NATE'S REVIEW Thank you. Thank you, Silas Toball. Thank you for presenting us, the internet audience, with Nebel Frau (which, for those of you who are not in the know, is german for "Shaved Frau"). The importance of this piece is large, maybe not at first glance, but it is. At first glance you might only pick up on the dreamy, surrealistic elements. "Is this Shaved Frau standing ON some sort of stream? A stream that is born of her own hair? Impossible!" you might say. "Is this Shaved Frau, though backlit by the moon or sun or some other celestial-but-not-quite-perfect-hand-drawn-circle-thing, floating thru a muted forest yet she is still completely devoid of shadow and dimension?" you might ponder. Yes. And yes. Both are true and both are so surrealistic it makes my left nut, which is slightly larger than my right, hurt. That first glance was painful, but I still decided to go back for sloppy seconds. I mean, there had to be more to this work then the few basic flaws that jumped out faster than a native Sumatran who was swimming in the Indian Ocean on December 26th...right? So what I found the second time around, besides the importance, was that this man-faced ghostly chick would probably be pretty cool if I were to meet her on the street. I mean, besides the fact that she is only wearing a few pieces of jewelry, she is A) shaved, B) floating and/or walking on water, and C) she is posed in some sort of ritualistic sex-based form. What? You don't see it? Look again. She totally wants it...and she wants it in the outdoors. And all of that is definitely cool in my book. Okay, now that my stiff-on is gone, I can get back to my point. Which is that there is some grander importance to this picture. What Silas has done here is help expose, as if it needed any help, the lives and careers of two of the most talented, influential artists of all time. Comic Writer-Artist-Creator Will Eisner, and legendary Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine and Book Illustrator Frank Kelly Freas, both of whom have recently passed on. Though their work will live on forever, both of these men proved to be mortal. They leave behind so much amazing work that I believe we will forever be influenced by their material. Some of us, like Silas Toball, may even be influenced enough to go ahead and drop a bomb like this on the internet-using public. See, you can do a web search for Fantasy Art, and Toball may come up in the same find as Freas. I know...no words can capture the sickness of that fact. And Mr. Toball isn't the only guilty one. For every Eisner there is an uncountable number of Toballs. For every Freas there is an uncountable number of "artists" that think they are good because they touched a pencil to paper, or learned a new trick in the latest art software. Well, as Nebel Frau shows us, it takes a lot more than a nice rack, a shaved beaver and some river-hair to make good art. So here's to you, Silas Toball, and all of your kind as well. But more importantly, here's to you Mr. Eisner and Mr. Freas. Will Eisner (1917-2005) Frank Kelly Freas (1922-2005) Nate January 2005	NebelFrau by Silas Toball	PAUL'S REVIEW 12.30.04 11:00am Hmmm, a simple enough piece… A Nymph dances in the forest while her hair flows elegantly around her body, spinning into ghostly strands that wind around her until it turns into a shallow pool in which she may cool her feet. At the top of her head rests a small crown, suggesting she may be royalty. Scan down a little further and you see the extravagant piece of jewelry adorning her neck. Scan down a little further and, GOOD GOD, look at that right nipple!!! Now I’ve seen lots of breasts in my life. I’ve seen nipples that point straight ahead. I’ve seen nipples that point south. I’ve even seen sets of tits where the woman’s right one points, from the viewer’s perspective, southwest and the left one southeast. But I have never seen a nipple point due west. 12.31.04 10:00pm It’s hard to see past that nipple. It’s hypnotic. Like the giant zit on someone’s nose, the piece of lettuce stuck between someone’s front teeth, or the sweet, young ass walking up the stairs in front of you, it is next to impossible to pull your gaze away. I have been staring at this art for over 30 hours and am mesmerized by that nipple. I can’t look away. But I must if I want to get to the bottom of the mystery that is “Nebelfrau”. 