Falcon Lords - Falcon Vision

A new Video for Atlanta’s criminally acclaimed quartet, The Falcon Lords.
www.falconlords.com

Burqa #2

One a Day | Dow

Suspicious Stench - Autopilot by Kombo_Ch

Summer-like

Summer-like for an instant the autumn sun bursts out,
And the light through the turning elms is green and clear;
It slants down the path and ragged marigolds glow
Fiery again, last flames of the dying year.

A blue-tit darts with a flash of wings, to feed
Where the coconut hangs on the pear tree over the well;
He digs at the meat like a tiny pickaxe tapping
With his needle-sharp beak as he clings to the swinging shell.

Then he runs up the trunk, sure-footed and sleek like a mouse,
And perches to sun himself; all his body and brain
Exult in the sudden sunlight, gladly believing
That the cold is over and summer is here again.

But I see the umber clouds that drive for the sun,
And a sorrow no argument ever can make away
Goes through my heart as I think of the nearing winter,
And the transient light that gleams like the ghost of May;

And the bird unaware, blessing the summer eternal,
Joyfully labouring, proud in his strength, gay-plumed,
Unaware of the hawk and the snow and the frost-bound nights,
And of his death foredoomed.

George Orwell
Summer-like
1933

Swine Flew: H1N1

A recent vector illustration. Looking to turn this into a short run of tees. Email me if you want to pre-order. Otherwise, just pass it on to your friends much like any good flu.

The Art Critic

The visiting art critic, Pierre Von Woodman, waddled sideways from piece to piece, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He wore a leather waistcoat so red it seemed to have a pulse, some black corduroy pants and a pair of Chuck Taylors baring the phrase “Vive La Revultion!” He spent a good fifteen minutes inspecting the new Kombo™ piece, a 5 minute red ink doodle on a detergent-stained page of note paper. His enlightened interest piqued, he let out an audible “Harumpff” and strode regally backwards for a more distant view. The better to see how it interacted with the pristine white space around it. It’s “ambience” he liked to say, with a Gallic nasal inflection so severe it could easily be mistaken for “Armless Beyonce”. The running joke was that the guy was catastrophically far-sighted and cripplingly embarrassed about it. To the point where he limited himself to one distant stare per art show (1DS/AS). The sad thing was, sometimes, like, he’d back away from a promising close-proximity fuzzy blur only to find out he was looking at a fire extinguisher, or worse yet… a landscape! :O

Flip

Earlier today a group of us went to Flip, a Burger Boutique (their words not mine) a short drive up Howell Mill Rd. Akwardly located across the street from Gordy Tire Company and next to a Salvation Army office, I didn’t know quite what to expect. Indigestible Industrial-Grade Burgers? Free Food? Our Flip (Burger Boutique) experience began in the overflow parking lot across the street where a greasy overall clad man of African descent directed cars to the few available parking spots.

“I hope I don’t have to pay him,” Rahail said as we parked.

The parking attendant made no attempt to siphon monetary compensation from us, but just in case, Rahail, Alex, Nick and I bolted swiftly across Howell Mill Rd. We were a little disappointed not to receive even a single solicitous honk or whistle from the onlooking ladies stuck in lunch traffic. No doubt they were just grateful to be there and witness as we heroically embarked upon our latest culinary adventure (more on Willy’s later).

The Flip (Burger Boutique) building is a bland but clean white cube with a glass facade facing the street. The logo’s a visual pun, literally flipping itself off with an inverted copy of the word ‘Flip’ above a right-side-up version in a red, white and black techy sans serif typeface. The overall effect of this is a misreading as ‘trib flip burger boutique.’ Walking in I also noticed an empty outdoor seating area with Ikea-esque bright orange plastic chairs neatly propped against round white tables.

We barely made it inside the door before we hit the back of the line where more than a dozen people were already waiting to be seated. like us, the bulk of their Flip (Burger Boutique) experience involved managing their tempers as they waited impatiently for grilled sustenance. In total we waited about 45 minutes before we were seated by a professionally attractive hostess. The wait was so brutal I meditatively took note of my surroundings, all the better to blog about them later. Unlike the exterior, the interior design was visually interesting. A waist high partition separated the waiters from the diners, with the reassuring hostess calmly controlling traffic at the head of the line. To her right was a wide bar where day-drinkers sat on stools, happily topping up. Distributed along the wall behind the bar were alternating 40″ mirrors and flat screen displays playing high definition footage of Weezer live in Japan (this later changed to Block Party live somewhere else). On the opposite side of the burger boutique were three special-looking booths featuring seamlessly cushioned walls and ceilings to match the off-white leather seating. The whole space had a tasteful near-white-but-not-quite paint job similar to most art galleries. The far wall was covered in a digital collage of what looked like film stills beneath the ever popular vector swirlies.

There was eye candy aplenty to keep me from bolting, but during a 5 minute stretch of stomach-growling, I gazed longingly through the glass at a Waffle House less than a block away. After grouching to Rahail, I settled in for the final stretch of famished waiting. An anemic, vegan, or regurgitatively inclined white man in a red scarf and black threads meandered about talking to waiters and diners. The other staff included an ethnically ambiguous woman of noticeable grace; a fro-hawked brother in a slightly tighter than necessary white shirt; a spiky gel-haired former high school quarter back; a shiny maroon shirt wearing bro of probable Italian heritage; and two black cotton-shirted Hispanic bus boys. By and large everyone seemed to be having a grand olde time.

Just as my patience was nearing its end, the hostess led us to our seats. We sat at the food bar watching the many burger cooks at work. Going through the menu, I was tempted to order the ‘A5′ burger. A US$30 burger made from Japanese Kobe (A5 rating), foie gras, truffle butter, b&b pickles and red wine syrup. I balked at the expense and instead ordered a US$9 lamburger (green olive relish, cucumber yogurt, raisin ketchup and mint) and a US$4 side of vodka battered onion rings. A faucet ran unchecked into a half-full sink on the other side of the counter. When none of the employees seemed to notice it, I did what any good soul would, I closed it. Rahail elbowed me when he noticed the cooks barehandling the food, but Alex later noted “that’s what they do at fine dining, man.” Our food arrived promptly and I think I found my meal very delicious. Unfortunately, I was too starved to chew, but the tastes, textures and aromas I experienced mid-swallow were nonetheless awesome in range and quality.