Welcome to the June installment of Ungood Art Day, traditionally the 13th of every month on JSVB. I was hoping to postpone Ungood Art Day with some amazing Stanley Cup victory news, but the Bruins won Game Six, and so there will be a Game Seven as well as the usual Ungood Art Day.
Today's Ungood Art trangresses several boundaries of good taste at once. First, it is based on Star Trek fan fiction. I already have a few art pieces of that sort posted on JSVB, but this one actually attempts tp superimpose my own likeness into the Trek Universe. This is arguably the most self-serving form of artwork, if not the geekiest.
I now present Captain Sluggo:
I put this thing together with a very early version of Photoshop, one that did not support many of the advanced functions that today's version has. I took a publicity shot from the Star Trek pilot episode and stuck my facial features on top. Then, I hand painted the skin and hair to age the character and apparently added grain to match the look of the film. I recall that it was quite a lot of work, for a really dubious result.
As they say in the late night television commercials: "But wait, there's more!". At the time I was getting started with Photoshop, I also was doing a lot of creative writing. My friends were Trekkies and we all wrote a lot, including some really turgid fan fiction. As it happens, I have an astonishing piece where I unflinchingly inserted myself into the Star Trek canon (well, I flinch now, if that means anything to anybody). I think I wrote the piece at the same time I made this picture. I refer to myself as "Commander Shyluk" (gahhh!) , although "Commander Shyluk" eventually transforms into "Captain Sluggo" for reasons too trivial to share here. Other Star Trek stereotypes appear with thinly disguided names. Well, except for Chief Engineer Hitler. I guess I thought that Scotty needed to be replaced with a name with greater shock value.
In any case, here is a mercifully brief excerpt from the archives of The Sluggo Files:
The Chief Engineer's strident voice piped up to the bridge in clipped, tinny tones: "We have not made much headway on the transporters, Commander. The scan wave plates have been completely ionized. It could be hours before we can get them back to operational."
"I'd like to see results rather than explainations, Chief. I'd like to avoid having any kind of situation up here, especially one where we might need the transporters. How are the sensors coming along?"
"The stasis wave knocked out most of the array. However, with some improvised cross-circuiting, I would say they are up to thirty percent efficiency."
Commander Shyluk scowled at the communicator grid in the arm of the chair. "A Federation starship is expected to run at one hundred percent efficiency or better, Chief. See to it we get that way."
"Yes, sir. Hitler out."
Commander Shyluk shifted in the chair, resting his lantern chin in one hand. In the blank glass of one of the inoperative sensor screens, he saw his own reflection. Years of deep space duty were beginning to wear hard upon him. He still kept in shape, his shoulders were as broad and his stomach as flat as ever, but time was becoming an increasingly difficult adversary to best. Already, he was beginning to grey at the temples of his wavy, jet black hair. Life on the USS Interdictor was aging him rapidly. The swashbuckling exploits of Captain Wolverine added to his collection of white hairs while taking years away from his life expectancy. With a sense of determination that he felt came from rote rather than duty, he tore himself away from the reflection on his life and turned to the matters at hand.
"Mr. Splag, at your convnience, I want you to increase the power of the sensor sweeps. Even at thirty percent effectiveness, we should be able to penetrate the stasis wave to see what's in the middle of it."
Wordlessly, the Vulcan got up from his controls and walked over to the sensor suite left vacant by the science officer who was, of course, on the shuttlecraft with the captain. Lieutanant Silo, the weapons officer, slid over one seat to cover the helm.
"The helm is responding, Commander. What are your orders?"
Again, my friend Earl gets credit for saving this stuff on his computer for decades, only to spring it upon me in time for Ungood Art Day. The original promotional photograph must have come from Paramount Studios or a publication associated with them, although I don't remember for sure any more.
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