Several times a week, I host a live video broadcast of my daily drawing and sketching. It’s called the Sweatshop, and it’s slowly growing in popularity.

Sweatshops are my own personal nighttime open mic drawing lessons, storytellings, and heckling opportunities. I announce the session is starting via my Twitter, and the call to arms is bounced around by viewers as the night goes on. Sometimes I point my cam at a page, sometimes at a Photoshop window, and very occasionally at a canvas. Guests wander into and out of the chatroom, offering wisecracks, critique, and shaggy dog stories. It’s a blast.

10:54 E. Gauger: I have a lot of respect for Batman, but I also think he is a crazy person who should be feared and pitied.
10:54 E. Gauger: The only reason he isn't locked up is because he's rich.

These eccentric little packages are winging their ways to loving owners at this very moment. Thanks to SWEATSHOP patrons for the good times!

The story:
I purchase my fish from various fish mongers, (local fisher gentlemen) they come to my back door with their fresh catch looking to sell. Depending on a number of things, I usually buy. Usually they all have the same types of fish and/or crustaceans.

About 4 years ago on a Friday afternoon I opened my door to a 20 gallon cooler of squirming alive medium sized Octopus. It was glorious! As I was bargaining with the fisherman, he labored to keep them in the cooler, dozens of tentacles slithering over the edge trying to go free, dark sack-like bodies with little eyes peering over the edge, as he unstuck something, others popped up.

When I saw the cooler, I had no idea what I was going to do with them, all I knew was that this is the SPECIAL for the weekend. I had to have them, they’re so fresh and alive! I would make something great in their honor.

As usual I was busy getting ready for dinner, which meant the Octopus had to wait. (I had other things to do before I dealt with them, except they had to be cleaned and eviscerated quickly to avoid spoilage.)

Transferring them quickly to a large plastic food bin with ice (no lid), I then placed the writhing bin on the floor up against a ceramic tiled wall which extends 12 feet to the ceiling in my prep kitchen. After icing down the little guys, they calmed down and barely moved. Planning to prepare them a little later, I returned to my work on the hotline (stove, grill area. The small prep kitchen is in the back and cannot be seen from the hotline). An hour later, I’m open for service, leaving the hotline to my cooks.

*Returning to the prep kitchen I find my wife (She’s the pastry chef), with her back to me, a bowl of tempered chocolate in one hand and a kitchen towel in the other, staring at the tile wall with this blank/surreal look on her face, cocking her head slightly to the side. I didn’t notice what she was staring at until a dark bulbous tentacle mass came into view inching up the wall! Blargh!! HOlyshitwtf!! Octopus moving sideways on the wall, vertically up the wall, horizontally on the floor, leaving thin clear ooze in their wake. Some wedged themselves in corners, under tables, a few others suspended vertically 10 feet up the wall making their great escape! After gathering them up, I’ll never know if I got them all. I paid for them by weight and didn’t do a head count. The following weeks there were no strange smells in the kitchen so I assume I got them all, but I like to think at least one got away.*

station0023
@3liza made a song while you were painting octopus tub. http://bit.ly/3t4lx9 watching you paint motivates me to finish stuff lol

Lorraine test sketch for tomorrow's Dancing Bear Benefit, originally uploaded by vebelfetzer.

The nose is all wrong, but this graceful creature is nonetheless my

friend Lorraine, who has just suffered a grievous accident in which

she fractured her spine. She is a dancer and a model and is now

bedridden, totally unable to support herself. Tomorrow I will be

running a tipjar marathon in which I paint portraits of her all day,

and collect donations on PayPal for her medical bills. Anyone in

their right mind would love a picture of this Frazetta-noir beauty.

The paintings, as well as two $50 gift certificates to Clockwork

Couture, will be awarded to the highest tippers as the day goes on.

BE THERE. SEE THE MAGIC.



Sweatshop: www.ustream.tv/channel/sweatshop

Whitechapel Sweatshop announcement thread: freakangels.com/whitechapel/comments.php?DiscussionID=688...

E. Gauger's blog: elizagauger.com/gibberings/

Thursday the 7th at the X17 Gallery, the very first LIVE SWEATSHOP will feature an entirely new format: the Street Art Assembly Line.

This is a laser-cut stencil of one of my previously-unreleased graffiti art sprays. It is brand new, has never been sold, and tomorrow will be your chance to get an original spray from this stencil on canvas, paper, or the surface of your choosing. Call them "original prints", if you will.

Bring your own surfaces! Stencil is approximately 11 x 17", so make sure your surface is big enough.

Original prints, made to order, while you watch. SWEATSHOP TRIUMPHS AGAIN.

SWEATSHOP 17x17
hosted by the X17 Gallery
619 Western Ave
Seattle, WA
6pm-10pm
bit.ly/17×17

IMPORTANT SWEATSHOP ANNOUNCEMENT.

There's a SWEATSHOP in about eleven hours that is cutting out even more slack between patrons and the artists they feed. I mean, haven't you ever wanted to just dangle a gobbet of lemon chicken over an artist's snapping, slavering maw?

Well, thanks to the brilliant minds behind SWEATSHOP, now you can!

That's right. Sunday SWEATSHOP cuts out the middle man, and lets you, the faithful patrons of the arts, feed the artists directly.

HOW IT WORKS: I'll have a SWEATSHOP account set up on Eat24Hours.com, a website that acts as a portal to every delivery restaurant with an online menu. You, the Sweaty Victims Unit, will be able to order food directly to the studio in order to sustain the artists during our long haul. Bay Area locals are welcome to drop sustenance off in person, and come in for a studio visit.

But Eliza, you moan, isn't that DANGEROUS? Won't creepy skidstains from internets unknown start showing up at your door?? It's possible, sure! But ya see, I live on the edge. And by "the edge", I mean surrounded by large roommates and behind three locked doors. If I can survive in North Oakland for two years with no shrapnel to show for it, I think I can handle having my studio address accessible to people who want me to eat hot gooey pizza and draw pictures for them.

(Also, if you stalk me, I will fucking shoot you. I used to bullseye Diet Coke cans with my dad back home, they're not much bigger than your grotesquely tiny head, you FUCK.)

Join SWEATSHOP raconteur Eliza Gauger, surrealist horror painter Clayton Chenault, and filthy beat-dropping DJ Velveteen for 12 hours of completing old commissions, drawing new batmans, talking chatroom shit, and auctioning original art, all live on camera.

Tune into SWEATSHOP Sunday (today) at 12pm PST, and watch Eliza's Twitter for details about auctions, ordering noodles, and so on and so forth.

We're just going to spend the money on chow mein anyway, why not streamline the process?

? SWEATSHOP is here.
? Eliza's Twitter is here.

[reblog the hell out of this, peeps]

STEP 1: PERUSE THE MENUS.
Go to Eat24Hours.com and type in San Pablo Ave in the address field, and 94608 in the Zip field. No, this isn't my address, you creepazoids. Hit Search Now and you'll be presented with a list of restaurants.

STEP 2: CHOOSE THE FORM OF MY DESTROYER
Find a menu you like and put together a meal. Make a screenshot and send it to me at eliza.gauger at gmail, along with the total price via PayPal.

STEP 3: SELF-CONGRATULATIONS
The food will be ordered according to the screenshot, using a PayPal debit card, and the artists will devour it gamely.

GOOD JOB! You just fed an artist, which is something they're incapable of doing themselves.

BATMAN IKON, from last night's SWEATSHOP.