjects that seem despondent.