a room of one's own.

this is the highly inspirational workspace of the wildly talented cris rose.

looks quite cozy. and it seems we share the same taste. really makes me

want a kickass studio to hide in... just some nice thoughts for a friday.

roll call.

2010 3AA pack WWRp nom de plume and the dirty deeds 12

this is just epic.

noir de plume was the leader of the dirty deeds crew...

so maybe this was taken on the day that nom joined up?

more likely it's just laundry day.

let's all thank mr. cris rose for the incredible picture.

edit: check the comments for nom schooling

grinding gears.

cris rose is unstoppable. from his aquatic lair, he continues to one-up himself with more advanced and fantastical creatures. his style and technique continue to expand and refine, and it's brilliant to watch.

i can't keep up.

chaos monkey [scrumpy]

that little mouth will bore right through you...

like a piranha through pâté.

tubular.

wwr square [cadbury]

chocolatey smooth with a creamy brain center.

so what if he's a little slow.

[deep forest] wwrp bramble [monty the lumberjack]

i'd be a lumberjack if a gatling gun was standard. damn.

paul bunyan couldn't hold a candle to monty.

although they do both love flapjacks.

if these don't get you excited, then you have no eyes. be sure to click all of their names for their wonderfully elaborate stories. i'm itching to see what cris does with the pallet of full-size armstrongs he's got burning a hole on his workbench. stay tuned.

battle of the bonnie blue brits.

this is an evolution. a small epic. the story of a boy. a boy who deep down wasn't a boy at all. only 1s and 0s whizzed through his head.

an unthreatening facade, just a little rough around the edges, kept him safe. this boy who would be boss traveled. snow capped mountain majesties became his companions. he spoke to the animals,

but none spoke back. he was content as a solitary traveler.

a collector of information. a sentry unaware of the mission he was so perfectly executing.

must take a big needle to tattoo steel.

he didn't mean to squeeze jerry so hard. honest.

at least he doesn't talk as much now.

chugging away, forever with an appropriate halo of smoke.

then the day that everything changed. the boy heard a whirring inside that he had not heard before. he felt funny inside, started seeing changes to his body. tubes where there were no tubes. gears replicating gears. thicker smoke than ever before. and oil everywhere for all his new additions. a strong urge to destroy washed over him. using a couple of sturdy hedgehogs and some sulphuric acid, he shed his tattoos for something a little more streamlined. he was now the machine he always knew he might be. an armored bulldog of survival. there would not be much in the quickly approaching war that would catch him off guard...

stepped in moss. one eye rusted shut. and leaking oil.

it was a good party.

this thing come with a transmorgrifier?

sweet. let's turn hobbes into a rhino.

during the zombie wave of 1940, home cremation bots

became all the rage. large and ungainly,

but available in patterns to match your decor!

three more killer bots to add to the 3A customizing fun. the first bambaboss above was done by custard4gravy. a beautiful rusty landscape of skull-pecking birds. check out all of his fantastic work

on the flickrs and twitters.

the second and thirds were done by the always amazing cris rose.

you know where to find him. at one point, ash made a comment about bambaboss being the field general for all the squares. so the matching duo here fit together nicely.

i loved that the guys used the exact same palette for their brilliant bosses, so i gave them a connecting story. hope you two don't mind.

arrrgghhhgh blllluguugugg hikkjjj

gralllhjghkkk blacuuhghghg eghty ack ack ack uckkk. yooooooooooogglubbb?

fllleerppp. fllleerppp. huoooojdjdjdslikkkkk kko kkkoooooooo. ghojjzad.

hyyyklixxbaaaaa!

hliisssh shhhhlisshhkk. skclajtttt.

oooaooak. jjjerrooook? ghorv.

ohooook. awwwookkkkkooo. ttraauk.ttraauk.ttraauk.

...bitchin.

artist spotlight: [ cris rose ]

cris rose is an artist. 

he creates worlds. gives them purpose. and lets them live. 

this is not a pristine imaginary terrarium. this is gritty and real.

there is nothing sugar-coated about a rampaging guardian ripping apart logging machines with his bare stone hands. "protect all wildlife" used to be a coarsetoys paw. no more.

do not get in his way. there is no off switch.

rusted retribution.

thomas han's pusher is now cris rose's "deconstructor" 

looks like an assassin, but his directive is good.

stripping parts from defunct robotics is a cakewalk for this little buzzsaw.

just don't call him a butterfly.

seal clubbers beware. "avalanche" has clubs of his own.

this was a ledbetter smash... really. kicks the shit out of the ham fisted monkey.

he may have gone rogue, but his heart is true.

protect all wildlife AND avalanche? is there a noble underground organization deploying these badboys?

a brilliant little slice of time. "the wandering memorial" 

a neth creature no more. this is the future.

i want to wander the rainy green bits of england when i die.

encased in a majestic caretaker. 

wave hello. say goodbye.

this is only a small sample of the brilliant works of the very busy man. each one has the look of years ground into it, and yet he continues to pump them out. one greater than the next. i love his rusted dented behemoths. and the fact that he gives each one a story only adds to the worn patina. 

i will own a cris rose piece someday. i will.

all of the fantastic shots are courtesy of cris' flickr

if you've got a hot hand, you might be able to grab one of his pieces here

click on the individual piece names to read cris' story for each.