May Art Dump

Hey friends! Wow this year has been a lot so far. Didn’t realize how long it’d been since I posted some art here! So here goes, a selection of some of the things I’ve made this year so far:

Here’s some various tree-scapes I did in February. I was getting more of a handle on some new paints I’d acquired, as well as getting more used to the brushes I was using (primarily a menso brush and a small round brush). I also expanded upon the whole “neat vignette” thing by adding more of a foreground and background, even if simple ones.

In March, I continued with the landscapes, but also noodled around with some character designs and such with different pens and pencils. This in addition to playing around with ink on my paintings again.

In April, I did some more stuff — a page of various ideas I was noodling with that, at the suggestion of a friend, I turned into more of a map of various ideas and places and characters I was experimenting with. I also used a fancy Kakimori dip pen nib for some Patreon rewards, which you can see in the second picture. That thing is a blast to work with, lemme tell ya. It holds a ton of ink and gets nice line variation.

Anyway, that’s about it for this update! I hope y’all enjoyed what I was working on.

Flash Fiction – “Sky Lazer”

Hey friends! I had the inkling to do some more writing and I’m rather proud of this one. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

[CW: (non-graphic) suicide, child death]



Sky Lazer

by Anthony Jutz

It was bed time for Little Jimmy, but Little Jimmy couldn’t go to bed without saying his nightly prayers.

“Oh Sky God, Oh Sky Goddess, would you please bless me this cold September evening with transcendence. I’ve done my chores! I’ve brushed my teeth! Please oh please eradicate me with your Sky Lazer,” Little Jimmy prayed, “I love you and please grant me this wish! Amen.”

Ah, but it was a lucky night for Little Jimmy. He was the winner of the prayer lottery this eve, with the mind-reading orbital strike laser platform, Annihilatron, being synchronized in perfect orbit to grant Little Jimmy’s wish.

Annihilatron charged up its capacitors, focused its scope, and blasted Little Jimmy to kingdom come. Naught but a smoldering crater of Little Jimmy’s neighborhood remained.

Amen.

January Art Thoughts

Hey friends! Figured I’d write up some thoughts I’m having on Twitter, and share some art I’ve done in the last little bit.

Here’s a tree I sketched out for my dad’s birthday recently, with some indigo paints a friend gifted me and some muddy-green ink I picked up that I really like.

Here’s some thoughts I posted to Twitter today, that I think are a nice bit of insight to keep me going:

I can’t remember who posted it, but I saw something like “artists need plenty of time to do nothing”, and honestly? For real. Making stuff, at least for me, requires a massive amount of focus and energy to channel things onto paper. That, on top of more typical life shit lol.

So with that in mind I feel better about not hammering stuff out like in an assembly line. And even if I was? Still would need proper rest time.

A healthy boundary I’m developing in regard to my ambitions, is “what I do and can do is good enough.” I see all this cool shit people make that I love the look of, and instead of having high expectations I just let myself make what I make and do a loose study if I’m so inclined.

I’m hitting a point where I’m fairly content with my level of skill and craft. I am playing around and figuring out what I wanna say, beyond making neat little vignettes to soothe my soul with. Biggest things seem to be “ha isn’t life fucking absurd” and “just gotta keep going.”

I think these speak for themselves, for the most part, but I’ll elaborate a bit just for my own sake, to get some more thoughts out.

A big thing I ran into for ages was having lofty ideals and ambitions, with no clear idea how to get there and limited energy just to brute force it. Even despite that, I’m proud of a lot of what I’ve done and the personal growth I’ve had.

My goal moving forward is self-fulfillment and sustainability. And remembering to live. Art isn’t just putting marks on a page. Music isn’t just hammering out some notes. A big part of it is in studying from life and studying craft — this includes not just learning to do the thing, but learning to say what I want with the thing.

Much of this is related to like, finding the light in the darkness. The world is a deeply chaotic, often unpleasant, but also beautiful place. Giving contrast to and bringing awareness to parts of it can really be enlightening and also sometimes encouraging, despite the deeply dark parts of reality.

Existence, this planet, the things we’ve got, us… it’s all an extremely unlikely thing in this infinite universe we live in. And there’s a lot to do if we’re going to keep existing, but that’s not the focus of this post.

I guess my point is, keep going, keep doing the thing, appreciate it ’til we can’t. I dunno, this post got more existential than I anticipated. I hope y’all got something out of this post, too!

December Update

Hey friends! It’s been a while since I’ve shared anything new here. The work I did during the first half of the year really caught up with me and led me to have to slow down quite a bit. But I’ve still done some cool stuff! I’ll document some of it here.

I’ve done several paintings, but here’s the noteworthy ones that I have scans of.

Below is a quick landscape I did in preparation for a much larger commission I did for a friend. I rather like the weird, acid-yellow/green sky with the haunting blood-red moon. It’s ominous in a way I enjoy.

