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.

New and Improved

close ups from new poster for band Desoyl.









I posted new comix and illustrations!

Pictures from my epic solo voyage soon.

In Search of America

I am on a trans-continental voyage, just me and my car, Mr. Lady. Headed to Vermont from Portland Oregon. Epic journey, adventure, and cute girls. Camping, gambling, and singing through 3,000 miles of America (and perhaps a corner of Canada).

New comics and illustrations soon. For now, hold your horses.

Rat Girl Wants a Pony, Hobos Sleep Downstairs

This week: in the pits of despair, in the lap of . . . well, sometimes it’s better to be discreet. My dear old friend Miriam has been hopping trains up the west coast. She landed on my front porch Sunday, with friend Steve, smeared with brake grease and California dust.

In the evening of the next day, much caffeinated and inky, we visited Steve’s friend Ted. We drove up a quiet street of arts and craft houses and found a jungle where Ted’s house should have been. The lemon balm, blackberry, rose garden was climbing up and over the house. It spilled over onto the sidewalk on it’s way to the street. We crept through green tunnels and found the house. Ted lived upstairs with his good woman. Downstairs lived a family, friends of the upstairs folks. Kids ran around with pet rats, chickens scratched in the corner of the yard. We picked cherries and blackberries and purple-fingered, sat on the porch to smoke. I drew one of the wise children.



The Next day Ky and Luke swept down from the sky to a little Lebanese restaurant downtown. We scavenged unsuccessfully and performed experiments in authentic speech, which ends up looking rather like monkeys at play.

Meanwhile I have a new poster for a rock band. It’s been a good week. I’m exhausted.

Midstream

Here's a fun game. These two images are the same illustration. Can you spot the difference?





The first image will grace the cover of tomorrow's issue of Just Out. The latter will go the way of the unicorns.

I originally planned on the one with skulls and whatnot . . . then I had a total freak out.

I much prefer skulls and snakes. Honestly, give me skulls and snakes (of course with hot semi-naked girls) and I’m a happy camper. The thing is, the article is about the decline of the anti-gay movement.

Well, I’m from rural Texas. The town I grew up in had a population of 816. The cows far outnumbered the Baptists and Methodists that lived there. If you looked real hard, you found a few Catholics, which is what they called “diversity”. What I’m trying to say is that small town Texas is not exactly known for breeding tolerance and understanding of different lifestyles. I know a lot of people who view my gayness as immoral and I’ve been kinda close with people who are active in the anti-gay movement. In Texas voters approved a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage, it’s a hot button issue.

I think intolerance, the will to deny people rights, comes largely out of fear and a lack of experience with the unknown. I spent some time with my grandmother watching John Hagee, a prominent Baptist televangelist who’s pretty involved with the Zionist movement. I was shocked that such a hateful message was being telecast into people homes, and that my grandmother agreed emphatically with his views that homos are wicked sex-maniacs without conscience.

But I dearly love my grandmother. I love her caretaker with the big fat anti-gay bumper sticker. I love that old friend from junior high who I ran into and probed me on my love-life because she heard “these awful rumors”.

The point is, I got gun shy about such a negative image relating to the issue, and I don’t want to mis-represent anyone. The Just Out art director had already approved the skull sketch and he was not having the happy rainbow image, and with reason. So I cranked this illustration out in 24 hours flat without a wink, not a wink of sleep. I spose it serves me right for hesitating, trying to change course mid-stream, so to speak. But my intentions were honorable. Now, if I could just remember what they say about that road to that place paved with some things. Oh well, I’ve got to go get my draw on. This band Hookah Stew wants me to do a poster for them, and there will be skulls.

Overworked, Under-caffeinated

Don't get the wrong idea from the stitched-up blood-thirsty wolf. I'm just an old softie.



Hi darling. Thanks a heap for stopping by. Pull up a chair, have a cup of coffee (we make it strong here, puts hair on you chest).