1.3.05 4:00am Silas Toball, you sly bastard. After five sleepless nights I’ve got it! You thought you could sneak this one past us. Sure, you wanted to pass off this drab, lifeless work as perhaps a European salad dressing or wine label. To the more critical maybe the piece was simply a way to get your pug-nosed neighbor to pose nude for you. But I see more. I see her left hand raised, eclipsing the moon. Again, to the casual observer this is just part of her pose. Silas wants her to appear ethereal, majestic, distracting the viewer from the fact that her left hand is raised at a right angle, which we all know is the American Transportation Association’s signal for a right hand turn. Or from the viewer’s perspective, west! You see where I’m going with this, right? Silas wants us to turn left. Something lies to the west of this illustration. I see the tree branch in the foreground leaking in from the west. All the clues lead me to believe that some treasure lies beneath this tree. I have solved the mystery of the “Nebelfrau”! But what is the treasure that lies buried to the west? My hope would be that Silas is hiding a cache of money, and that I’ve stumbled upon the clues leading to it. But I’m guessing Silas isn’t rich, as very few fantasy artists are. What other valuables would Silas want to hide? What “treasure” is he leading us to? I have a guess. I think it’s likely that, buried beneath the tree, one would find a coffer filled with more of Silas’ horrible fantasy art. Was it worth it? Five sleepless nights, drenched in a cold sweat, teetering on the brink of sanity, all to solve this mystery. Was it worth it? Take a look at the “Nebelfrau”. What do you think? Was it worth it? No fucking way. I’m going to sleep…. Paul January 2005

ALEX'S REVIEW Hating the French used to be the exclusive province of those who had some actual contact with them. An excellent example is the American tourist who upon traveling to France discovered that most of the French are unabashedly unapologetic about not speaking English. Fucking frogs. Now that the French have been dubbed “freedom haters,” every Nascar fan with a weltanschauung sophisticated enough to be aware that there even is a county named France hates them with a passion usually reserved for Jeff Gordon. Personally, this raises France’s esteem fractionally in my eyes. However, it is not enough to overcome centuries of sucking. Consider the ill-fated Paris Commune. Now, those were the days. Paris surrounded by the Prussian army while Parisians staved off starvation by eating the animals in the Paris Zoo. Perhaps the genesis of French’s Mustard? – I wonder. Anyway, let’s now consider France’s most recent contribution to the general weal– the subject of this month’s art review. I realize that breaking this thing down is a bit like scanning Pauly Shore’s diary for pith, but what the hell. Ah, the classic vagina first attack pose. God bless you Matrix, you have enriched our lives in so many ways. “Tekwa” radiates menace and power. I mean wow – look at the size of those hoots! And that wand, did she roll the fairy godmother from the Rocky and Bullwinkle show for that beauty? This work accurately represents the classic struggle for fantasy art fans anytime taking in such a work– is it art, or should I rub? I mean, a chick with big cans and several sets of wings is nice, but don’t let the jugs distract you from other elements of this peach. For example, don’t overlook the stars. Every art hack knows that stars can be used to convey a sense of the ethereal. Properly done, stars can impart a magic or dreamlike quality to the work. On the other hand, we have “Tekwa.” What Fee is trying to say is – Do you see the stars, I mean do you see the fucking stars! Subtle Fee, subtle. In the end, I have to grudgingly give this thing a grade of “fair” because it does contain that element which is most basic to all fantasy art – that sophomoric sexual innuendo beaten to death by pop music. Yes, like “save a horse, ride a cowboy” this piece of shit gives ‘em what they want – the knowledge that it is okay to give/receive a blowjob in a bathroom stall while trying not to puke up that Taco Bell/Smirnoff Ice combo. Alex February 2005	Tekwa by Fee Bleue	NUTSON'S REVIEW If there is one thing I cannot stand, it is fantasy art that is hard to make fun of. So it is with Tekwa (a name I even sort of like), by Fee Bleue (another name I kind of dig). It’s a lot more fun when we have a shitty piece of art to contend with, but I rather like Tekwa. Slouch back into that chair and I’ll tell you why. First, Tekwa pays homage to some incredible art that came before it. The star motif has been around forever, but occasionally an artist can massage it in a new way to make it meaningful. Take for instance, ‘Star’ by Jean (Hans) Arp from around 1944… Recognize that shape from somewhere? It’s a dead ringer for Tekwa. The left leg is pulled up slightly, and arms outstretched. And notice how Tekwa has no real muscle tone to speak of. Same with Arp’s star – just a soft, doughy, cosmic mass. It’s so smooth and supple. Don’t you want to touch it? Of course you do. Tekwa also pays homage to the crane position made famous by the Karate Kid, but that’s kind of stupid. I mean Hilary Swank was ‘The Next Karate Kid’ and now she has sold out to make some stupid movie with that guy who rode around in a semi-truck buttfucking an orangutan and that black guy from Robin Hood. She robbed us of ever knowing if Mr. Miagi could heal a double breast bruise with the clappy hand technique. She robbed us of knowing what became of Johnny. And what about the ‘get him a body bag’ guy – I bet he’s been patiently waiting in some dark dojo somewhere for ‘the next karate kid’ – and imagine his surprise when it is a girl! Thanks for being a totally selfish bitch Hillary. I hate you. Don’t even