Sunday, March 26, 2017

Segue Panache

When I originally departed the comic book industry, I had a vision that I'd spend my days sitting on a front porch, sucking down iced coffees, while listening to the soul caressing melodies of Miles. 

But, apparently, that wasn't meant to be.

Having worked non-stop for the past year, I'm now on the verge of becoming like that proverbial goldfish, who will eat continously until it dies. But, I do have enough sense left in me (barely), to know it's time I truly stepped away from the fray.

At least for a bit.

With my mini-comic thing being completed, and about to be sent off to press, and the Store as fully stocked as it is, I'm going to focus on staring at the wall, and watching the paint peel.

Well, that's the intent.

For all I know, I'll be neck deep in ink in two days after the yelling in my head grows to a level that makes my ears bleed.

T.

Thursday, March 9, 2017

Just Around the Corner

Being creative should, in itself, be a defiance of the rules. 
No matter who says otherwise.
Because what I create is an expression of my rebellious self.
I draw whatever the hell is burning to be revealed, that it becomes so overwhelming, I can't work fast enough to get it out and onto the page.
At least, that's how I personally think art, in all its forms, should be. And not because it's going to be “liked,” or sell thousands, or be made into a crappy film, or any of the other countless ways personal integrity gets cemented over in favor of corporate-minded intent and purpose.
Point being, I never think “is this going to be a hit?” 
Or, “is this going to make me rich/famous/popular?”
Fact is, I really could give a rat’s ass about all that.
I just work.
Create.
Write.
Draw.
Paint.
Scratch.
Scribble.
Hell, I'll grab a friggin’ stick and find some sand, for Chrissakes.
And only THEN do I figure out what to do with it.
Not the other way around.
I remember this young girl who was being interviewed about what she wanted to be when she grew up. Without pausing after being asked, she responded with . . . “famous.” 
That pretty much sums up the way things are these days.
Typical.
The truth is, typical is stagnation. 
And stagnation is artistic death.
Which leads me to my present work in progress.
I've decided to go in an entirely new direction, and start producing my own self-published mini comic(s).
Well, a “comic” might not exactly be what this thing is.
It's more like . . . a box of Lucky Charms cereal, minus the lame-o cereal bits.
All crazy-ass marshmallows.
Without a single solitary storyline, it's unlike anything I've done before. 
It's more a mixed-bag of non-consecutive sequences that are dictated by wherever the ink feels like going.
Meaning, I'm dumping every loose screw in my chaotic head out onto the pages, with absolutely zero rules, and even less limitations.

I'll have the first issue ready for my forthcoming con appearances, and then available through my Red Star Store afterwards.

T.