I’ve just been sitting here in the chill Portland Summer, thinking of writing about:

1.great sex
2. Fame
3. Great strength
4. knowledge
5. Great power

(Great love?)

But since I have the pleasure of your company I’d rather hear about your day. How was work? How’s the family? Have you had any good dreams lately?

Hmmm . . . Not very talkative. I can handle it. Although I miss the sound of your voice. I could sit for hours while you read out of the phonebook, read Dante in latin, or tell me lies.

I could use some sleep.
I've been working on the COVER for Just Out magazine. How did I land the gig? Hell if I know. Onwards and upwards.

This I Believe

I believe the glass is half empty, because it was full before I drank those two fingers of gin.

I believe the children are our future . . . and so are surveillance cockroaches.

I believe that deep down, most of us are still the same person we were at thirteen.

I believe, quite foolishly, that if you want something bad enough, make sacrifices, and work hard you can get it. In college I had a roommate named Laura (house of a thousand Lauras, we called it. Would you like red-head Laura or Mohawk Laura?). She would always ask the universe for what she wanted: a mustached boy-toy, a job, an adventure. She always got it, and maybe still does. Me? I was petty, jealous of her magnetism, but I still ask: Dear Universe, How are you today? Thanks for the planet; it’s swell. You’ve been so generous and now I have a completely unreasonable request . . .

I believe that getting what you want is a mixed bag, but a mixed bag is better than no bag at all.

Nice Work if You Can Get It

Did a new poster for tapwater. Just in case anyone is interested, I am sooo willing to be exploited for my talent. Use me. Make me work for it, sugar.

Yesterday I went to the infusion room at my dad's oncologist. I am always surprised to see how life-affirming it is. In a place where everyone is facing death and illness and loneliness everyone is so kind. One woman was getting her final treatment and the nurses surprised her with confetti. A lesbian couple brought in miniature daschund puppies. They also raised a miniature dashund yorkie mix called dorkies (ridiculously adorable). Being human is a tough job, and it's good to see so many people rise to challenge.

Friction

I drew this on the porch of my old apartment. Gramps, this big hulking dog was bleeding all over the place from a war-wound he got in the dog park. And I was running around going “oh-my-god, do NOT get dog juice on my drawing!” Then gramps would shake his head and the blood was flying from his ripped ear.

Anyway, Robyn and her mom were good enough to sit for me. I’ve been trying to get this one right for a while. I had to get some real-life love and tension to put on the page. Family, you just can’t get away without being harnessed with a whole mess of baggage. I myself am going to Arizona this weekend to indulge in some inter-generational hostilities. I miss my mom and dad.

I found some notes from when I was reading Man and His Symbols:

Individuation is the process of self-realization, a natural and spontaneous process of the psyche. It can’t be taken completely in itself, because in order to mold or shape resistance is needed.

Resistance . . .
Like friction it can give you a little carpet burn or wear you down to a bloody nub.

But in the end I guess it’s the tough crap that makes you stronger. Can you tell I need a pep talk?

Oh well, I’m gonna watch some trashy tv. What’s on? I don’t care as long as there’s semi-nudity and conspicuous product placement.

Cosmic Lovin'

So, a few days ago, I was trolling the internet for pictures of astronauts and I found some intriguing information. Not to long ago French science writer Pierre Kohler wrote in his book, The Final Mission: Mir, The Human Adventure, that in 1996 NASA conducted a confidential study whose subject is closely guarded. The purpose of the study was to evaluate the mechanics of sex in zero gravity, perhaps preparing for an age when human space travel is more prolonged. It’s rumored that there are video recordings of test subjects screwing in a zero gravity chamber to find out what is and isn’t feasible. Apparently the missionary position is totally impractical. Zero gravity porn – your tax dollars at work.

Hey, I helped pay for it. Do you think I can get a copy?

Poster Design for Portland-based band Therapist.

Waiting to Exhale

Writing a graphic novel is not for the faint of heart. At least that’s the word on the street.

