Against my better judgement...

I'm a private person by nature, and beyond that; tremendously socially awkward. But, the bad@$$ folk I speak with that enjoy my art say they'd like to know more about the man behind the pen, more about the process. So here I am, prying my noggin so you can viddy the mess inside.

And hey, if you don't like what you see, you can always just go back to the artwork right? :-D

My thoughts this week have been focused on organization & discipline. Discipline I'm pretty good on, categorically speaking. But being the cliche left-brained artist type; organization isn't just "not my strong suit", it's a phantom. And as I near some fightening transitions in my Coast Guard career; the foundations of making my art and writing a full time gig is paramount. 

Yes, I realize that traditional, black & white horror illustrations are a ridiculously niche thing.

But I also know I can do better at getting it out to you folks that wanna see it. When I was a kid, I ate up the work of Wrightson, O'Barr, Eastman/Laird, & Bradstreet. Still do today. I'd like to hope there's a place for my work in that pantheon of tremendous names. So as I laid down to get some short sleep before the watch. And, while praying for guidance; Ben Franklin's approach to time-management popped into mind. I'm not even sure when I came across this gem, but I find it inspiring.


So I drafted a sked

to manage this Yog-Sothoth of horrors that is the melding of art & social media.


I'm a watch-stander

(shiftworker), so although a stable sked is improbable. I'm still up for the challenge.

Just in this past three days of adopting this sked I've already drawn more, made progress in my Unhuman book, and (I'm convinced not-coincidentally) spent better quality time with my family.

Yesterday was my fourteenth wedding anniversary and my wife and I spent it in Madison, Indiana. A quaint town with many unique features. One of which, an intricate sequence of trails and waterways. There's an abandoned railroad tunnel there. It's dark, constricted and, in a word; intimidating. About fifty feet in when the mouth behind us was a pinprick of light, I thought hard about turning back. We weren't really dressed for the excursion and had no light save for a low-battery cell that we kept passing between us. 

at the mouth of the tunnel.jpg

At the time I hadn't realized how directly this translated to my season of life right now...





But passing through that tunnel with my bride's hand in mine. And despite the unsubstantiated fear provided by our transit through a "haunted tunnel". I knew that my creations and my creativity, that is my children and my art, were still waiting for us at home.






This tunnel is insignificant, and I look forward to the next season.



- Z.


P.S. - A huge thanks to great friends over at my haunted Patreon, especially Tre Heckerman & Mary Anne Shwartz for their support and fellowship!