Queue the Beastie Boys. Intergalactic frontal lobes all up in your business. You trying to take a dump in private (I hope in private)? Sorry sucka. Intergalactic Intelligence brain sees you. He sees it all. Or he’s a distress beacon. I don’t friggin’ know, who cares?
I HATE DRAWING BRAIN MATTER. AND EYE VEINS. I think I am somewhat of a masochist, though, because lately a lot of my drawings have all that smart tissue and eye tubes in it. It sucks.
This thing was supposed to be easy, but turned out to be the most challenging of the Awful Alphabet dudes yet.
Yo, neon rave color pallet for all my rave friends. Grab your glow sticks. Your pacifiers. GRAB THEM. SWING THEM.
Here’s some process/detail shots. Click any pic to enlarge the SHIT out of it.