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Steve Woron's Illustration Studio, 136 Echo Ridge Drive, Vernon Rockville, CT (2025)

12/12/2025

"Flying Tigress" (tap for full coolness)
Me: Supergirl Brandy's costume featured a custom look I designed with her for total comfort. The open mesh areas allowed for body cooling on hot shooting days. Her super-toned body was perfect for Supergirl as she's a fitness model.

Brandy: Yeah for some reason we went with almost no makeup here, but it works. These trampoline shots were a blast! Here I almost look like I can control gravity, almost like I'm swimming.
Me: Graceful, beautiful yet powerful. My gurl. (fist bump)

12/11/2025

Creating a short video from a single still photo. Here Klingai basically does some stuff that makes NO sense if you look closely...
In the story our glamorous spy cracks a safe...

12/10/2025

July 2026 looks like it will be interesting.

12/10/2025

“Who Doesn’t Love Supergirl?”
ME: So, Monica… this is going to be the last image I post with commentary.

Monica: [eyes widening dramatically] Oh. Why?

Me: Well… it seems no one actually reads them. People just swoop in, stare at the picture like magpies spotting something shiny, and fly off.

Monica: And you know this how, exactly?

Me: Because no one comments on the fifty—yes, fifty—we’ve done. The blog gets love, but Facebook? Tumbleweeds.
Blog:
https://theillustrationstudio.wordpress.com

Monica: [sighs, shoulders slumping] Oh. That’s too bad. I actually love diving deeper. It’s fun hearing the thoughts, the techniques, the behind-the-scenes mischief… the completely unplanned chaos when things go sideways…

Me: Yeah, well. Maybe I’ll still do some every now and then. But for the most part? This is it. Not worth the time.

Monica: [dramatic groan, flops backward like she just witnessed the tragic fall of civilization]

12/09/2025

“An Eyeful of the Future; a Belly Full of the Past” (Tap for full pic)
Me: Nice to see you glammed up. (smiling with raised brows)

Mandy: Strange not seeing me holding a weapon, shooting at some unseen hostile, chopping my way through a jungle, or frolicking in the ocean in a bikini. (mock offense, hand to chest)

Me: Oh, I thought you liked dressing up. No? (playful confusion)

Mandy: No, I do—and the spy stuff is my favorite—but sometimes it is nice not wearing a costume, per se. You know? (gentle shrug)

Me: Is that not a costume? (feigned innocence)

Mandy: Yes, but I am not playing a character. You understand my point? (tilting head, amused)

Me: I understand. But you said you enjoy when I weave a story into our photoshoots, do you not? Confused. (knowing grin)

Mandy: I suppose I do. (soft laugh) I like watching you conjure characters out of thin air and spin a little tale that suits the outfit I'm wearing. It is astonishing to witness. I mean—who does that in real time? P**f! (hands thrown into the air)

Me: I am accustomed to working with people who have catastrophically short attention spans, so my mind tries to keep them engaged at a million miles a minute. Either everything is meticulously planned, or I improvise the entire affair. For instance, this photo—this was not its original direction. (gesturing broadly)

Mandy: Right. (nods knowingly)

Me: Often the final image is a pilgrimage through serendipitous mistakes. (wry smile)

Mandy: Oh wow. Do all artists work like that? (genuine curiosity)

Me: Unknown. My method might not suit anyone else. I prefer to watch things unfold, almost like shaping clay—I take away what bothers me more than I add what I desire, if that makes sense. I often share a starting reference image with you but— (thoughtful pause) Some models need a lot of hand holding.

Mandy: The final product is never that reference. (laughing) I know your style now so I'm hoping I need minimal direction.

Me: Bingo. (snaps fingers triumphantly)

12/09/2025

“Bold Strokes for Colorful Folks” (tap for full pic)
Jill: Someone likes big bold colors. (grinning mischief)
Me: Always. We live in a very drab color society now. Look at cars—three colors: gray, black, white. What happened to pizzazz? (mild exasperation)

Jill: Make it bold, make it beautiful. (dramatic flourish)
Me: Nature is full of high-impact colors. Color causes attraction in mating. (professor mode engaged)

Jill: Is that why Supergirl's outfit is so colorful? (teasing eyebrow raise)
Me: I didn’t design it. (finger up in mock innocence)

Jill: Now, you said this is two different photos combined? (curious squint)
Me: Right. One photo I loved the hair and expression. The other had that front—well, side—light that lit up your chest perfectly. So I combined the two images. (proud mad-scientist energy)

Jill: That cape color is pure fire. Literally. It looks like it’s on fire. (delighted awe)
Me: Love it to bits. (heart-eyes)