bother to answer my letters. You’re so stupid and stuck up. So far we know Tekwa has classic roots and we want to touch it. A perfect 2-for2 in the fantasy art world. Here comes number three. You’ve already learned what the golden triangle is in the Gamehole fantasy art reviews (patent pending (except in Canada (except in Ottawa))), brought to you by refreshing Coors Light. We love symmetry and appropriate ratios. Take Tekwa. You can draw a nice star if you use the elbows, right knee, left foot and the top of her head as anchor points. Go ahead, print it out and try it. Pretty cool huh. Just as important as the symmetry is the fact that the center, or heart, of the star forms a perfect frame for Tekwa’s sweet rack. That’s no accident folks. That’s fuckin’ art. You can’t learn that shit from that old man on TV who promises to make you into an artist if you can trace a turtle. That’s real community college art there – extra fancy. Let’s review. Classic roots, want to touch it, symmetry, frames the boobs. What else is accentuated? Fee uses another classic artist’s tool by having Tekwa point her wand at her giney. You’re eyes are naturally draw to the heart of the star, but once they explore, you find the wand, and are led back to the giney. This might quite possibly be the most perfect piece of fantasy art ever created (that Soroyama one of the woman on the horse is pretty cool though, and munch-o-tron is right there). It reminds us all that it’s ok to focus on the boobs – even linger there. But eventually you’re going to wander, drop one in the hair, maybe in an eye as a tribute to our dear dead friend Andy, who knows, maybe you’re an elbow guy, whatever, eventually you’ll find your way home to the giney, and it will all be ok. Sweet, sweet refuge in the harbor of lost dreams, sick days and cab fares. Usually fantasy art tries to be something it cannot. It tries to be ‘real’ art. It tries to be porn. It tries to make us think it isn’t about tits and gineys. Not so with Tekwa. If she were laying in some wheat field on a blanket instead of in space with wings, this could be a facsimile of almost every piece of crappy French art from the 19th century. Chicks are hot. Impossibly hot ones are even hotter. Fee hasn’t tried to do more than possible. This piece is about stars, boobs, and giney. That’s pretty fucking cool for a piece of fantasy art clearly knocked out on a Mac in some Paris flat. How much do I like this piece of art? I’m going to order a print if I can get one. And if I can and when I do, I’m going to mass produce it (sorry Fee) and iron it on the back of every one who passes in front of my house or office. Sure, some people will probably get burned by the iron. And yes, some people might be beaten to death when I defend myself, but Tekwa is worth it. Imagine you’re laying in bed one night. You had a really boring day. You still have the taste of toothpaste in your mouth. You’re debating in your own mind whether or not to turn the TV on or try to go to sleep. You close your eyes for a moment, and Tekwa appears at the foot of your bed. You notice her gigantic yummy boobs. Her harmless looking wand directing traffic to the tunnel. You can bet your ass she smells better than your apartment – maybe even like blueberry waffles. You can also bet she wants to hear all about your day while she sits in your lap. Tekwa loves you so much. Valentine’s Day is right around the corner – you begin to think about what to get her – then you realize she really doesn’t need anything except another ice cold Coors Light. That sounds pretty damn nice doesn’t it? Tekwa might only be an image on a canvas (or more likely regular ass paper), but that feeling can be yours. So grab hold of a six or twelve pack of the Silver Bullet, and make Tekwa come alive! God bless you Adolph. Coors. Nutson February 2005

ALBERT'S REVIEW At the beginning of February, Anne Marie emailed me to ask if I had any ideas as to what to review. I told her that I didn’t, and that she should just go ahead and pick out a picture and send it to me. Two and a half weeks later I still hadn’t seen any art to review from Anne Marie and I wanted to get this thing over with. So, I just kind of grabbed the first thing I saw. This was a somewhat regrettable decision. Basically all we have here is some overweight hump in a dick hat who looks like he’s trying to take a dump. Not a lot to discuss. If only Anne Marie had followed through and picked out a piece of art like she said she was going to, none of this would be happening. Women. This piece, “Rickster,” was done by some guy named Henning. Remember Dan Henning? He used to coach the San Diego Chargers in the late 80s. Man, did he suck. Although in general, the Chargers for the most part always suck. There was that one time they went to the Super Bowl and the Niners scored close to 50 on them. That must have really sucked for Junior Seau and his defense. I hate Junior Seau. He’s got that really dumb hair that looks like it’s permed and that fucking moustache. There are very few guys who can pull of the combo perm and moustache look. Most of them