clavus

Don't mess with Mr. Fish.

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Ass, gas or grass. Nobody rides for free.

Nancy

how do you come up with this stuff, Clavus?!

Bloody cool concept, though.

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I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why. My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy.
I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.

Jetée

Reminds me of a bad dream I once had; thanks for reviving it.

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As human beings, our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world (that is the myth of the Atomic Age) as in being able to remake ourselves.

—Mohandas K. Gandhi

fightnight

I wish he were around to open my wine for me. I could use the assistance at times.

Snoogans

That's awsesome!

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Internet hint: If someone's asking if what they do is weird, it always is.

doodlebird

is this Mech a big drinker?
...why else would he need a corkscrew at all times?

and i echo the "where does this come from" sentiment.
does your little dude help you dream of these combos?

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xoxo
doodle

clavus

Dude. He drinks like a fish!

How do I come up with these ideas? Mabe it's because I have the heart of a child. (I keep it in a jar on my desk).

Not anoriginal answer. Sorry.

Honestly, like most things I draw, Sushi Mech was sketched while my brain idled. There is no rhyme or reason. It's the kind of thing that stomps across my mental landscape uninvited, but not unwelcome.

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Ass, gas or grass. Nobody rides for free.

little_tippler

That is a great drawing, but oddly enough, it's a lot closer to reality than you think. I had an exhibition in the art gallery I work at with an American artist who made these fishbowl robots, where the movements of the fish in the fishbowl controlled the movement of the robot. No kidding. :hmmm:

Check this out:

http://accad.osu.edu/~rinaldo/

click on it and have a look in "art works" at "Augmented fish reality".

Fact is sometimes stranger than fiction!

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Whether we write or speak or do but look
We are ever unapparent. What we are
Cannot be transfused into word or book.
Our soul from us is infinitely far.
However much we give our thoughts the will
To be our soul and gesture it abroad,
Our hearts are incommunicable still.
In what we show ourselves we are ignored.
The abyss from soul to soul cannot be bridged
By any skill of thought or trick of seeming.
Unto our very selves we are abridged
When we would utter to our thought our being.
We are our dreams of ourselves, souls by gleams,
And each to each other dreams of others' dreams.

Fernando Pessoa, 1918

troit

"Adult Swim" material all the way! NICE!

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I've yet to dephile myself...