Jill: The hair was a nightmare, but Kat got the wind machine at exactly the right pressure—enough to lift the locks but not make it look like I was in a Category 3. (battle-hardened glam warrior)
Me: Right. Perfect balance of chaos and glam. And that classic “Jill” expression: the “you can’t have me” look. I love that coy vibe. (playful admiration)

Jill: Dare I say… a signature expression of yours? (smirk)
Me: Well, typically when I shoot you, yes. You’ve got that dream-girl-next-door look. (soft sincerity)

Jill: Aww, thanks. (warm fuzzies)
Me: Thanks for everything you do. (grateful smile)

Jill: Your pleasure. (cheeky grin)
Me: Huh? (confused blink)
Jill: A little joke. (innocent whistle)
Me: Very little. (dry deadpan)

12/08/2025

“Shoulder Devil, vs. Shoulder Angel”
Me: Jill, having fun?
Sophie: I love these charity events. The kids obviously. (chin in hand smiling)

Me: Right. Are the costumes comfortable?
Sophie: As comfortable as a super-heroine costume can be, yeah. The low back—or backless—design and the breakaway arms for really hot days? Lit. It’s honestly unbelievable because that thing is shrink-wrap skin tight. It takes two people to peel it off at the end of the day. (innocent blinking)

Me: Is that what all the giggling is at the end of the day in the guest rooms?
Sophie: Oh yeah. The mesh pattern is in my b***s for hours afterwards. And as you know, we don’t wear bras underneath because lines will show and you didn’t want that—

Me: Whoa—(laughs to self, hands up in surrender) I said it was optional. Dot said they weren’t needed. Her words: “The material lifts and separates.”
Sophie: I look like a giant waffle nakkid. (deadpan, pointing at chest)

Me: (looks at imaginary camera, slow crooked smirk) …Well now—
Sophie: I’ll show you next time. You know… my whole upper body. (sly grin, eyebrow raise)

Me: You really want to trap me, don’t you? (internal shoulder angel: no, internal shoulder devil: YESSS)
Sophie: I can have some spotters if it’ll make you feel better. (giggling, absolutely knows it won’t)

Me: Oh yes, because that makes it way more normal… Besides, what are you trying to prove? I get it’s tight. No question.
Sophie: Just screwing with you. (playful shrug)

Me: More like slowly killing me.
Sophie: (kisses cheek, does a dramatic superhero swish while laughing)😁

Me: Can’t get that out of my head now.
Sophie: (calling from down the hall, wickedly sweet) Poor baby...😉

12/08/2025

"Achromatic RAINBOWS” (Unedited)
Me: Go.

Adriah: Go what? (eyebrow raised in exhausted disbelief)
Me: Go, girl. What about this photo?

Adriah: (scoffs dramatically, arms crossed) Yeah, geez, you literally told me to suit up for the covert spy scene. After suiting up I go in for hair and makeup, but nooooooo. You grab me—literally like I was caught stealing ci******es. (annoyed pause) Kinda sexy by the way.
Me: Keep going…

Adriah: Anyway, you don't let me get made up or get my hair done. It’s in a ponytail. A pony. Tail. I object, but you perform your patent-pending “I’m ignoring you” routine. (eye-roll so hard it creates wind)

Me: The spy shot was supposed to be as unglam as possible. The character is in the field in survival mode, not in a beauty contest—which, someone protested, that I do too much of.

Adriah: Wasn’t me. (offended gasp but totally was)
Me: No matter.

Adriah: I’ve got dirt on my face. Seriously? No earrings, not even studs—
Me: Don’t care.

Adriah: Bags under my eyes. Brows not done. Sweat on my forehead. No fingernails. (holds hands up like evidence in a murder trial)

Me: Even better. You should look tired but resolute.
Adriah: Oh I’m that. Completely that. (throws hands up) Just a little aside, sweetie: models don’t like being photographed in the raw. Like magicians don’t reveal their tricks.

Me: Oh well.

Adriah: BTW the patch is really cool, dragon head spewing lightning. Your session I take it?
Me: One of them, in progress.

Adriah: What I do for you is unbelievable. I mean, you know that? (dramatic sigh, martyr energy)
Me: I mean… this is pretty much how you wake up, right?

Adriah: Wel— (tiny gasp, betrayed)
Me: I told Elena what we were doing for the shoot—she’s involved in it—and she just said, “Oh, okay. Great.”

Adriah: Well good for her. (defensive arm-crossing intensifies) She looks awesome with or without makeup. I don’t.

