Blog
Monday April 30th 2012, 9:58 pm
I’ve been dreading and overheating, mostly due to panic and worry over story details. Coming up with ideas that seem cool, but when it comes to thinking them through as things progress, it becomes a matter of isolating what actually works or doesn’t. There are so many variables, sometimes the simplest choices affect the bigger idea in ways either profoundly beneficial or not so much. There is never enough room to convey every detail wanted. So then it becomes a bit of a turmoil over what stays or goes without feeling like something important or of a weight is sacrificed. Causing the plan to be shortchanged in unwanted ways. This also gets really nerve-racking when trying out different things, experiments, because you never know how effective something is until the final product. So sometimes it feels like flying a little blind. But I suppose doing anything creative is like that to some degree, even if certain, that doesn’t mean anyone else will be certain over the choices made. But the trick to being a creative person is to never stop trying new things or ideas. Even if something didn’t work as hoped, it does not invalidate the doing of it. Its always better to have reached for something outside the box than to keep the lid on.
Reconciling With Steady Imagination
April 30th 2012
Sunday April 29th 2012, 9:35 pm
Rounded chrome pressed flatly, and usually trusted to perform as expected. But no! We get skipping and flittering in aggravated blips of blocky looking bands of static green and white malfunction. Sticking the features frozen in time, with slight waving vibrations giving distortion halos to the points of interest, provoking a perturbed atmosphere on this leisurely warm afternoon. I was all prepared to kick my feet up to enjoy a particular piece of entertainment. Not in the cards I guess. Bummed and inwardly, a private little tantrum built of my own momentary immaturity. I suppose my inner child was let down today, but acts as a good cause for self deprecation and levity. Well, piss!
Stupid DVD Defect!
April 29th 2012
Saturday April 28th 2012, 11:31 pm
Kicked up dust flooding my nasal passage, and my throat feels murky. Sifting through too many boxes piled up, of stuff easily forgotten about. All nice little hidey hole canyons for scurrying critters, home for pests and spiders in the dark nooks and crannies. Chuffed and annoyed, but we’ve got to drudge through it. Left too long, one of those things that is always intended to get done, but never seems to happen until we can’t stand it anymore. Only seems to be dealt with about once a year, pretty lame. Its amazing how much stuff stacks up when tossed to the side to be decided on later. Some of it keen family items with half faded unwanted memories attached, while the others we are hard pressed to remember why they were saved at all. Bewildered how much musty dust, grimy cobwebs, and dried old leaves accumulate, but causing disappointment to realize just how bad it was allowed to be when sweeping up. Makes me feel lazy and gray. Swooshing the broom, unhealthy plumes wafting into the air, trying to avoid breathing any of it in.
Fluffing The Garage
April 28th 2012
Saturday April 28th 2012, 1:57 pm
Bleary eyed and beyond overextended. Burning at both ends, the candle has almost melted away into nothing. The dripping wax evaporates into wisps of intangibility, and my mind goes with it all. So focused on the task in front of me I let the clock pass me in the race. My eyes are numb. I finally look up, the bright glorious sun awakening the day. Oh hell, I’ve been it all night, sleepy time…
Sighhh…ZzzzzzzzSnortZzzzzSnrtzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz………Snrrmmhh…stretch
It’s now afternoon as I stumble into the office, yawning from grogginess, sit down in the old creaking purple chair, and realize something is missing, this blog from yesterday…
Slipping Away In Forgetfulness
April 27th 2012
Thursday April 26th 2012, 9:45 pm
Spilled upon rudely, the complexion of them both is blotched and stained. There is a complaining creak when either pivots or shifts from side to side, sounding weary of seemingly never-ending duty. Companions through thick and thin, with worn patches of cloth, their skin, that reveal spongy squishy innards. Ripped holes and sinewy like strands that crisscross on these inflictions. Their bodies are only thin lengths of steel, and very rarely paid attention to. Each of them use five legs, extending outward in the shape of a pentacle, an appropriate shape when considering they protect against slipping or tipping. They’ve seen so many vivid things, and witness to light or heavy hearted conversations. Quietly listening to decisions made with ease of mind, or occasionally bursts of frustration. Some things were joyous, while others probably shouldn’t be mentioned in polite company. But overall they share in leading a mundane existence. Remaining always vigilant at their stations, ready to be called up for steady action of numerous variety at a moments notice. Their job is to only provide support, such a simple task really, and so they sit in this without any pride or arrogance. They just simply are, but with the occasional lamenting creak.
