FanExpo 2013 and the Art of Sean Chappell
I've been a little busy the last few weeks. FanExpo 2013 has come and gone. I was so pleased to see many familiar faces coming to the table to say hello and add to their collection of ghoulish goodies. I thank you, and my car thanks you since it was in the shop at the start of the convention and I was allowed to get it back because I could pay the mechanic. Just another example of the good your money does when you buy from artists instead of big box stores. I'd mentioned on Facebook that many people don't even break even in Artist Alley, and how your patronage can mean the difference for them to pay their rent or buy their groceries, or make more of the art you love to see. Thank you.
I wanted to share with you the art of Sean Chappell. That's his piece Things That Should Not Be Inside Eggs: The Evolution of Manmade Plantlife.
He's one of the people you'll find in artist alley, and if every cent of mine wasn't earmarked for car repairs, I would have picked up something from his table. His work is detailed, textured and surreal (does that creature have a pumpkin centipede for a head?).
Plus, both he and his wife are lovely, friendly people.
I'll just have to ask Santa to bring me some of his work. Perhaps a copy of The Grim Spectre of Introversion Puts Down His Book Long Enough to Look Perturbed or Hi, My Name is 'Anti-Social'.
There were many dark art and horror gems hidden in Artist Alley this year. Shame the organizers didn't spend the time to put all of us in the same row. In theory we are sorted by genre. In practice, not so much.
For example, behind me was a young woman who made bow ties and hair clips (same thing). I know this because she decided to sit in the middle of the floor with her glue gun and printed fabrics, making the already-too-crowded-aisle impassible when vendors wanted to leave their table. I hate you, bow tie girl, you with your complete lack of common courtesy and your Madam Trash Heap of crap under your table that spilled out across the floor, ensuring you blocked not only where you were sitting and crafting, but the entire length of your table as you mooched electricity off people who paid for it. You are the queen of convention fauxpas, bow tie girl, with your entourage of people behind the table, and I crown you thusly.