Absence

This day will not end. No rest for the weary, so they say. My voyage from Texas to Vermont has been EPIC and I hope it will be over soon.



This is a Love comic I made a few weeks ago. My reading and writing teacher posited the question: It is possible to make a comic that speaks directly to the reader in the same intimate and less narrative, more abstract way that a poem does?

This is my response.

A man's lover left him alone in the house they used to share. He says I'm fine. I don't even miss her. But everything he sees or touches reminds him of the woman he loves. His memories of their life together haunt him. Notice the face in the moon.



Meanwhile, I'm riding through New Hampshire with a old man sleeping on my shoulder. The hour is late. My patience is thin: outlook for the future: ask again later.

Lets get Collectively Unconscious!

While my friend Miriam was in town she was walking by the railroad tracks and found a GIANT prescription bottle full of anti-psychotics usually taken for Schizophrenia, a seizure disorder, or Mania. We returned it to the pharmacy where it was prescribed, but I couldn't get it out of my head.


Who lost it? Did they drop the pills on purpose or did they loose them during a seizure?

So, I wrote a comic about it.

The comic is a dream sequence described by a psychotic patient to his doctor. In the dream, the patient takes depakote, splits in two and tries to kill himself. Interspersed are excerpts from the writings of C.G. Jung that frame the dream in a psychoanalitic context. Trust me, it makes sense if you read it. As Jung himself said, "All phenomena of this kind are unique and exceedingly curious combinations of chance. Held together by the common meaning of parts to form an unmistakable whole.

Towing the Line

Here is my latest comic.




I've been working hard. Then Miriam came town town and now she's distracting me with tales of train hopping and highway robbery. She is charmed by White River Junction and I am charmed by her charm.

My work is growing in leaps and bounds. And I recently discovered/have been obsessing over the work of Osamu Tezuka. His line is impeccable and I find it hard to believe that he didn't have a crew of assistants or tiny elves to help him. His output was ferocious. For those of you who don't know his work, here is just one tiny glimpse at his brilliance.

Raptors

Two weeks ago (give or take a few days) I went with my CCS class to the Raptor center and drew birds of prey. It was amazing to draw these guys up close and personal. The Great Horned owl even choked up and owl pellet with bones inside.

Lately I’ve been occupied with the structure of storytelling. The question has been prominent iin my mind and now I go around asking . . . “How do you think about writing comic books?”
“How much of your process is intuitive and how much is well thought out?”
Let me tell you this is a great way to gain friend and amuse your peers. Try it at home!

I’ve been getting in some good reading that speaks about structure: Mamet’s On directing Film, Save the Cat Goes to the Movies by Blake Snyder, and trying to understand the language of storytelling and how to communicate with an audience. This means dealing with pacing, picking the right moments, character development,

It seems easy, identify the objective of the story, and break the story down into the phases the characters must go through in order to reach the objective of the story. Sounds straightforward but it is not. Where do you begin the story? What moments do you pick to tell the actions? How do you deal with pacing to maintain clarity of the story and emotional tone? And that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

Mamet says that the director/artist/craftsman needs to know the rigid structure of technique in order to maintain form and then once the structure is in place allow the unconscious to elaborate upon it. But in this post-post-modern (po-po-mo) age when art is about individual expression and there is not one dominating style, how are we supposed to know who to listen to?

The Big Time

Hello All.

I have been obviously lax in my blogging, well, no more. From now on I'm on a strict regime of U-tube watching and endless blogging, well, maybe once a week. So far this semester has been exhausting. Jason Lutes and James Sturm, two of my eminent professors are keeping me on my toes and outside of REM sleep. But, no more neglecting my dear little blog.

Pictured above is the digital copy of my yearbook picture that was silk-screened and put into the CCS 2008 yearbook. Now the world can see me for what I really am, a radical political hero -- whose picture has been defaced.

I have a backlog of imagery and comics to put up. Look for more next week.

Land of Cheese and Honey

Ha! I have a new Vermont life and a New England point of view. Gimmee maple syrup and solitude.

So, I’ve settled into an apartment, gotten a job and I’ll start school next week. Holy Crap! Young comix artists watch out, I am talented, obsessive, and without moral compunction when it comes to art. Can’t say I didn’t warn you.

Since I am now on the East Coast and so near my old stomping ground, New York, I decided to take a brief visit and see some dear old friends. There was Bellini’s St. Francis in Extasy, Rembrant’s self-portrait, and a few of Turner’s sea paintings. And as far as people go, I saw my illustrator friend Laura Carmelita Bellmont and writer Mary Jones.



I love the big city and I swear I left a piece of my heart in Brooklyn, but now I find the city equal parts inspirational and exhausting. So much to draw and so little time. Here are a few of my New York sketches. Mary is the one to the right on the bench. She let me stay in her fabulous Hell’s Kitchen apartment.

Then after eating myself sick on cupcakes and raw fish, I jetted over to Boston, picked up my parents and their adorable mutt Lilie and came back to Vermont – the land of cheese and honey to move into my apartment. I am officially worn out.

Nomad

Photos from my cross-country adventure.