![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
So now I'm foregoing the freelancers prayer, all I need is an apple-head chihuahua,it doesn't even have to be a pure breed, just so long as it's cute and small and tawny, because apparently if it's any other color except tawny or tawny and white it's not a chihuahua to an 8 year old. SIGGGHHHH... did I say I was having a hard year?
Recently I've come across a notice that my high school was having a reunion. I thought about going, but what would be the point? All the people that I'd really want to see I know I'll probably never see again. I spent my anxious years in Florida when death metal was new. That was my crowd, not the most enterprising or industrious lot. I didn't have many friends. Like most I was an awkward and uncomfortable kid. My home life was a mess, we were poorer than my Mother realized. Always, always I wrote and I drew. I wasn't pretty enough to date (I'm still not,heh!) but I remember that funny innocent puppy love I silently shared for a year with a boy I walked two miles home with in junior high school. He'd carry my books between class for no reason he ever put to voice. We whiled hot days listening to Dio and Metallica. Once my Mom drove us to an AC DC concert where state troopers stood armed with shot guns in the rafters. My hearing was gone for almost two days after. The extent of our intimacy was on paper where we wrote what's now called fan fiction to our favorite anime, Robotech. He killed my best-loved character. My heart broke into a million crazy, confused, pieces when he moved away. I'll never see him again.
High School proper. I spent the summer before LAMENTING that I had signed up for ROTC. I was afraid of the boot camp because I was never particularly good at obstacle courses. Turns out I worried for nothing. I loved every minute from the mile run in combat boots to rifle meets and 9 week reviews. I met my best friend in Art, I think, it's hard to remember because I found all of the classes terribly boring no matter what they were. I know he sat behind me and he drew too. For the next three years we were like brother and sister. Do you know when a guy is comfortable with you? When he's not guarded about showing you his gross side. On our first non-date out he was so polite, eating like a bird, choking on his burps. A month later he's making no bones about ripping up the room with farts. So gross. We talked about anything and everything. Who we were crushing on, our morbid fascination with death. We crossed that barrier from teenager to young adult together buddies, homies, he knew more about me than I did at that point. When our respective flowers were finally picked guess who was the first to get all of the juicy details? Funny, I was very careful. He wasn't even after we rode bikes up to Kmart under a punishing sun to buy condoms. Things changed after that. I was slowly replaced. I could feel us pulling apart with every poignant confession as he came to terms with the consequences he'd face with a mature resolve. We drove out to the flea market that used to be our stomping ground on a whim trying to recapture those good old days when all we cared about were comic books and the next concert (we saw Sepultura when they were still skinny). I didn't know I had feelings for him until the day he hugged me. I didn't know then it was our good bye. I'll never see him again.
I spent my sophomore year practically stalking the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. He had long dirty blond hair, and a scar from a cleft palate, and he could grow a full scruffy beard! To this day he remains a frozen ideal of physical perfection in my mind although I can't recall his face. I would write about him in my gifted english journal and, of course, I told my best friend. Once I was invited to a slumber party. Only the once as a cruel prank that backfired on the girls who asked me there, long story, but they got me to confess who I had a crush on. By then I knew his name, age, and even how he got home. That monday I was mercilessly teased in school, but it rolled off my back. I was well seasoned to taunts by then. There was precious little a bunch of flimsy girls could do to rattle me, and whoa-be-tide if I ever did get upset. I wasn't beyond jumping on someone, but I digress. That monday was also the day I decided to talk to my crush. I caught up with him on his way out of the school. I said "Hey, I know your name." He smiled and said "Oh yeah?" That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. We didn't have a single class together. We met at our lockers and wrote notes back and forth which I kept like treasures. I liked to tickle my palm with the scruff on his chin and I'd pout when he shaved. One day I forgot to notice and he made sure to write to me that he didn't appreciate my not mentioning that he had shaved. I guess he liked the attention. After graduation we lost touch for a while. When I ran into him again in a mosh pit at a concert a few years later we instantly recognized each other even though we had physically changed. I remember that pause in our tracks, that crack of lightning and how the whole hall seemed to fall silent. We only spoke occasionally after that, in spite of our best intentions. He played in a band and I went to a few of his gigs. I had to walk a mile to the pay phone to call him. See, I had finally found my first Boyfriend. It was easier to settle for someone who I had no history with, someone who didn't like me at all and wasn't afraid to show it over risking my heart. I only know that now in hindsight; but I'd walk that mile to call my crush who wasn't my crush by then. One day he told me that he had a wet dream about me. I was flattered and excited. Finally! Feelings reciprocated but still un-acted upon. Closer than I had ever been to love out loud. We never spoke to or saw each other again.