The Simple Story Of The Purple Chairs
April 26th 2012
Wednesday April 25th 2012, 8:39 pm
Overly warm, yet drearily grey, thick and sticky. The atmosphere is heavy and fatigued. It drains energy and flattens thinking, raising agitation. When its so…viscous, it becomes a pain in the ass. What should be smooth and clean attempts to blot, even in this relatively artificial environment of filtered air. My skin sticks to everything, never good when doing what I do. The refined paper and inks react dramatically, differently, causing frustrations. Fortunately we don’t deal with this kind of climate regularly, just often enough to annoy. I find it so bothersome feeling that I ponder how other people, where this is the norm, live comfortably, especially an artist. The tools and materials we use are always so easily susceptible to our surroundings. Yeah, I’m grumbling over the air! But on the upside, today we got some good news for the book. Elation, balancing out my mood.
Humidity As A Conundrum
April 25th 2012
Tuesday April 24th 2012, 8:57 pm
Tasks can be very deceiving, especially when it comes to doing art. I mean in estimating just how long something should take. I find that I tend to jinx myself. Whenever I estimate how long something will be to accomplish, or how difficult it will be, it never quite works the way I anticipate. I’ll step back, look at what I’m doing, and say to myself “What the hell! Why is this not looking right, or I can’t believe how long this has taken for what I see on the board in front of me.” Its all very confusing at times. And there is nothing more frustrating than thinking something will be quick, and then its far from that in reality. Always adding to that sensation that I’m at war with Time. Perceptions of time get so easily distorted, as if it functions outside rational thought and proper physics. It is always intriguing to me when thinking about the fact that astronauts age slightly differently while zooming around in orbit. Really showing how flexible perceptions of reality and time are. I feel like something similar takes place when in deep concentration on something, on a task like drawing. Time seems to move so much faster than it does during other parts of my daily life. Leaving me with the feeling that there just is never enough time each day.
Time Suckage And Diminished Satisfaction As A Result
April 24th 2012
Monday April 23rd 2012, 7:44 pm
Punched up! Ragged and aggressive. Lacerating expectations from a dozen perspectives. Harsh and gravely with riffs that hit simply with sledgehammer force. But then there are the moments of pure captivation, revealing true genius beneath the lovely wretched landscape of rocked melodic craters from anthems orchestrated to rip apart infrastructure. Leaving gaping holes in any frailty the psyche may have left. This pumps up adrenaline to levels high enough that one can no longer be contained. Stillness is destroyed gloriously through a razor sharp electric charge. It sucks me under, but I go willingly. It won’t settle for less.
Tumbling Over For The Plasmatics Again
April 23rd 2012
Sunday April 22nd 2012, 9:08 pm
An easy toss through munching teeth, crisp, delicately handled by grasping fingers. Exquisite in it’s crunch and crackle, there is something savory about the flavor but a half sweetness peering through the smooth robust salt of the creamy butter. My favorite way to accentuate it is with a little garlic and parmesan. It makes for thee perfect snack for a marathon of geekly catching up or getting reacquainted with super heroic cinema-graphic adventures. Some candy to the senses, thoughtfully done but uncomplicated to digest, and just…fun. All in preparation for the next big installment to cross theatrical screens, that looks oh so damn enticing that I can’t help but smile broadly.