who can spend their time in bars called the “Backdoor Lounge,” “Flex,” and “The Everhard Baths.” The other thing I hate about Junior Seau is that he’s got that line of clothing named “Say-Ow.” Get it? It’s pronounced like his last name, but he’s also a football player so he hits people hard for a living. And they say “ow.” Puns. Puns are stupid. People who tell puns are dumb, people who talk in puns are dumb, and football players with permed hair and moustaches who name their clothing lines puns are the dumbest of all. So is wordplay in general. You know, some people think things like this are funny: "The doctor had to remove my left ventricle," said Tom half-heartedly.” Yeah, that’s great. Tell me another one. Wordplay. Foreplay is different than wordplay, but it’s spelled similarly. I don’t completely understand foreplay either. From what I’ve heard, chicks really dig it though. Whatever. Chicks can be a pain in the ass. Remember how Anne Marie told me she was going to find a picture to review and she never did? So now I have to write about this “Rickster” one by Henning. Not Dan Henning, but some other Henning who’s a fantasy artist and sucks equally as much. Women. Albert February 2005	Rickster by Henning	ANN MARIE'S REVIEW “Rickster” A screenplay Act I – Scene I A woman (Carole) kneels in a flowerbed in a backyard garden in a small Mid-western town. It is early fall, but the evening air is still hot, and her flowered housecoat clings to her plump form. She is frowning, weeding around her petunias. A second woman (Linda) approaches from behind. She is wearing cut-off jean shorts and a black swimsuit top. She is carrying an insulated coffee mug bearing the phrase “W Stands for Women” from which she sips iced White Zinfandel. Her lipstick stains the rim of the mug. Both women are in their 50s. Carole’s frown deepens when she hears her neighbor approach, but she pretends to ignore her until Linda finally breaks the silence. Linda: Howdy neighbor!! Haven’t seen you out in a while. How’s it hanging? Did you see Harry and June’s new camper? Carole: Yes. How are you, Linda? Linda: Finer than a frog’s hair split two ways. Did you hear the Elliots are going through the Big D? I heard she’s been getting a little too close to the principal at the High School. You know, Karl Stephens whose wife passed last summer. You remember, don’t you? Carole nods, and continues pulling weeds. Linda: Say, isn’t that your Ruthric’s van parked in the garage? I thought he was going to Cincinnati to take that acting class. Carole finally turns and faces Linda, a smile plastered on her face. Carole: He hasn’t left yet, but he will as soon as he’s done re-inventing the McDonald’s Corporation. Such a smart boy. Linda: I thought he was working at Happy Joe’s. Carole: No, it was Godfather’s. But he already re-invented them. Did you know he had the highest sales in the district last month? Linda: What ever happened between him and that Becky Johnson? She was real pretty in the face. I thought I saw her out with the Henderson boy last week. Carole: Oh, you know how young boys are. Ruthric’s too young to settle down. Besides, she had that limp. Linda: He’s 36, Carole. Don’t you want to be a grandma soon? Carole: Oh, there’s plenty of time for that. He doesn’t have much time for girls, what with volunteering down at St. Stephen’s Youth Center and writing his stories. Linda: Uh huh. Suddenly a screen door screeches open, and a tall, fleshy man (Ruthric) emerges. He is wearing a pointed leather cap, a green tunic, and white brief underpants. He has an angry red pimple in the middle of his left thigh and he’s carrying a length of string. Ruthric: Mother!! You’ll have to hurry if we’re going to play Checkers again before we go to the Awakening Session. Have you seen my umbrella? Because I’ve used the last of my Marshmallow Peeps. Good day, Mrs. Banetti. He nods to Linda and turns to go back in the house. He pauses for a moment and then turns again to the two women. Ruthric: By the way, Mrs. Banetti, beware the Ides of March. So begins “Rickster” starring: Ruthric as Himself Nutson as Carole One of the ladies from the Woodman’s Photo Lab as Linda Banetti 8-Ball as Karl Stephens Tracy Lords as Mrs. Elliot and Hahnjy as the janitor who has it all, only to lose everything and find true love. Now that my art review’s written, let’s all go out for frosty chocolate milkshakes. Ann Marie February 2005