I left Florida shortly after that with literally a duffle bag and a guitar. Yes, I used to play and I still have my old Fender Strat. I came to NYC to find my Mother who had left long ago and to pursue a truly unobtainable dream, A CAREER IN COMICS! I lost my friends and any connection I had with the past. It's like something that happened to someone else. I have friends now who still connect with their high school group. I envy them. I can only imagine what that must feel like. How would it be to get to say to someone who really knew me when "See? I made it." and to know what they're doing. I don't dare go back. My crowd was on the fringe. They don't strike me as the type to be nostalgic about anything. I question why it's welling out of me tonight. I don't think that anyone remembers me at all much less fondly. I'm like a Drake. Someone who just appeared one day out of no where with no past or any proof of one. Normal thoughts of nothing, I guess. One last curious look back because I don't want to be right about the heading of this entry.
I'm debating if I should release the preview issue of Yume and Ever. I drew it quickly a while ago and it's rather unlike the other issues. It's a story from the middle of the entire title with a lot of dark comedy. I drew it because I was trying to see if it was possible to do a whole book on my own. I learned a lot mostly that I really could do it. The style of art is a bit different, I tried new things. Things I might now necessarily do again in the series. It really was fun to do. I just don't know if it's good for the book.
It's frustrating waiting to print the second issue. Why are things getting more expensive in this bad economy?? Just when i think I have enough saved BOOOM! The price jumps up. I'm constantly playing catch up and that leaves room for second guessing. I've actually added a page to the book and tweaked others. It's got to stop!
... I'm running low on paper.
I know there are tons and tons of comic paper available. Much more so these days since we're experiencing a boom of sorts and many paper mills are pressing their own brand of 2 ply, pre lined, bristol board so even ol' Blue line (which I was never fond of) isn't the only game in town anymore. For years I have purchased the same stock that Marvel does. It's called Marvel Special one pass. A Strathmore 500 series bristol that's only been "passed" through once, thus the name. The surface is like drawing on butter, rather inking on it most especially when it's raw, not pre-lined like I get it when I work for Marvel. The process of lining it sometimes ruins the surface so that ink blushes on it, very annoying. I was a very happy camper for a long time until a little over a year ago when I went to place my order with Plaza only to find out that A.I. Friedman would be carrying it instead. No problem, I just asked for the new store's address and mozied on down. That was how the count down to the end I'm now facing began. The new store inherited the paper, they didn't even know what it was, why they had it, and who would be ordering it. Neither Marvel or Dark Horse hadn't reordered yet so I was the first to ask for it. They didn't even know how to cut it down to get the 3 board out of the one sheet. Fine, I knew and I was glad to help. I brought my paper and went home to find it TOTALLY DIFFERENT! It wasn't the store's fault. A new mill was pressing the paper and they didn't have too much experience with it. I sent samples of the new stock and the old stock to them and they did see that it was off. I was thanked and then I was kicked in the ass. The paper was supposedly recalled and a new batch was sent. Even though I placed my order I had to wait weeks to get the new paper, only to find that it wasn't any different than the defective stock.
My one pass has never been the same. I've resupplied when necessary, using the new paper on work but not Yume and Ever pages. Every single page I've done has been a lesson in penance. I destroy expensive brushes and pens. It's like a prize fight every time I have to ink. Just a few weeks ago I finally told the store that there's still a problem. I held tongue all this while because I didn't want to be accused of darkening anyone's door with problems again; but, the damn paper's not right. It's too expensive to accept in it's condition. I've worked on it long enough to know it by touch and sight alone. There is only one distributor and one store to buy it in and they both hate my guts. I wouldn't be at all surprised if I was deliberately being sold the ruined stock that was supposed to have been recalled.
So I'm on a count down, I have only sheets of the last order that was good left and I'm saving them for my own book. I'm already sad because once they're gone I'm going to have to hunt for a replacement. I've already started to test different stocks, but so far no good.
an addendum:
Well! So we have seen Obama in a swimsuit! Well shut my mouth. How about Mc Cain? Biden? Bush I saw in crocs. I recently brought a pair because I went to a meeting in heels in the rain. I could've cut my two feet off they were hurting so bad after the 1/2 mile walk to the restaurant. I had no choice but to stop in the Disney store and buy whatever they had for shoes (that'll learn me). I still don't think they look good on anyone except kids.
But there is light here...