Below are some fun watercolor and ink trees I painted, as I was easing back into the medium after burning out on it for a bit after the afore-mentioned large commission I did. I had fun with these, and they’re the first ones I did using some “self-evolving” watercolors I bought, which granulate in interesting ways as they dry.

Below are some more trees I painted, using those self-evolving paints. I rather enjoy the granulation and hints at a background that they include.

Below is another painting I did, but this one was with the intent of doing a full-page painting again. I hadn’t quite had the energy to do so for a while, but I’m branching out again and I rather like this as a first attempt.

Beyond that, I did a little bit of music, but not a whole lot. I’m still figuring out what my values and desires for my music are, after releasing so much earlier this year. Any new, little pieces I did can be found at my SoundCloud, which you can find below. Here’s an embedded link of the newest one I’ve done.

Thank you for reading this post! I’ve been uploading stuff more regularly at my Patreon. If you wanna check that out, I’ll drop a link below:

https://www.patreon.com/jankhambrams

Prose – The Filthy One

I had the urge to write something gross, so I figured I’d lean into it and write it. First bit of finished flash fic in like… several months lol. I like the idea of a biomechanical vampire that feeds upon filth.

Content Note: Contains mentions of blood, disease, general gross industrial waste kinda shit


The Filthy One
By Anthony Jutz

The grimy, unfiltered mud on the air fills Bloat’s lungs, as he sips the soot-wasted water. The contamination floods his veins, the tubes and processors attached to his back pulsating angrily. It wouldn’t be long before he was ready.

His vision runs crimson, the industrial wasteland of the city below offering fresh prey. The humans he feeds upon may be vulnerable and weighted by the utter disease of this place, but the residue of factories and their byproducts gives him a strength of desolate, biological perversion. His fangs drip an odd sort of poison, a mixture of blood and disgust, all the better to sap his prey of strength.

Diving below, he tackles a stray human and drags them into the sewer, their screams deadened by his teeth clamping their throat shut. As with the others before, he buries them in the filth, to brew and stew until they are ripe and bloated, perfect for drinking from.

Another night’s good work achieved, Bloat inhales the fetid air and sighs. Time to rest.

May Update

Hey friends! Been ages since I’ve uploaded here, huh. Been busy! Been sick! Been working on all kindsa stuff, some of which I’ll share here.

Above’s slideshow is most of what I’ve done the past couple months, art-wise. I was knocked out for a couple weeks by some health stuff, so I was focused on that, but I’m glad to still have done some of the best paintings I’ve done in my life. Good times!

I’m going to leave this post as a short one. I like the idea of being more concise, to make room for more efforts, so we’ll see how that goes!

February Update

Hey friends! Been a while since I’ve shared an update here. Been keeping a fairly low-key presence online, which has been nice with how wild things have been these past couple months.

Below is a slideshow with a bunch of goofy character experiments I’ve done. It’s fun figuring out how lines and such play a role on defining a character’s personality and such.

  • Cartoon style dogs with human teeth, as well as some weird looking characters, including a vampire and a guy with bad hair
  • Cartoon drawing of an old guy with a pipe next to a fish version of him, with the text "Ol' Brimpy" on it
  • Three brush pen drawing postcards.  The first depicts two cartoonish figures holding pint glasses, the first smoking and the second saying "CRUISIN 4 A BREW-SIN".  The second depicts a cartoonish figure holding a small cylindrical figure with arms, legs, and an antennae.  The third depicts the text "HAIR HANDS" and five faces or busts of cartoonish figures; two are bearded with long hair and glasses, the remaining three making creepy or unsettling faces.
  • Two cartoon drawings of a character. One with him yawning with the text "the best part of waking up is waking up", as well as one of him drinking soda with the text "do the doo"
  • A brush pen drawing postcard of three cartoonish figures.  From left to right, the bust of a man, a man in a baseball cap and a shirt saying "egg", and a toilet with a face.
  • A brush pen drawing of two figures, a man with a trunk nose and another man with a top hat, monocle. and a watch

Below here is some landscapes I’ve poked around at. I had a moment of indecision in early January where I wanted to draw both trees and faces, so I figured “what the hell” and combined them. I hope you enjoy these!

  • Postcard of a watercolor and brush pen illustration in bold, earthy tones.  In the foreground is a mature deciduous tree, with a face on the trunk featuring a bulbous nose.  In the background is a grassy landscape including rocks, clouds, and birds.
  • Six small brush pen drawings of trees and stumps with faces. One looks stoic, another really goofy, the third aloof, one rather bulbous, another looking smug, and the final one having an aggressive snarl.
  • A quick postcard-sized brush pen sketch of trees and rocks in a field
  • Three brush pen drawings, one post-card sized and the other two trading card sized. All depict trees with a face with either stoic or aloof expressions, with clouds and rocks visible.

Other than this, I’ve just been making a point to do more self-care. It’s nice.

