FindChaos: The Official Blog of A. Stiffler

Professional illustrator, comic artist, graphic designer and avid birder. Stuff I draw and other nonsense.
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ChaosLife: Magical Moniker

Like you didn’t expect us to be in that House.

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From Zero to Bad in 60 Seconds.

My hands are just kitten pillows, now. At least he picked the left this time.

Asker findchaos Asks:
The world is about to be destroyed by evil forces, and it's up to you and one fictional character to stop the coming apocalypse. Who/what do you pick?
findchaos findchaos Said:

alexquintas:

 always

I concede that this is the only right answer. Also, one kickass drawing of Xena.

whiskeybrite:

Some vintage fun! I can’t remember the year this is from, maybe FindChaos will know. To this day as a living breathing adult(ish) I have no idea how I talked my Mother into not only allowing my internet friend from another state come stay with us for a weekend, but she also went to go pick her up. IT WAS THE BEST THOUGH. This is a picture that FindChaos drew in my sketchbook. I forget the exact context but it was something along the lines of us scaring children while swinging at a nearby park. Also, we both had a thing for unfortunate sunglasses.

Oh my god, it’s a double-whammy of nostalgia and old art.

I remember that trip so damned well, it really was the best! I also remember silently questioning the fact that my family was okay with me hopping in a car with complete strangers to go across state lines for days on end. Were the early-2000s nothing but dubious parenting? I’m starting to think so. At least it made for some awesome times!

I picked the wrong shoes to go hiking to that mall, though.

Asker Anonymous Asks:
Question inspired by recent photos: Does/did your hair curl when it's longer? Those photos make it look like it would curl.
findchaos findchaos Said:

Yes, yes it does.

Just last New Years, only about 4 inches long:

That isn’t even its final form.

Heh heh heh.
Also, wtf were we doing? “Let’s do the Titanic thing on a cliff. It’s a relationship trust building exercise.”

Heh heh heh.

Also, wtf were we doing? “Let’s do the Titanic thing on a cliff. It’s a relationship trust building exercise.”

Oh my god, I found a picture of us from 3 months after we met in person. It’s from our trip to Salem, MA, where we would get married 7 years later.
Hey.
Hey, whowasntthere.
Hey.
You’re hot.
And I’m sorry about my choices in sunglasses.

Oh my god, I found a picture of us from 3 months after we met in person. It’s from our trip to Salem, MA, where we would get married 7 years later.

Hey.

Hey, whowasntthere.

Hey.

You’re hot.

And I’m sorry about my choices in sunglasses.

Asker espeoniage Asks:
Will you please tell us more stories about you and Stiffler??? They brighten my day!
findchaos findchaos Said:

whowasntthere:

Here’s a bright one for you, if a bit long.

—————————————

In 2003, our city of Columbus started an interesting art-creation festival called “Via Colori.” Basically, a lot of artists got together and used sidewalk chalk to create giant murals on pavement. Since this was the first year they were set to do this, they chose a newly built road through the Arts District — a giant stretch that’s now part of I-670.

We quickly snagged a Sponsorship and had a plan to create a tiny mural with a few other people. On the day of the festival, we headed down early in our shorts and tank-tops, carrying almost nothing else. At the start of the festival, we were handed our badges, our placard number/name, two giant boxes of chalk (and one box of white/black chalk) and two bottles of water. We walked to our designated space on the black asphalt only to see the lines of our square clearly marked out — it was enormous — a generous 10x10. Apparently, our Sponsor decided we needed a lot of room.

So, we set about marking it into four large quadrants and Stiffler sketched out the initial outlines to our plan — the four seasons/elements, represented by people/ideas. Then we waited for the rest of our group to show up. They never did.

It was the middle of September and we were on black pavement on a clear, sunny day. Basically: it was like trying to draw on Hell’s canvas, in a much larger space than we had anticipated, with none of our group coming to our rescue. We decided “Fuck it, let’s do this.”

Stiffler and I chalked the motherfucking shit out of that square of pavement. We didn’t have hats, sunscreen, knee pads, chairs, anything that most people brought — we simply sat on the hot blacktop and colored away for hours and hours. By the middle of the day, we were exhausted and completely covered in sweat and chalk — which, by then, was smeared all over our mostly-exposed bodies. Our faces were a mixture of black, purple and bright pink bursts of color from wiping our sweat away. Our hands and up to our elbows were completely saturated without any hope of seeing our skin. And we were hungry and vegan at the time.

