What’s Inside a Girl?
An experiment in fashion illustration
Did this illo for the Dallas Observer a couple years ago (although it didn’t make it into the final spread of images). But this seems particularly relevant today
Some recent illustrations I made for an organization called Promundo, which promotes gender equality and women’s health across the globe. This series is for a campaign in Liberia.
These illustrations were created for and are owned by Promundo-US. They can not be used or reproduced without the express written consent of an authorized delegate of Promundo-US.
The Pig Farmer
This illustration is based on the following profile of one New York City taxi driver written by the astute Matt Maragno.
Michael is a ball of chaotic energy. Everything about him is loud and explosive. Where ever he goes he assaults all of the senses. He’s constantly taking pictures with his expensive camera with a flash so bright it makes children cry, he talks loud in a distractingly broken English, and he installed one of those loud beeping notifications that 18 wheelers have on his yellow taxi SUV. It’s not regulation and I don’t think he cares about safety; he just likes the noise that it makes. He constantly smells like he ate a garlic and pork sandwich with a pint of vodka, went to sleep in whatever he was wearing, woke up without showering or brushing his teeth and went off to start a new day. Passengers who we’ve put in his cab have come back to the hotel and specifically asked not to use him again because of the smell. He has 3 or 4 gold teeth. He’s constantly excited, the type of guy who leaves scratches on your body after greeting you. He’s either extremely happy to see you, handing out Russian bootleg Ferrero Rochers, pastries from a bakery in Sheep’s Head Bay and fruit or very angry and screaming curses in broken English and Russian. He’s illogical. When other taxi drivers we use go on vacation they’ll call us when they get back to remind us they’re back in town. When he goes on vacation he’ll come back, wait a week, then drive by the hotel glaring at us and calling us faggots for not calling him. He’s yelled at us on numerous occasions, “Never call me again! Delete my number immediately!” only to come back a few days later yelling at us again for not calling him. He’s constantly making fun of Jewish people and I thought forever that he was the most anti-Semitic person I’d ever met in my life until I discovered that he was Jewish and makes regular trips to Israel. He’s extremely old fashioned and thinks that oral sex is gay or as he puts is “pederast shit”. He’s got a lot of money he owns three yellow taxi medallions which cost about $1,000,000 a piece. The other yellow taxi drivers all seem to hate him. The other Russians and Ukrainians call him “Svino Pas” which means pig farmer in Russian. He takes great glee in antagonizing them, photographing them and photo shopping the photos with bizarre homoerotic themes. Him and the several other taxi drivers have taken each other to court for slander. He set up false Craig’s list sites requesting gay sex for his rivals and counter measures were made in retaliation. It’s all very complicated and was only explained to me in whispered broken English by a guy named Igor. The hotel has tried to ban us from using him on many occasions. He went from being banned from the bathroom, to the lobby, to the foyer to the street to not being allowed to park on the same block as the hotel. We still call him and still use him. Is it the $12 he gives for every JFK and Newark? Is it the fact that he always shows up early for any job? That’s definitely part of it but that’s not the whole story. Life can be boring, my job can be repetitive. In a city as cantankerous as NYC it’s hard to find a distraction that never gets old and somehow we’ve found it in this assault of an obnoxious human being we call Michael.
Check out my illustrations in the New York Observer for a Brooklyn dating guide written by Kate Mooney!
Time Out For Chris Brown
Party Girl 2