Fellas, Can I Get Some Coffee?

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As Peggy walked down the hallways of McCann-Erickson on her first day of work since the merger – with Bert Cooper’s old painting of an octopus pleasuring a lady tucked under one arm – she certainly sent a message. She has come a long way, Peggy Olson. And though it’s hard to say goodbye, I know good things definitely await her.

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concept sketch © Andrea Sparacio via Instagram

The series finale was a good motivator to create some updated art; a follow-up to my 2012’s The Women of Mad Men illustrationsAnd just like the character of Peggy, my illustration style has evolved over the years.

You have to run with this! It’s young! And it’s beautiful! And no one else is going to figure out how to say that about beans.

I was busy on a work deadline this weekend so I couldn’t finish my gouache painting. In the meantime, here are some work in progress pics.

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work in progress © Andrea Sparacio via Instagram

One minute you’re on top of the world, the next minute some secretary’s running you over with a lawn mower.

Farewell, Mad Men! You will be missed.

Alice Neel + The Scatological Thoughts of Kerouac

Alice Neel is one of my favorite figurative artists, so I was excited to see her Drawings and Watercolors 1927-1978 at the David Zwirner gallery last week.

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When I was younger, I bought a grainy VHS copy of Pull My Daisy just for her background cameo (this was pre-internet, which you can now watch for free on Vimeo). Their Bowery loft was exactly how I pictured artists living together in the lower east side back in the 1950’s.

Allen Ginsberg + Gregory Corso drinking beer and reading poetry before breakfast (or as breakfast) with the improvised narration of Jack Kerouac’s voiceover makes me melt:

They turn over their little purple moonlight pages in which their naked doodlings do show secret scatological thought and thats why everybody wants to see it.

In the spirit of throwbacks and freeform, my unfinished sketch of Alice Neel from many years ago,; and in the spirt of National Poetry Month, the exquisite corpse poem that started it all.

pull my daisy / tip my cup all / my doors are open / cut my thoughts / for coconuts / all my eggs are broken / jack my arden / gate my shades / woe my road is spoken / silk my garden / rose my days, now my prayers awaken.