Me: (to himself, staring into the void) This is a trap. (deep internal screaming)

12/05/2025

"NUTBUSTER" (tap for full pic)
Me: Hi, “Chat” (Jill). (smirks like I’ve already annoyed her and I’m proud of it)

Jill: Steve… a big hello. (Waves on Zoom like an overcaffeinated kid who reunited with her lost puppy… or maybe just found a really good coupon)

Me: Wow, look at this shot. I mean, I’m technically not supposed to comment on models’ bodies but holy freakin’ crap— you wear that costume with pure impunity. (raises eyebrows like I’ve witnessed a minor miracle) You could probably bench-press a city bus… maybe two if you’re feeling feisty!

Jill: I don’t know about that, but yeah— when Project Supergirl started, I took it as my cue to start working out. Then during the 2023–24 winter I really kicked it off, prepping for your spring shoot. (shrugs like she’s casually explaining how she built a death star in her garage)

Me: The way the light falls across your upper body is just— unreal. (leaning in like I’m analyzing a crime scene photo) And those legs… good God, you could probably crush walnuts on command. And that expression— pure defiant authority. Absolute confidence. The “don’t test me, Steve” kind. (grim proud nod)

Jill: Well, that part there’s no gym for. (deadpan self-awareness)

Me: Jill, seriously— zero regrets in this shot. At all. (hands up like I’m surrendering to the aesthetic)

Jill: The shorts barely fit now. (grimaces like the shorts personally betrayed her)

Adriah: I can fix that. (already plotting with scissors)

Jill: Great. I also have a bigger cape now too… (sinister superhero flourish)

Me: Nice. (approving nod, borderline dramatic)

Jill: I’ll bring you some shelled walnuts next time I see you. (mock-threatening eyebrow lift)

Me: Make a little video shelling them. (grins like I know I deserve whatever incoming punishment is next)

Jill: Perv. (but said with that “you’re an idiot, but you’re my idiot” eye-roll)

12/05/2025

"STOLEN DOLLS"
Mandy: (smiling softly) This is one of the first test shots you did of me. 2022? Was I really that young? And the long hair… wow.

Me: (grinning, teasing) I wish I could say this captured your essence, but honestly there are like a hundred shots that do exactly that. You’re basically a living... doll. (affectionate grinning wink)

Mandy: (blushes, playful smile) Awww. Well thank you. (leans head against my shoulder)

Me: This was, what, test shoot number FIVE? Do you know how many test shoots I normally do with a new model for our group?

Mandy: (fake panic side eye) Ahhhh…

Me: One! (raises eyebrow dramatically)

Mandy: (laughs, shoulders shaking)

Me: But someone kept texting ideas and outfits… “I was thinking of this, that—and Steve what do you think of this?” (tilts head, playful high-pitched impression of a girl)

Mandy: (rolls eyes, smirking) You remember things a different way.

Me: Really? Well, when we get our phones back—(mock serious) (NO phone rule engaged till evening) , remember—we’ll check the texts. (smirks)

Mandy: (groans dramatically) Oh well, crap. If you’ve got evidence, I give up. (giggles)

Me: (victorious grin) Aha.

Mandy: (light laugh) I just wanted to make sure the pics were top notch.

Me: (leaning in, teasing) So the first four shoots were no good?

Mandy: (hands up defensively) Well, no, not that…

Me: (soft, curious) Then what?

Mandy: (avoiding eye contact, tiny smile) Look… I liked working with you, okay? It was fun doing noncommercial stuff.

Kat: (arches brow, smirking) And...?

Me: (groans) Stop.

Kat: Oh are we pretending—

Me: Mandy, wanna stop here?

Mandy: (quick nod, giving Kat a sharp stink eye) Yes, please.

12/04/2025

"Who makes cookies in the middle of a highway?" (tap for full...)
Monica: This is a nice shot — simple, nice expression, unassuming pose, very "film" looking.

Me: (teasing, eyebrow raised like a confused puppy wearing glasses) What’s film?

Monica: (lightbulb flickers on, tiny internal confetti explosion) OH! I know this. It’s 35mm. (self-assured smirk, proud mom-holding-a-certificate energy)

Me: 35mm is the size of the film. (pauses dramatically like a game show host) But what IS film?
Monica: (nervous, sweating internally, confidence deflating like a sad balloon animal) Goes in the camera… (beat… silence… existential crisis hits) Right?

Me: (hands her a Nikon D90 DSLR camera like presenting Simba in The Lion King) Okay, show me where it goes...
Monica: (spins camera around like trying to read the bottom of shampoo bottle) Somewhere… (opens battery door like opening a portal to Narnia)

Me: (buzzer sound effect) That’s the battery. Nope.
Monica: (whispers to camera like it personally betrayed her) Crap. Maybe this little slot?