Popcorn Day In The Home
April 22nd 2012
Saturday April 21st 2012, 9:17 pm
There is nothing quite like the feeling of hearing from an old friend that hasn’t been in contact in a long while. A combination of heartwarming sensation and sadness for the time distance that has occurred, its bittersweet. We all live such busy lives these days, time races past us. Its that not any of us set out to purposely allow so much time to pass without communicating, between work, family, or living in different cities, it just sort of happens. Its that same war with Time that I’ve been yammering on about on occasion. It can make it hard to keep up with those we care about. Yet there is a joy all the same, in hearing news, some good, some bad, but always a high when reconnecting. Sharing in that each of us has continuously had the other in their thoughts, regardless of the lack of meeting and conversing. There is love in there, in the desire that remains to hold friendships dear and close, that it matters. In knowing that we each always wish for the best in life.
Catching Up To Jeromy
April 21st 2012
Friday April 20th 2012, 11:12 pm
Reflections of a day that seems to have vanished before my very eyes. Numerous accomplishments unfulfilled, but all grinding toward their inevitable end. And yet, while under this menagerie of tasks, the possibility of another new exciting one comes my way. Something completely unexpected, but so want to do it now. Or is just a trick that Mister Time has enticed me with to further bog me down? There must be a key to winning this war of Slipping By.
On The Horizon Of Tomorrow
April 20th 2012
Thursday April 19th 2012, 9:57 pm
Itchy, scratchy, my eyes roll in grit. They are fatigued, making it hard to see clearly as I battle onward. Slinging my arsenal as efficiently as possible. The light blue energy lines of my sketch pencil, wielded with powerful bold jabs. The black slick liquid arcing across from my weapon of choice, the Raphael number 2 glides with accuracy for smooth attacks. My enemy affronts me, digitized manipulation of counting, using unseen arms of measurement to deflect my efforts to fully realize my goals. My adversary is cunning, speeding up machinations when I’m not looking, while I focus deeply, pressing on in my strategy. This damned bandit seems to be always just seconds ahead of my every prod and prick of the clash. I must prevail. I must overcome.
The War With Mister Time Wages On
April 19th 2012
Wednesday April 18th 2012, 9:18 pm
The climate of trust. It can be a tricky thing sometimes. Trusting in one’s own sense of worth, or in one’s own abilities. In that things can work out just fine even if it feels like it might not. In most cases things do work out. Trust can cause disappointments. It can be frustrating when you feel someone has lack of trust in you, when its unwarranted. Or making you feel that there is not trust in your capabilities. It can leave you with a sense of self doubt. Or giving you the impression that they believe deep down you’ve got some hidden agenda to get something over on them. And then there’s the flipside, trusting in someone else to have integrity, in the way they handle interactions with you. Trust is a complicated issue. Primarily due to not being able to be in another person’s head. But what I find is that when someone seems to have little trust in you without good reason, it makes you question whether you should trust in them. Because it can be hard to feel positive about that person who would think about you in such a negative way. Just one of the many notions about human behavioral conditions that cross my mind. This can play into how characters can interact within the context of a story. Different scenarios bringing out different aspects.
Trust Not To Trust
April 18th 2012
Tuesday April 17th 2012, 9:16 pm
Rambling and chaotic, and reeling. Jumbled up and twirling. No clear sense of coherency, or focus. Nothing insightful or intelligent. Just meandering disparate notions. Like something is there but then slips past in a flash, no detail to be gleaned. Fragments of ideas that are incomplete. My thoughts are just the idea of thoughts. Sometimes its good to be clear of thought, simplified, but this isn’t that. This is… uncomfortable. I really dislike when I’m like this. But every now and then, there feels like an emptiness in my head, or rather empty of anything relevant or structured, just static, white noise per se. There is only the images on the board in front of me as I work. I never quite know why this occurs, just that its annoying. Because it feels like a malfunction.
Blank Brain
April 17th 2012
Tuesday April 17th 2012, 12:12 am
Obsidian and snaking, skirting the floors and ceilings, with dozens of spindly legs. Hissing shadows of deathly intent as they march from all directions, encircling, hunting. They are bred from nothing, but made of darkness. Brought forth of the mind’s eye from nightmarish caverns made of dank etched mildew stained stones of a long ago mythical era culled from unreality that exists within ink soaked papers.
