Hey, I’m Max!

I’m a designer and illustrator located in Kansas City. My passion lies in leveraging my skills to tackle creative challenges, embracing design that thrives on a robust visual aesthetic and the art of storytelling.


Projects


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maxtgregg@gmail.com
Mark

Boulevardia Festival Poster (2024) (Unused)



Deja Blue





Harp Player




Brachyura Noir






Guard The Fortress





Return of the Magicians

This piece is a non-commissioned leading image for a New York Times article titled “Return of the Magicians” in which the author explains the role artificial intelligence plays in relation to the idea of magic.




The Greens and Grob on Grusel

The Greens, as they are called, are a peaceful alliance of alien creatures who habit the planet of Grusel alongside various other life forms. They have survived on this planet against all odds, as pacifist approaches to the wastelands of Grusel were often those of dire stupidity. That’s because at night, the true tenants of Grusel roamed, and they don’t take politely to cohabitation. Unimaginable creatures and nightmares alike stalk the lands, seeking out the poor souls with no place to hide in hopes of their next meal. Thus, when the sun had taken its retreat, it was best for the Greens to do so too. Though it hasn’t been without painstaking efforts and cooperation that they survived for so long in this harsh world. Many centuries ago, an alliance was made with a local creature known only as Grob. Grob, as far as the Greens know, is the oldest living creature on Grusel, and by no mistake. Grob is able to terrify even the evilest monsters of the night with his insidious grin. In exchange for protection of their settlement at night, the Greens provide Grob with virtually infinite food by scouring Grusel in the daytime, typically collecting the remains of last night’s victims. When the sun begins to set, the Greens return and Grob emerges, feasting on his spoils and shining his wicked smile all throughout the night.






Self Portrait

The floor seldom visible and the stench ever present, just leaving the house became quite the arduous task. He stepped over trash bags piled to his chest and shoved open doors barely escapable against the building eminence of junk. The rats walked under his feet and through the walls, scurrying in what was unequivocally their kingdom now. He questioned how the rest of them could live in such a way, but as all survivors do, he acclimated with numb acceptance. Some years later, he became the sole tenant of the house, outlasting them all, and with no claimants to the throne remaining, the kingdom was his to reign...for as long as he could survive.