Mayer has been making sculptural robots out of typewriters for more than a decade now:

I started working with typewriters in 1994 while living in a small town in Iowa. They’ve always been intensely interesting to me (when I was about ten years old I wanted to take apart my mother’s 1920’s Underwood), so it was natural that, having a typewriter and some free time, I would want to dissect one. I think of the typewriter as a product of nature- it was designed by minds immersed in nature around them, and mimicked the curves, geometry, and physical processes abounding in nature. Though it is cold metal created by human hands, the typewriter is just as much a natural material as stone or wood. I concentrate on bringing this fascination with the raw material and interest in science and science fiction together in the subtleties of the human form.

Perhaps most impressive - outside of the beauty of the sculptures themselves - is the way that the pieces are constructed:

I do not solder, weld, or glue these assemblages together- the process is entirely cold assembly.

[Jeffrey Mayer]

Bikini FemBot is one of a series of robots designed by Etsy's Spaceboyjordo, each of which promises to

[aid] in safety & protection [and help] prevent ninjas, cowboys, aliens, pirates, dogs w/ sweaters, creepy uncles, and emo kids from entering your zone by using its robot skillz. For best results place robot on shelf facing a window and/or door of your zone. See results instantly. In case of detached limb during combat, acquire a hot glue servicing mechanism device and reattach where necessary. Sometimes robot may become fierce. Batteries not included, nor necessary. Robot personalities may vary. See a physician if complications occur.

Each of the robots are hand-made and one-of-a-kind; my favorite may be Yoshi, the Mega Robot. There's just something about his bright-green awesomeness that gets to me every time I look at him.

Holla at dem Bots yo! [Etsy]

Images by Andre Kutscherauer. [Artist's site, via BotJunkie]

The image "Robo Atlas" is a sketch for a painting which will appear in the Grunberg romantic comedy, which Grunberg co-wrote with fellow Heroes star David Anders (Kensei/Adam).
Here's Joyner's artist statement:

I was born in the year 1960, in San Mateo, a suburb of San Francisco, CA. My childhood was fairly uneventful, doing the usual things most kids did, reading comics (mostly Mad, Creepy, Eerie & newspaper comic strips), playing sports, making gunpowder, and going to school, as well as drawing and painting. My father was atheist & my mother a Methodist...While my mother would bribe me with donuts to go to Sunday school, my father would take me aside & tell me 'Jesus is a crock of S_ _ _". Oddly enough they stayed together for over 50 years. I remember going to a huge Van Gogh exhibit as a child at the De Young in SF (and being very impressed) & taking painting lessons with my older sister at the local recreation center. Sometime in the first grade, classmates & teachers started to take notice of my work and eventually some of my paintings from the forth grade class, along with some other students work, were chosen for an extended statewide tour.

In high school, I spent most of my energy dating, drawing, painting & working in a lumber mill to save up for school. After winning a few awards, I knew I'd be attending art school. So I left home (in Oregon) & attended the Academy of Art in San Francisco for four years. While there, I made a few friends & won some awards. Later, with influential teachers like Francis Livingston, Kazuhiko Sano, Bill Sanchez & Robert Hunt, my illustration skills improved & soon was getting a few advertising jobs during his last semester at the Academy (mostly pen & ink & school book assignments).

After Art school, I joined the San Francisco Society of Illustrators & participated in their annual shows, charities & Air force art programs. The clients were educational publishers, high tech companies, card companies, magazine publishers & advertising agencies. In 1989 I won two gold medals in the S.F.S.I. annual show.

During the recession of the early 1990s things were not going so good, not that they ever were really that great, in regards to my illustration career, So I took a computer animation assignment, not knowing mouse from a hole in wall...learning 5 programs at the same time & trying to meet deadlines may sound fun, but I don't recommend trying it. Anyway, after 3 months of torture, though the work was successful (Mavis teaches typing for kids) I chose not to pursue animation. The training was good though, & I still use some of the things I learned. A few years later, I took a job texture mapping for a CG movie & got to relive the learning/producing nightmare. The next job, doing backgrounds for Internet cartoons at Spunky Productions, for some reason, was not such a headache. I was prepared to do it the rest of my life, but like so many other companies of the dot-com phenomenon, the company folded.

In 1999 I started to enter various juried shows at Artisans Gallery in Mill Valley, CA. & the work was well received. Shows in other galleries, (usually group shows) were positive as well. In 2000, after years of visualizing other peoples ideas, I made the decision to only paint things that I liked. Four series of paintings of different subjects were started; they were: San Francisco urbanscapes, paintings of old newspaper cartoons characters, Mexican masks, and last but not least, Japanese tin (toy) robots. Though all four series of these subjects were enjoyable to do, I chose to focus on the tin robots, as they were the most popular & seemed to have the most possibilities.

So, armed with a small collection of tin robots & spaceships I began painting them in earnest. In attempt to bring them to life without losing their charm, I showed them where they belonged: outer space. By 2002 the paintings were looking good, but they still needed something to play off of... perhaps a nemesis. After a month or so of searching for a 'nemesis' I had an epiphany while watching the movie 'Pleasantville.' In one of the scenes, Jeff Daniels paints a still life of...donuts. With thoughts of Wayne Thiebaud's pastries always close at hand, it wasn't difficult to see the battle scene of robots retreating from 300-foot tall donuts when I went to bed that night. The rest, as they say, is history.