Creeping Things Seeping From My Imagination
April 16th 2012
Monday April 16th 2012, 1:17 am
A Sunday excursion today. We drove up to Sacramento for the afternoon/evening to meet up with our friend Dean Haglund (an actor/comedian), google him if you don’t know his work. He had invited us up to a screening of his documentary film recently produced, called The Truth Is Out There. Very appropriate for him from the types of shows and films he’s acted in, such as X-Files. Dean is one of our favorite people, always enthusiastic, openhearted, and has great stories to tell. Example, Chris Carter, creator of the X-Files, intently telling him not to do sci-fi conventions because the show isn’t science fiction, but rather its science probability. Funny, considering good sci-fi always presents probabilities, and quite often predicts real invention. It was great to see him face to face, it had been way too long. We had some decent BBQ for a meal, while getting caught up on stuff. Then we went to the film. Very interesting. It involves interviews with people who’ve got various conspiracy theories running. But what ultimately was fascinating about it all, was it’s examination of Truth. Instead of purporting these various theories as factual, the film becomes about peering into other people’s personal truths. Showing how much truth isn’t necessarily fact, or even prescribed theory accepted by one individual from another. It became more about the personalities, the people, but without judging them. That their stories are valid ones, even if us viewers might, or might not believe what the story is about. And along the way we get to see Dean in various aspects of his life as he travels to meet these people, and we get exploration of his psyche, of his inner truths as he is interviewed by a psychotherapist. Getting a chuckle when we saw him wearing a t-shirt design of mine from some years back in a couple segments of the film. But the film’s explorations on Truth became profound ones, not too heavy, but presented with thought. There is something to this, that truths are very much a deeper reveal about each person, on who they are, what makes them unique, just how diverse our interpretations of the world around us are. Instead of the film becoming complicit in these theories, or debating them, it was about exploring humanity, the condition of psyche versus perceptions, to listen. And manages to do so without painting these people as caricatures.
Truth Is Relative
April 15th 2012
Saturday April 14th 2012, 8:22 pm
Matte warm gray, squarely encompassed in fine textured wooden black. Contained within, presented for all who visit, luxuriously soft, delicate but assured craftsmanship. It subtly attracts with suppleness, mesmerizing shapes, simple sex appeal without judgement. Rendered against a plain beige, and perfectly poised use of negative space. The warm tone of the paper, in combination with the smoothness of form, somehow can make me feel cozy. When studied, anyone would be hard pressed not to become enamored with the subject as revealed by a master’s eye, capturing the essence of female beauty. The work is luscious and silky. Silk, just a the perfect word to describe what he does. Ironic to a degree, considering his name, an artist with his moniker was born to illustrate oh so seductively.
The Jim Silke Pencil Drawing That Lives In Our Hallway
Friday April 13th 2012, 11:04 pm
Almost tantamount to being a sacred offering. Gooey and stringy, saucy, mouth watering in anticipation. The savoriness is overwhelming, temporarily obliterating any sense of desire for anything but what sits in front of you. Lizard brain fully engaged, and gorging on sumptuous delights. Ingredients that collide into a zest for life. Spread across a bed of perfectly textured crispness and slightly crunchy on the underside, while the middle remains squishy and chewy. Lizard brain teeth relishing the sensation of tearing into that breaking away pull of the crust. Cured meats, mushrooms, and raw tomato, our favorite choice, a taste that is so good you crave but so rich you have to force yourself to be deprived, so its not partaken too often. There is nothing like a “pie” from Tary’s. Inspiring a friend who has been introduced to it’s glories this very night, to simply expound…”ohhh…this is sooo gooood…” An understatement at best. We lovingly refer to it as Pizza Of The Gods, birthed every day in a little town near us, family run since before memory. There is no true understanding of what pizza is supposed to be until you’ve had this.