I've been working on the script for House of Vengeance for many months now. But I think this labor of love will bear fruit. It's tightly written and I think it will be delicious evil-fun to read.

I’ve got a few character sketches completed.

Marissa is a tough-as-nails southern girl. She’s getting a leg up in the world no matter who she has to climb over. Plus she has amazing hair.

Unreal Life

A cup of strong black coffee, the concrete troll under the Freemont St. bridge, a self-indulgent cry alone in a car, pulling faces to make a baby laugh, a fat brush dipped in black ink that drips messily.

These are the things holding me together.

Because suddenly I’m 2,500 miles from home. I’ve moved from limbo into the frenetic game of ultimate Frisbee that is “real” life.

I’m turning over a new leaf . . . again.

This weekend I ran off to the Emerald City Comic Con in Seattle. It was a great time. I showed off my work to a lot of people. I attended a few panels where I made irreverent drawings. There was one Q&A of particular interest about webcomics.

Webcomics are basically just comics published online. So far most of them are pretty similar to the stuff you read in a comic book, but the unique capabilities of the internet open up really exciting possibilities on how comic books can be made and read. Some people have monopolized on the idea by charging people to view their online comics, but the system isn’t very efficient. Most people publish online comics to gain readership or for kicks. But rest assured that as soon as large corporations figure out how to make a quick buck off of web comics, they’ll be everywhere.

Anyway, despite the politics, web comics are the cutting edge as far as comics are concerned and they open up some exciting possibilities.

All in all, I learned a lot at the comic con, especially about how to whore myself out. Ain’t nothing wrong with being an art prostitute.

Meanwhile I’m glad to be finishing up with all this traveling nonsense. I can get back in the studio and start cranking out the drawings. If I’m going to be as good as I think I can be, I’m going to have to be relentless.

Constant connectivity, an avalanche of information, global culture, the eco-apocalypse, or the second coming.

Welcome to the Modern world, strings attached, patent pending.



And what I want to know is: how should I respond to the hysterical race of the present into the future? Would it be better to raise goats and build a turf house in Canada, or should I join the Southern Baptist Church and try to evangelize the heathen masses?

Screw that. I’m jumping on the bandwagon and starting a blog.

And on this piece of intangible real-estate, wedged between pop-up ads, online shopping malls, and internet porn, I’ll write about my own adventures in comic book making as I try to produce something of real value in these perilous times. You heard me right, comic books, graphic novels, sequential art. Drawing is my great passion in life, and comic books are the way of the future.

But now, I’m going to take this opportunity to be self-indulgent and tell you a little about myself. No lies of course, but a few stretched truths and mis-remembered facts. Oh hell, what’s objective truth anyway?



My name is Laura Anne Terry: twenty-something, comic-book maker, lesbian, and curmudgeon. I was born in a small town, East Texas where the cows outnumbered the rednecks and the biggest act in town was a Dairy Queen. It’s beautiful country, quiet. The kind of place to raise kids, go jug fishing, and drink beer on the porch on Sundays.

And after a ten-year hiatus (Dallas, New York, Ireland) I moved back to deal with my own health problems, and I stayed because my father was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer. It hasn’t been easy, but I love my family.

Three years later, and my father is stable. It’s time for me to move on. Next week I’ll be moving to Portland, Oregon. I’ve wanted to move there for a while. I love almost everything about it and I think it’s the right place for me to break out onto the comic scene. I’m scared as hell, and I’m going to miss my family desperately, but I read something in a book that maybe explains it “ what you risk reveals what you value.”*

So that’s that. Introduction Over. A little self-indulgence goes a long way.

But don't change that dial!

Coming Soon: Beatrice Grayson’s House of Vengeance, selections from a work in progress by L.A. Terry. This crime/suspense graphic novel tells the twisted history of a Baltimore family as they are consumed by the untimely death and warped legacy of their matriarch Beatrice Grayson.

*quote by Jeanette Winterson