Me: (smug, full villain laugh loading) The film goes in the memory card slot. (as a statement)
Monica: (deep sigh, spirit momentarily leaves her body and takes an Uber home) I don’t know.

Me: (snickers like a hyena finding Wi-Fi)
Monica: (yells like summoning Avengers but girl group version) WHO’S HERE!? Izzy, Spanky (Elena) and Jackie, COME HERE!

(They swish over like dramatic wind-blown shampoo commercial heroes.)

Monica: WHERE DOES THE FILM GO IN THIS CAMERA!? (pleading like this will decide rent payment due tomorrow)

Me: (leans into imaginary camera like a nature documentary narrator) This is gonna be great. (side glance from Kat burns the backside of my brain — silent judgement flamethrower)

Me: (recovering, fake professionalism cape on) Okay ladies, just point to where the film goes.

Jackie: (confident, but like someone who didn’t read the instructions) The back opens somehow.
Spanky: (suddenly suspicious like the camera owes her money) Where’s the film? (puts palm upright)

Me: (pulls out an ancient relic like Indiana Jones revealing treasure) Here!

(Holds up a 35mm Kodacolor 400 canister like exposing the Holy Grail of CVS aisle.)

Izzy: (thinks REALLY hard, sparks visible, smoke optional) Maybe it goes in the front!
Me: (eye twitch, horror movie music, slow zoom in) No. And DO NOT remove the lens.

Elena: (memory interrupts, dusty VHS tape playing in her mind) I remember something about lifting a k**b — the back opened!
Monica: (looks for the k**b like it personally ghosted her) I don’t see a k**b.

Me: (patting the cameras metaphorical shoulder) There IS no k**b.

Izzy: (holds film canister like it might explode or love her back) THIS is film!?
Me: (dramatic gasp 2.0 incoming) No! The film is inside that can!

Monica: (about to pry it open like a can of soup labeled "DO NOT OPEN") How does it come out?
Me: (dives across room mentally like protecting a wedding cake from toddlers) NOOO! You’ll expose it!

Elena: (offended gasp, staring like I said oxygen is forbidden) You’re kidding?
Me: (deadpan, October spooky honesty) No. It can’t touch light.

Izzy: (bewildered, voice cracks like a theatrical monologue) How do you use something you can’t see or touch!?

Kat: (finally taps in with gentle sanity superhero energy) Guys. It’s a trick. His camera is digital. With film, you have to develop it.

Monica: (dramatic distrust kicks in like soap opera betrayal arc) That sounds like BS. That’s CRAZY.

Me: (turns into interview podcaster) Okay. How many photos can you take on one roll?

Izzy: Roll?

Me: It's called a roll. And not the kind you eat.

Monica: (generously wrong) 200??
Izzy: (aggressively wrong, but inspirational) 1000!!!

Jackie: (locks in on the Kodacolor logo, number she actually sees) It says 400 so… 400?
Me: (turns toward Elena like her answer will unlock the universe) Elena??

Elena: (shooting for lottery odds) 2500?
Kat: (losing it, full laugh-cry mode, shoulders shaking like a washing machine) OMGGG! (face plant)

Me: (leans in like delivering political breaking news) Try 20 or 36.
(All gasp like Wi-Fi disappeared worldwide.)
Izzy: (painfully emotional, hand to chest) Ouch.

Izzy: (staring at me like I built the pyramids) HOW DID YOU GET THEM ON THE COMPUTER!?

Me: Sit down, ladies... (long pause like revealing dinosaurs were real) There were none.
(Collective gasp, dramatic choir, emotional support dog needed.)

Me: (leans into imaginary mic like ending a crime documentary) Yeah… film was 35mm. It was usually Kodak. Development was chemicals. That was photography, ladies.

Monica: (walking away slowly like questioning every life decision and also cameras in general) I'm done… I'm DONE done.

Izzy: Didn't they develop film in those little huts?

Elena: You quack, those are toll BOOTHS.

Jackie: (shrugs) What's a toll booth?

Izzy: Why would they develop film in the middle of a highway?

Elena: (snippy) I don't know, Easy pickup? Cause collecting a toll in a parking lot makes perfect sense. Ya dope.

Kat: Steve. Stop this madness...

(in background) "Like toll house cookies"?
Me: (laughing doubled over)
"Who makes cookies in the middle of a highway?"

Steve Woron's Illustration Studio

12/12/2025

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