...If ever I was about to lose it it would've been the night of my last entry. It was bad, I tell you. Hard to describe, but something kept telling me to get up. I had to get up and go back to my desk and finish. So I did and it got better. Nothing really changed but I did what I was supposed to do. I kept my word and met my deadline. There will always be bad patches and assholes. They don't get to win. I'll get up and move on, that won't change.
I hate my life................. I'm sorry for every choice I've ever made that has led me to this. I hate art in all it's forms and I wish to God that I had other skills. I'm weak and dependent on this. It is truly a hell of my own creation. The alternative, well there is no alternative. I've been told gently that it's quite unrealistic of me to think I could make it on my own. Creator own projects fail for the big boys what do I think would happen to me, a small insignificant, nobody? It's much better for me to have a steady gig. I'm one of the lucky ones. SO I swallow my pride and sell my soul. I don't know why I'm here
There was a day when pencilers just penciled. The Bullpen handled the scanning and naming conventions and such. Now I'm spending hours @ the computer scanning and starting the clean up on every page I do. For one pretty little project I have to use a damn near possible naming convention that has me searching through a huge pdf for what pages each individual picture goes. I'd be less bitchy if I could have a day off, but that's not on the schedule until December 16th. Yes, you heard me right. Not one day off, 20 hours a day, penciling, inking, scanning, cleaning every day started in june and continuing on 'til christmas. I'm writing this more so for me so that I can face reality with dignity. So far I have met every deadline and I feel okay. NO naps, but I do slow down a bit around 11-3. That's where I should be really working the hardest so that perhaps I can go to bed earlier. My poor boy had been locked up in this apt. I feel very guilty. He wants me to play with him, but I can't and it breaks my heart. I hope he understands that this is ultimately for him, but I guess he won't. He'll remember all the times he was brushed aside and dragged to boring offices. He won't let anyone take him outside without me, he becomes "difficult" so here we sit together in our gilded cage trying to stay the course.
I'm lamenting the loss of San Diego. I was looking forward to going. It's a very big convention and I need to do more for my book, but work is piled too high and the cost of it and the fact that rooms are hard to come by without paying an arm and a leg. I have to be realistic. Baltimore is closer and more doable so I'll plan for that. I'm feeling a bit burnt out and I'm hearing the siren's song of how hard it is to do a project alone. How there's no pay off, and how it's so much easier to just settle in and work for others. That's all well and good but it's not satisfying. I may not be as able or as excited as I was when I first started but it's given me a sense of worth that I didn't have before. I wouldn't trade that for the best work-for-hire project in the world.
I'm gonna paint this along with the third and fourth issue's covers in my spare time.
The ones I found disturbing were the attempts to discredit Slam Dunk! I never read the manga but the examples that were shown were not plagiarized. I think a book about basketball should look like people playing basketball. The Artist should do his homework before he starts to draw so that the audience is put in mind of the feel of real basketball. As much as I enjoyed Gun Smith Cats back in the day ('til it got really sexually creepy!) it did not sink in that the characters were in America. The odd, unrecognizable, streets were not believable and even in Chinatown here in NYC the medicine shops don't look like that. Would it have hurt the Artist to buy a reference book? Apparently so.
I feel like it's dangerous to even talk about this. But I'd like to open the door to my own process. Maybe it will help others who feel lost on how to approach a page. First I'll say DON'T LOOK IN OTHER COMICS FOR GUIDANCE! Read the script, visualize, and try to sketch out what you see in your mind's eye. A good panel describes the action in a single picture. No matter how detailed, the picture shouldn't be moving like a 3 sec. reel of film. The whole page should give you that feeling after all of the panels have been put down.
Know your characters. In the real world of deadlines there isn't always a lot of time to get to know the characters. When you're drawing an established character there are already set movements and body types that you must draw. Spiderman web slinging in those crouched positions. The Classic Superman homage. It's part of that character, your creative choices become limited to angle and style. But for your own you should sketch to develop those signatures that are unique to your character. We all want to draw eye candy. We see it in the art we pick up and think wow, I wanna do something that powerful. It's not going happen if you don't study human anatomy and perspective. If you never look at the body in motion you can't draw it in motion, and foreshortening is a bitch no matter how many times you've drawn it. It's a constant state of study. I'm still learning and most of the time I feel very shaky. No matter how you go about your acquaintanceship you're not going to find through copying someone else's signature. You'll get their style and their mistakes and you won't be recognizably you.
I'm reluctant to post my personal sketches, but as I gear up to show more of Yume's arguably better half I though it would be fun to see.
