Tag Archives: drawings

Image of the Day: Chuck Jones at Home on Tareco Drive

CJ Photo-1 72 dpi

Although Chuck Jones’ film credits identified him for more
than six decades as a director of Warner Bros. animated pictures, his stature
as a graphic artist is little recognized by the public.  In addition to the trying requirements of any
director unifying story, layouts, animation, music, dialogue, etc. into a
finished pictured, he was also personally instrumental in the graphic styling
of his pictures. 

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Dedicated as he was to animation as the new graphic medium
of his time, Jones had never forgotten that drawing the land and people around
him was imperative to assure new ideas as to shape and color and design.  For many years, he drew and painted the human
figure and the landscape in search for new gesture and new expression.  This study is reflected in the freshness of
his professional work.

Steeped in an awareness of the importance of dramatics,
humor, action and rhythm in telling an animated story, he managed to instill
into his still drawings and paintings these same qualities.

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Although many artists skilled in making still drawings have
enriched animation, seldom has an expert in animation contributed so much to
the great tradition of the still drawing. 
Here, caricature, an essential factor in all great art, has been exploited
on a high level.  Penetrating observation
reveals new and daring aspects of ordinary people and their actions.  Each drawing is a statement of an experience
and a venture into new graphic structure. 
Here, content and form are balanced to insure the intrinsic value of
each drawing and painting as a work of art.

CJ Photo-4 72 dpi 

As a classically trained artist at Chouinard Art Institute
in Los Angeles, Chuck Jones studied numerous techniques from graphite to oil
paint.  Throughout his life he continued
his classic arts education with drawing and painting masters classes; each
contributing to the evolution of his craft. 
He was passionate about drawing and painting, whether it be of the
famous characters he created and loved or a landscape, street scene, or
beautiful rendition of man, woman, or child. 

CJ Photo-5 72 dpi 

In the late 1950’s and early 1960s he had opportunity to
travel Europe with his wife Dorothy. 
During these visits he captured street scenes, whimsical anecdotes, and
memorable experiences through his mastery of the watercolor technique that
stand as some of the most remarkable creations of his extensive career.

CJ Photo-6 72 dpi

These photographs were taken at Chuck Jones' home on Tareco Drive in the Hollywood Hills, circa 1960.  To view art from the Chuck Jones Incognito collection, please click here.  

Image of the Day: Uncle Lynn Talks to a Dead Dog

Excerpt from Chuck Reducks by Chuck Jones

After our good dog Teddy died, we received a long letter from Uncle Lynn.  How he knew of Teddy's death I do not know.  Where he was I do not know.  He was always "off someplace."  We never knew where, and he never said until he brushed by us on his way to someplace else.  He might mention Bakersfield, Kuala Lumpur, Topolobampo, Mozambique, or the Seychelles, or the Dry Tortugas, or even Hollister Drive, which was just one block over from our house on Wadsworth Avenue.

Dear Peggy and Dorothy and Chuck and Dick,

I had a telephone call last night.  "Is this Uncle Lynn?" someone asked.

"Why yes," I said.  "My name is Lynn Martin.  Are you some unregistered nephew?"

"This is Teddy." He sounded a little impatient with me.  "Teddy Jones, Teddy Jones the resident dog of 115 Wadsworth Avenue, Ocean Park, California.  I'm calling long distance."

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"Excuse me," I said.  "I really don't mean to offend you, but I've never heard you talk before–just bark, or whine, or yell at the moon."

"Look who's talking," Teddy sniffed, a really impatient sniff if ever I've heard one.  "Look, Peggy and Dorothy and Chuck and Dick seem to be having a very rough time of it because they think I'm dead."  Hesitate.  "Well, I suppose in a way I am."

I will admit that hearing a dog admit that he was dead was a new experience for me, and not a totally expected one.  "If you're dead," I asked, not being sure of just how you talk to a dead dog, "how come you're calling me?"  There was another irritated pause.  Clearly he was getting very impatient with me.

"Because," he said, in as carefully a controlled voice as I've ever heard from a dog. "Because when you are alive, even if the kids don't know exactly where you are, they know you're someplace. So I just want them to know I may be sort of dead, but I'm still someplace."

"Maybe I should tell them you're in Dog Heaven, Teddy, Maybe to make 'em feel–"

"Oh, don't be silly."  Teddy cleared his throat.  "Look, where are you?"

"Oh no, you don't. We're trying to find out where you are," I barked.

"Hey, I didn't know you could bark."  He sounded impressed with my command of the language.

"Wait just a minute," I said.  "You had to know where I am, or you couldn't have called me on the telephone, right?"

"Boy, you know so little," said Teddy.  "I simply said I called you long distance.  Who said anything about a telephone?  They asked me if I knew where you were, and I said you were someplace else, besides 115 Wadsworth Avenue.  So they dialed someplace else and here I am and here you are."

"Can I call you back?" I asked dazedly.  "Maybe that'll give me a clue."

"Be reasonable," said Teddy. "How can you call me back when neither you nor I know where I am?"

"Oh, come on, give me a clue," I begged desperately.  "For instance, are there other dogs around there?  I've got to tell the kids something."

"Hold it," said Teddy, apparently looking around.  "I did see a pug/schnauzer with wings a minute ago.  The wings could lift the schnauzer part of him off the ground, but the pug part just sort of dragged through the grass bumping into fireplugs."

"Fireplugs?"

"Orchards of them, hundreds of 'em.  Yellow, red, white, striped.  Unfortunately, I don't seem to have to pee anymore.  I strain a lot, but all I get is air.  Perfumed air," he added proudly.

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"Sounds like Dog Heaven to me," I said.  "Are there trees full of lamb chops and stuff like that?"

"You know," Teddy sighed.  "For a fair to upper-middle-class uncle, you do have some weird ideas.  But the reason I call you was Peggy, Dorothy, Chuck, and Dick trust you and will believe anything you say, which in my opinion is carrying the word 'gullible' about as far as it will stretch.  Anyway, gullible or not, they trust you, so I want you to tell them that I'm still their faithful, noble, old dog, and–except for the noble part–that I'm in a place where they can't see me but I can see them, and I'll always be around keeping an eye, an ear, and a nose on them.  Tell them that just because they can't see me doesn't mean I'm not there.  Point out to them that during the day you can't see the lattitudes and you can't really see a star, but they're both stil there.  So get a little poetic and ask them to think of me as 'good-dog,' the good old Teddy, the Dog Star from the horse latitudes, and not to worry, I'll bark the britches off anybody or anything that bothers them.  Just because I bit the dust doesn't mean I can't bite the devils."

That's what he said.  I never did find out exactly where he was, but I did find out where he wasn't–not ever very far from Peggy, Dorothy, Chuck and old Dick Jones.

Sincerely,

Lynn Martin, Uncle at Large

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