Devoured Happily
April 13th 2012
Thursday April 12th 2012, 9:22 pm
Just as shown before, I’ve broken this down into the basic stages. I plan on doing the next post like this a little more comprehensively for cover 12. But for now Batwoman 11’s cover…
Rough crude sketch version, for editorial approval..
The black and white version. I ended up making alterations to the art at the next stage…
The color version. After completing the digital color work I felt the semi-transparent Medusa snake emblem no longer worked as going over the top of the villain’s warping fleshy face. So I went in with photoshop and eliminated parts and redrew parts. The end result is much more effective for the color version. What I find odd about it is that in black and white it worked as I had it just fine. This shows how adding color can change the dynamics…
Logo and credits version…
Thursday April 12th 2012, 9:12 pm
BOOM! THOOM! BOOM! But this time it is not pain in my head. THOOM! Reverberating and rumbling and shaking the windows. Coincidences of mood, atmospherics, surreality and reality. Darkening of the sky into charcoal grey, with touches of greenish murky blues. And at the same time images being conceived of an all consuming black across the white working surface that my hands fervently toil along. The heavens release a pummeling, oppressively heavy and loud, while imagining a downpour of dark, creepy crawly things. They destroy all light, inciting fear and spiraling all in stygian descent. It feels as if my little part of the world is in unison with the story unfolding. The very air is thick and charged electric. BOOM again, THOOM!
Wailing Storms Built Of Shadow Things
April 12th 2012
Thursday April 12th 2012, 1:26 pm
Batwoman #8 is out this week.
Still tough going for our cast, and their crossing lives.
We knew going into this arc was going to be challenging, an experiment of sorts with structure. Even though the events happen in linear order for each character, each character’s story beats are on their own timeframe, but inform a bigger picture. Everything is moving forward, not backwards and then forwards. The only plot element separate from this is the “now” scenes featuring Batwoman in the final battle that bookend each issue. The moment that every other story beat is catching up to. We realize that it can be easy to focus on the timestamp caption, but when following the plot elements, it all connects up as the arc progresses.
But just to twist it, frustrating us, we have a glaring typo that slipped by everyone, and I mean EVERYONE working on this book. And it unfortunately causes some confusion of when the events take place.
Just simply replace the Chase’s Story “one week ago” caption, with “six nights ago” instead. Since that is clearly the same night as Maggie’s Story scene. Its an unfortunate error that went by when proof reading. But ya know, things happen mistakes can get missed. But I felt it would be wise to post a clarification.
This issue sees the third installment from Amy Reeder’s art, here is her atmospheric cover for this issue…
Wednesday April 11th 2012, 10:51 pm
Meanderings today. The maze spread wrapped this morning, scanned and sent off. Partly satisfied with the results, a fine experiment with little nibbles of fun for the eye to spot. A small sense of relief now that it’s finished. But my headache is still here, comes and goes like tides of a stormy sea. I feel a bit creatively low for various reasons, things that are hard to put into words actually. I get pretty upset when thinking on it, so I do my best not to. But at the same time I feel creatively high with the results of the new pages. I get so intent on this stuff, on work, caring very much about what comes of it. I need to balance it out, lighten up. Wednesday night round table discussions down at the shop on what is coming up in the offerings from Diamond Previews are always boisterous, earnest but relaxing, just the ticket. Some exciting stuff soon available, Iron: Or The War After for example, and the return of Mars Attacks. Inner giddiness grips me, Joe Golem is out today.
A Small Break Doing The Geek Thing
April 11th 2012
Tuesday April 10th 2012, 11:39 am
Our car has broken down and we’re in a quiet panic. It’s dusk, but somehow there is enough ambient light from somewhere that we can see the paved road to the side of our beat up and damaged vehicle. The warm gold light dimly reflecting off of the cracking black tar and gravel. We’re sitting in the car, unmoving, off the side of the road slightly. Looking out through grimy spotted windows, that we’re insistent to keep rolled up, watching a herd of fifty to a hundred undead marching past. They drone on in subtle moans and gnashing teeth, their feet scraping the pavement as they sort of slide them along staggeringly. I feel a twinge of sadness as I note some of them individually. Picturing the lives lost, that have now gone to this horrid existence. One, a young woman, wearing just a simple white nightgown, now sullied into a murky gray. Her straggling hair, long and dark. Her face still somehow manages to show she had been youthful. I’m so saddened by her.