NATRIX'S REVIEW The Norse Woman – An image of bravery…this is what I love about chicks with swords…they are so damn brave. A chick with a sword is ready to take on anything…whether it be a new executive job, an abusive boyfriend, or a mob of molesters behind the local Open Pantry. Chicks with swords just flat out kick ass. And by sword I mean sword, not cock. I’m not talking about chicks with “swords” here…and I know what I am talking about because every time I look one of those “chicks” up on the internet I hate it, see. And so here we have Lauge’s Norse Woman, with sword in hand, getting ready to swing at some unseen enemy. Is it the abusive boyfriend? Or the molesters? No, this is some enemy that is so heinous…so horrible…so flat out scary that Lauge could not even render it. The Enemy-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Seen is no doubt what this creature is. He has decided to spare our innocent eyes of the terrors of his mind come true. Or, quite possibly, this unseen beast was just too darn hard to draw so Lauge cut that part of the picture off. Hey…I gotta hand it to Lauge for his honesty. The creature just didn’t stack up to his standard of fantasy art perfection so he decided to save face and just dump it all together. You can’t blame an artist for taking that approach. I mean, stick with what you do well and you will go places…and that is exactly what Lauge is doing. Chicks with swords is definitely his strong suit, not scary monsters, so that is his focus in this piece. You would think that this composition would really be boring and uneventful since it appears to be unfinished. I mean, what the hell is going on here? Why is her sword drawn and in an attack position? Why does she have her mouth gaping with an apparent battle cry? What is she yelling? Is it “Nate, you look so hot in those parachute pants!”. Or is it, “Nate, are you still part of the Anal Security Squad because my anus has been naughty!!” These are some of the questions that ran thru my mind as I first jerked off to Norse Woman. Well…let’s think for a moment…Lauge is such a great artist that he is having us rely on our imagination to finish what he started. Brilliant! If only every fine art student at every fine art college knew of this tactic…I went thru art college and I can tell you things would have been a lot different, see. All those times I tried to turn in a project half finished…well, instead of getting shit grades I could have been riding A’s…my professors would have been applauding me and Magna Cum Lauding me and maybe even throwing those little pickles at me as I walked into class each day…and maybe the hot ones would have accepted my sexual advances , too. But since I am not nearly as gifted as Lauge my grades suffered. Not so bad that I am working at McDonald’s, but not so good that I have a slick office on the 64th floor of a New York City high rise, either. No secretary to grind my coffee beans in one of those little hand held bean grinders. No secretary to bring me that fucking coffee when it is ready. Man I fucking hate coffee. The smell, the taste, the fucking coffee mugs people drink it from. They cradle those things in their hands in the morning like it is some kind of chalice of life. Like they can’t go on to their day without it. Fucking coffee. I hate it. But, back to the task at hand and that task is figuring out what Norse Woman is about to do battle with. Could she be getting ready to strike a mere goblin…or could she be getting ready to do battle with THE LEGENDARY FIVE-HEADED DRAGON TIAMAT!!! I guess will never know... Nice move, Lauge, you have upped the ante and won. Wow. Writing this review was like cutting my own head off with a dull, rusty spoon. It has taken me a long time…and it burns. It is actually still burning even after I have deleted The Norse Woman from my porn folder. The Natrix March 2005	Norse Woman by Lauge Drewes	PAUL'S REVIEW Lauge Drewes clearly has drawn from many sources to come up with his “Norse Woman” depicted here. You can easily see the influence of such famous fantasy artists as Frank Frazetta, Ralph Bakshi, that one dude who did the Dio album covers, and, and, and, … Oh yeah, Mike Judge! Come on Lauge! Tell me that face isn’t Beavis in drag. Perhaps instead of “Norse Woman” the piece should be titled “She-Beavis”. Look, here’s the deal – it’s easy enough to find some piece of stank fantasy art to lob shitbombs at. I mean, there are different forms of stank fantasy art. Some pieces are simply poorly illustrated or painted. Some look great, but are just confusing. But this one’s special because, for the life of me, I cannot find one significant, unique, redeeming thing about this piece that makes it qualify for a stand-alone piece of art. This piece is barely good enough to make up a panel in a comic strip. What inspired Lauge to cast this piece out upon the public? Maybe this is how it went down: Lauge Drewes wakes up on the couch hung over on a Saturday morning after a long night of hard drinking. He grabs a slice of the pizza he left sitting on the counter from the previous night and flips on the tube. He turns to PBS and a giant afro catches his eye. Bob Ross’ Joy of Painting is on, and Bob is explaining to the viewer how to paint landscapes. “And maybe we want a little moss growing on the side of it…. Tap, tap, tap. There we go. Isn’t that a happy little tree?” “Fuck” Lauge says to himself after 15 minutes of viewing, “This dude kicks ass.” He observes for a while longer as Bob finishes the piece. Lauge continues to think, “I could paint that shit. It looks easy. But you know what I’d do? I’d take that shit he painted and I’d throw a bad-ass screaming Norse bitch right in the middle of that fucker, that’s what I’d do…” And so it began for Lauge Drewes… Paul March 2005