My husband is a graphic designer. I am a singer. A company I was singing with needed a new artist to create their posters and advertisements after their usual poster-creator decided to depart to spend more time painting. Yay for the husband, they gave him the job. Because he's insane and enjoys performing the most tedious and repetitive tasks known to man or artist, he decided to do a poster based on Mucha's "Desdemona" created for Sarah Bernhardt. The show I was in was "The Gondoliers," so he also decided to do it, additionally, in the style of an Italian mosaic. For three months, all that I heard was click...click...click as he drew 15,000 individual little tiles in PhotoShop. All night. I still hear the sound in my sleep.
When the poster was finished, it was freakishy beautiful. He needed a picture of a Gondolier so he took one of himself wearing a pimp hat left over from our Pimp and Ho bachelor/bachelorette party and added huge biceps. His face was all over town. His poster was even reviewed in Seattle Weekly.
Anyway, he started a new job at Microsoft last week. He walked by a co-worker's office yesterday and saw his Gondoliers poster mounted on foam hanging on her wall next to an autographed picture of Michael Vartan. Just where it should be.