Then I notice a small child, I think it’s a boy, but hard to tell, he’s stepping on to ride a bicycle. But something about him seems different than the others, more direct of purpose, more alive. Thats when it becomes apparent that we’re in this car with other people as one of them calls out, proudly saying the boy is their son. That he and the other kids have figured out a way to move among the walking corpses unseen. They point out that the boy is wearing a disguise. I look more intently as he gets ready to kick off on his bike. He’s got on black clothing that appears to be thick but wrapped around his body. He also wears a crudely made mask of what I think is gauze and paper mache, with holes carved for eyes and mouth. He’s also got a big floppy hat on. Red paint encircles the mask openings a bit cartoonishly, like a twisted clown. For some unfathomable reason this get up is making it so the horde of human flesh eaters don’t pay attention to him at all.
Time shifts. We’re holed up in some convenience store, packages of junk food litter the floors. The sun is bright outside, like summer. We’ve been living in here for awhile now. Our group is roughly twenty people, and the relationships are precarious. Everyone’s got their eye on everyone else, on guard for changes. Some of us have been changing into those vile things for unknown reasons, like an illness, a virus spreading. There is a dog with us, of some mixed breed, large and the color of foamy root beer, and a sweet temperament. We’re all very ragged, and tired. I feel itchy and scummy. How wonderful a simple shower would be.
Time shifts again. I find myself waking up to someone screaming. The light is on overhead and the door is closed. I’m in a very cramped maintenance closet, full of boxed supplies. There is shiny metal grated shelving to either side of me, with white cloths, stacks of paper towels, numerous other items. To one corner there is an old moldy mop and bucket. The floor has a dirty worn out backpack, frumpy blankets tossed, my bedding. I’m jolted to attention by another scream. The sound of an insane screeching banshee to my ears. Its much louder now, then suddenly a forceful blow to the other side of the door. More crazy wailing, incoherent, nothing discernible, just wild vocal abandon. The door slams from another blow, then pounding, rapid forceful pounding. The door creaks from the tension against it. My heart is in my throat, pounding in unison with every slam against the door. Suddenly the door rips open, splintering the jamb. And barreling at me is some screeching long haired large woman, her blue eyes wide and lost, and covered completely in dripping bright crimson red.
Sleeping Visions From Another Dimension 3
April 10th 2012
Monday April 09th 2012, 8:08 pm
Delicately light, yellows and black, sharply shaped but yet with soft rounded edges. The patterns of the gliding surfaces catch the eye, you can’t help but to follow its trajectory. Only about five to six inches across from tip to tip, it floats along with seemingly haphazard focus, but remains somehow graceful as if dancing just for itself. Flirting with the golden sunlight on this warm afternoon, it bops from bloom to bloom with indecision, but then rapidly darting away as if suddenly very sure of something, of some unknown want or need. You can see why humans long ago associated them with being fairies, as they are alluring, pleasing tiny angelic things.
Butterfly In A Spring Garden
April 9th 2012
Sunday April 08th 2012, 5:13 pm
Captivating like a cool ocean breeze pushing its way through the streets between towering metropolitan skyscrapers. But not too briskly paced, and just the right amount of subtle nuance to remain slick and precise. Thoroughly addictive in its smooth shots of depth and plot developments. Almost bitterly sexy, orchestrated storytelling painted in bygone palettes, bringing characters that all seem to have some kind of compelling neurosis driving them that we feel no guilt in our voyeurism here and now. Immersing our ourselves into another time and place, that manages to find interesting ways to comment on modern life that we all can relate to in some form. It leaves us begging for more.
Easter MadMen Marathon
April 8th 2012