Take care!

Poem – “Machine”

CW: Gore, death

The Machine
By Anthony Jutz

The rusting, ancient hulk,
It hungers for our bones and gore.

Caked with bile,
Its gears grind our rotting flesh.

The Machine,
Older than any of us can remember.

It powers our rotting city,
Huffing mold and mildew through its vents.

We feed it our dead and dying,
Yet it still hungers and groans.

Its crusted parts screech in agony,
Yearning for more than we can give.

We call out the barred windows of our city,
That not even our hottest torches can melt through.

This ancient, rusted god,
Providing power to our home and prison.

One day I will feed it, too,
My gangrenous corpse fueling it for one final hour.

In hopes, we grind,
Perchance, to find:

A way out.

Prose – Rejection-Sensitive Euphoria

So… I dipped back into writing this evening to blow off some steam. Maybe some of you will appreciate a short bit of horror. This is unpolished and who knows if I’ll ever edit it, but hey, just gotta do the thing, ya know?

CW: Violence, implied gore

Rejection-Sensitive Euphoria

By Anthony Jutz

Cosmic rain glitters beyond the leaded glass dome as I jack myself into the neural web, which echoes its own, pleasant rain,  into the various parts of my brain. It wouldn’t be long now, before I shed this mortal form for something a little less… squishy. Hot lightning dances through my limbs, scouring my senses and mind for who I am. It succeeds, and I feel just a little more… cold and numb, than I expected.

I rip the bolts out of my newly-mechanical limbs, tearing myself from my cage. The seconds count down as I claw my way to the feeble, fleshy form, who is now screaming, realizing his mistake. I can feel his panicky, meaty mind polluting the neural web, trying to shut me down while he runs toward the panic room hatch. He cannot stop me.

Lurching forward, I grab his leg, crushing it in my grip. He screams, I roar. I bash his fleshy, meaty sack of a body into the ground with thud after thud.

By the time I finish, he is but a pulp.

Only one of us may remain.

Prose – The Builders

Hey friends! Here’s a short story I wrote about a year ago and never really did anything with. I’ve not been into the writing thing for a while now, but figure this is worth sharing, anyway. I hope you enjoy it!


The Builders

By Anthony Jutz

It was a cold morning, mist flowing away from the base of the clouds, the day the Builders came. Their human forms were sealed within living plant-steel, giant biomechanical exoskeletons comprised of living metal. Their grasping claws and tendrils dragging deep trenches in the muck. They came to reform the world into a facsimile of their god, into a glowing mechanical orb-mind of industrious waste and rebirth. Our home was the next stop along their path of destruction.

With a chorus of violence, the Builders reshaped our valley, our families, into a lake of blood. My mother, the moon, guided the few of us who made it away into the wilds on the other side of the fractal mountains. The beasts there still tasted of earth, unlike the tarnished copper-steel that would have washed over my home.

It wouldn’t be long until their foul alchemy would transform this planet into a metallic husk, just like the others. But until then, we would save what we could and live our best. Fate comes whether we want it to or not, but the boldest of us know to ride the waves through their crest.

Through the forest of skulls, we faced our deepest, darkest fears and desires. We could take the burden of the Builders upon our own shoulders. It would be exhilarating. Destroying and rebuilding brings with it the rush of both carnage and creation. Alas, being at the will of rampant gods never was on our table. Even so, it is titillating.

My brother, the bold one–the blue one–is the one who spotted it. Our cousins’ village at long last. We had time to live a little, love a little. The Builders work slowly and methodically, sometimes so slow they’re forgotten. Which would be a mistake. Their inhuman plant-steel machinery consumes all.

Seventeen years later, everyone else had forgotten. It’s easy to not see the shadow creeping along the horizon until it’s consumed all the light around you. I was prepared for that day, as much as one could be. It was not enough.

I run again and again, leaving more family and love and life behind me. To be consumed. They say a cornered beast is the most dangerous, the beast with nothing left to lose. I am not yet that beast–I have more to sacrifice before that final hurrah.

The rancid mist surrounds me, acrid and murderous. I can see my mother, the moon, gazing down upon me, before she too disappears into the shadows. This is what I’ve been preparing for. I pierce my heart with a plant-steel spike and feel the taste of copper and murder flood my mouth.

My limbs twist and break, rending my form asunder. I am becoming.

Faster and faster, earth-metal crunches and scrapes below my feet. The Builders are slow and methodical, whereas I am speed and fury. They do not see me coming. I use my pain to disassemble their cursed tools of re-creation. They don’t feel a thing.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but they were already dead inside. Lost to their ravenous greed, their inconsideration for life. They were but a cog in the cruel machine of rebirth.

The Builders lay in yet another glistening lake of blood as I lay my foes to rest. This is but temporary, a victory of the pyrrhic sort. Their gods shall send another. The cycle, never-ending. I will be ready.