So, we packed up our chalk, and walking in what was surely heat-exhaustion-fueled desperation, made it to our favorite pub in the area. We quickly retreated to our usual booth and slumped down in the squeaky leather, relishing the air conditioning. 

The waitress very slowly walked over, looking as if she was on an undercover TV production. She handed us the menus then, amazingly, didn’t say a word about our colorful state. She simply rattled off the specials and very gently mentioned that the bathroom was down the hall if we needed to… “freshen up.”

We both knew that a pub bathroom wasn’t going to cut it (and would only be work for the poor people cleaning up), so we spent the next hour eating our Hummus Veggie Plate in abject silence, only breaking off in our dehydrated disillusion to occasionally laugh loudly at each other as another carrot was temporarily dyed black by our hands. The other patrons of the pub, and the ones that walked in after, just stared at us in horror. 

As we were counting out our very large tip for the poor waitress, she came by with two pints of beer and plonked them down. Some sweet wishing-to-remain-anonymous man had bought us (underage at the time) both beers, which we downed eagerly before staggering back to the festival to finish our mural. 

We talked about giving up on it or just coming back the next day to finish it, but as we neared our little patch of insanity, we saw someone had left several objects for us. A small, orange plastic cat, a flower and a note stuck to our plastic mural placard that simply read “MAGICAL.”

We worked the rest of the day on that damned mural, returned home covered in even more chalk, and jumped in a cold shower together to wash away a magical day spent creating together. Then, we fell into bed to create a little private magic. Not even coloring a stretch of boiling interstate can keep us from canoodling.

I still regret that we didn’t take photos of our completely ridiculous appearances in the pub. Essentially, this:

But far more colorful.

antipahtico:

Tree Of Life ~ Ignacio De Ries 1653

Jesus regrets ringing that dinner bell now.

(via magicksquares)

I could seriously listen to stories about your guy's life forever, not to sound creepy or anything.
findchaos findchaos Said:

whowasntthere:

Haha, thank you, not creepy at all, but altogether flattering!

Here’s a random one for you:

—————————————————-

I started living with Stiffler shortly after we first met in Columbus. 

Columbus was settled largely by Germans, whose homes are efficient to a fault but also completely fucking insane. There were 7 beautiful, wide wooden stairs in a closet that led to… nothing. The window of Stiffler’s front door had a giant leaded-glass spiderweb in it. The windows had built-in storm casement glass that was thick as an old soda bottle bottom. The back door had a heavier door preceding it, with the outer-letting door having a permanent key sticking from its lock so it could only be latched from the inside.

Stiffler left me alone while they went to work one day (a part-time office job, so only about 4 total hours) and I decided to explore the neighborhood a bit. I got ready, put some money in my pocket and started heading out with the front-door key Stiffler had given me.

I hadn’t anticipated the front door lock. It had a design that was akin to Hellraiser’s Puzzle Box, with a key stuck in it like the back door, but several other notches, locks and nodes, and a fucking thing that pointed to “YES” and “NO” on the main lock inexplicably. I struggled for an HOUR with that goddamn contraption, trying every combination I could think of, every lock (about 4 in total) on that door and turning the doorknob until my hand was red.

Already being highly paranoid and prone to panic attacks, I collapsed on the floor. That’s where Stiffler found me when they returned home. We immediately went out for dinner. 

We laugh about it now, but fucking German efficiency is a hell of a thing. I was never completely able to figure out that goddamn door. 

I loved that lock, yet still feel bad about that particular day. I really should’ve left detailed instructions.

The beauty of that lock was: even if someone had a key that fit it, you could, from the inside, turn the lock to “No” with your own key and no one could open it from outside, key or not. It was beautifully paranoid and brilliant.

That house was weird as hell, though. I’d like to believe the locks were why there were massive crowbar marks from an unsuccessful escape out the back door from the inside, but that lock wasn’t a complicated or key-centric one. I guess we’ll never know what exactly went down there.

Ah, childhood…

Asker Anonymous Asks:
I'm not sure if you've been asked this ((and if it is a repeat, sorry bout that I didn't see it on your blog)) but what's your opinion on sex workers IE Escorts, Porn actresses, Cam models, Etc?
findchaos findchaos Said:

image

(With the obvious caveat that they’re doing it willingly.)