Today’s sketch was a tiger toy from the Houston Zoo, belly-up like he wanted a tummy rub and a bad decision.
Sketch and Coffee Live at 5:30am Texas time
I laid in the composition quickly, drawing him in perspective with paws and tail stretched toward me. The sketch went smoothly, the livestream, not so much. I have been geeting new technology upgrades and it turns out, the new streaming setup had gremlins in the cables. I talked to myself for eight minutes before the stream actually started. THEN it was streaming to the wrong live stream! I didn’t even know you could do that! Thankfully, my mom’s got a direct line to my ear and she saved the day.
We’ve been on a big cat streak lately: jaguar, panther, puma. But today, I focused on the biggest of them all: Panthera tigris, the tiger. Tigers speciated from leopards about 2.5 million years ago and are the largest cats alive, even bigger than lions. They’re solitary not because they hate each other, but because the jungle demands stealth and space. There are fewer than 5,000 wild tigers left due to habitat loss, human conflict, and poaching. And don’t get me started on the ridiculous belief that tiger bones and organs can boost virility. That’s not medicine. That’s Dark Crystal-level fantasy. We must drink the essence of gelfling! Eating pork doesn’t give you truffle finding skills. Venison doesn’t let you jump high fences. And red bull doesn’t give you wings It’s ridiculous. I’m ranting. Moving on…
But today’s tiger wasn’t just biology. He was also a story. Shere Khan! Kipling’s original was a petty, resentful character, lame from birth and full of spite. But Disney’s 1967 version, voiced by George Sanders, became a masterclass in elegant menace. Sanders didn’t growl, he purred. And his portrayal influenced Jeremy Irons’ Scar decades later in The Lion King. The 2016 Jungle Book CGI remake with Idris Elba as Shere Khan had stunning visuals and great actors, but it missed the heart. It traded silence for snarl, subtlety for spectacle. The one saving grace? Scarlett Johansson’s hypnotic “Trust In Me” over the end credits. Slinky, smooth, and spine-chilling, any snake (or ginger) that sang to me like that would absolutely trap me. That one track had more presence than the whole film.