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Print-on-demand
gives me an opportunity to publish my own work - that is,
not the work I'm hired to do, but the work that I think wants
to exist. The stuff that, as a wise man once said, "blows
my skirts up". I don't wear skirts. It's what you call
a turn of phrase.
 I
went
through a long spell in which was keenly interested in Celtic
art - the sort of abstract decorative design that we call
"Celtic Knotwork" or "Celtic Interlace".
Both my grandmothers came from Irish-American families, so
that's my excuse. A lot of that work has grown into the Celtic
Art side of my online store, because I do still like it quite
a bit and I know that some of you do, too.
 But
more recently I've been exploring what I call "The Future
That Never Was" - that is, it's all about the future
that folks who read too much Flash Gordon or Buck Rogers thought
they'd live to
see; or maybe it's the future foreseen by the 1939 New
York Worlds Fair. This seems to have started with my love
for the music of the 20's and 30's, but grew into an interest
in the Depression era,
and from that, to the sort of better futures that people in
that terrible time hoped to see. What touches me about those
visions is the universality of them. People hoped not
so much for personal prosperity, but rather for a world in
which everyone would be better off. A world where breadlines
and apple sellers would be replaced by hovercars and autogyros.
At a time when 25% of America's population was unemployed
it just wasn't enough for any one person to do better - the
world needed to be remade.
 Many
of those bits of the future have been invented and achieved,
but we do seem to have missed out on that aspect of universality.
Not to mention the personal rocket ships, which, personally,
I'm still a little peeved about.
So
anyway, there isn't any great social import to the work I
do along those lines despite the fact that everyone tells
me that I think just a little bit too much. I'm just crazy
about the retro rockets, the faithful robots, the Cities of
Tomorrow, and all the great and hopeful details of the Future
That Never Was.
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 I
always thought that I'd be a writer. It was a bit of a shock
when, sometime in the middle 1970's, I realized that I was spending
all my time making pictures. For the most part I've been doing
that ever since.
Back
in those days there weren't a heck of a lot of options for artists,
so while I drew and painted and even sold my paintings I also
did advertising art and designs for businesses, painted signs,
did some illustration for publishers and small music labels,
and worked for awhile as a draftsman.
Computers
started to get awfully interesting in the late 1980s. I began
to do freelance work for computer game companies, founded one,
foundered it, and moved on to making and directing art at a
series of game development houses. Several have been shot out
from under me.
Lately I've taken a walk away from the
games business and I've settled down in a little harbor town
in northeastern Ohio.
My
role model used to be Philip Marlowe, but I've mellowed with
age: now it's Doc from "Cannery Row".
Bradley
W. Schenck
This
store is powered by CafePress,
which allows me to upload designs, apply them to an amazing
variety of products (including shirts, posters, cards, mugs,
tiles, and a whole lot more), and set up my shop pages.
It's pretty much like desktop publishing for all sorts of
merchandise.
When
you place an order, they process your payment, then manufacture
the goods and ship them to you. If there's a problem with
the order they handle the return and refund, if needed.
Nobody
keeps inventory - in addition to being like desktop publishing,
it's a little like fast food. Without the cholesterol.
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After nine years of its split personality - which is entertaining, mind you - I've now split this shop into two separate entities. You'll find my Celtic art at The Celtic Art Works, while my art of the Retro Future now makes its home at Retropolis.