Buying a sketch book and just sitting down with it has done wonders for me. I feel like I've found something and I know I had been missing the benefit of being able to work out my characters off of the final boards. I'm revisiting figure drawing and heroic proportions. I'd like to develop more fluidity in my backgrounds and just relearn to love the art of sketching which really became the bane of my existence. I hate drawing @ cons. Crowds make me nervous and I suffer from gross feelings of inadequacy as it is then having to sketch magnifies those feelings ten fold almost to a point of a phobia. I can't say that I like it very much now that my work is being compared to manga. I think that's hurting what little standing I have as a comic book artist. I'm getting looked down on again and more than anything else that belittling is rattling my self confidence. I hate this business.
I had an epiphany last night. I realized that I no longer sketch. I used to have sketch books where I worked out characters and such, but I've been so consumed by deadlines and the pressures of the industry and running my home concurrently that I lost a very important step in my creative process. I realized that's why both Yume and Ever still feel like strangers to me and why I'm so hesitant to complete the next issue where the characters change significantly. So the remedy is simple. I must sketch.
MoCCA is the next con on my list and the last until San Diego. I have to finish 2 books of Yume and Ever before then. Even saying so sounds crazy, but it's true. I've also been sewing like a one man sweat shop. It's therapy during my down minutes. There's no shortage on what to do, just a shortage of time.
Now I'm gonna post something edge-worthy. The first pic from Yume and Ever: Uniforms, color Special #2.
I wanted to use it as a cover but it's too racy. This is one of the books that will be printed in color during the first story arch. Unlike the first colored special, Uniforms has nothing to do with continuity. It's a show case of what's under the skins. I'm experimenting with color and styles of painting and choosing exotic locations, trying to remind myself that I like comics and art. (Don't mind me, I'm still grieving).
Wizard World Philly is coming up fast. I'm not as ready as I should be, but I'm hoping to get some new poster art done. I thought about using the one I just posted but again, too risky. What do you think?
I got to see Ironman last night with the Marvel crew. It was great! Worth seeing. Robert Downey Jr. was the quintessential Tony Stark. The movie was funny at times and relevant to today, a very simple, pleasant update for an old friend. I left the theater in the right mood and was promptly introduced to an Asshole. The friends who I was sandwiched between are the vocal, instigative, sort. They're fun to see movies with and the commentary was appropriate given the comfortable setting. it's important to note here that none of them are of the African American persuasion, only I am dark skinned. The Asshole I was introduced to happened to be sitting in the row in front of us. He joked that he thought that "black people" were sitting behind him and pointed at me and said was it you? with a big grin. Okay, I let it go, nothing to say really besides that everyone had fun (and I don't think that I sound like a man). But he said it again, and accused me again. Laughing about "black people" over and over. I felt uncomfortable and perhaps I should have said so. I'm Hispanic, I can't help how I look and I'm not ashamed of who I am. I felt his prejudice eyes on me and recognized the ignorance in his voice. I walked away leaving everything very polite. It's hard to know how to react when your blindsided. Later my friend who made the introductions tried to explain it away by saying that it's all the fault of where the Asshole was born, the ignorance and racial segregation of his kinfolks, don't blame him. No one should have to suffer that. I expect more from the modern society I live in. Perhaps I am naive, I thought I was accepted because of who I am and what I do. I don't like having smoke blown up my ass. I rather be known for my work than for my face. The art is important, but if I can't even get past that with my peers... yeah. I don't need anyone to spell out my short comings, I'm brown skinned, left handed, and I'm a woman; BELIEVE ME I know how the deck is stacked. Then I have the audacity to try to draw comic books??!!!! Oh string me up! Luckily for me I'm not readily introduced to anyone as an Artist, I get to be that "black person" in the back.
No pictures today.
There's a distinct feeling that I have now that's different from the anxiety I had before I sold the first book. Not panic, not really overwhelmed... defeated maybe? I chalk it up to being tired all of the time and now I can't do anything to relax or take my mind off of things because every minute of the day must be utilized. No more books or manga reading (unless I'm leaving offerings for the porcelain god). I'm gonna try to catch Ironman, but I shouldn't because of the time it will cost me; and having to watch every little thing that I put in my mouth is beginning to depress me!
OKAY! Mood lifter... let's talk comics. So Since I can't read anything that's not a super secret script or Yume and Ever I'll talk about Yume and Ever. In the first issue, which is the only silent issue, the bad guys unleash Pandora. In the Black issue I'll give the "how we got here" to the first issue. Why? Because a silent book makes you ask questions that you'll fear will never be answered. I don't like that anymore than the next person, but the first issue being done that way is more important to the survivors and their interpretation of events in the years to come. Who will lie? Who will fall from grace? Why?
Here's an eliminated page from the first issue. I should say reworked. If you've already gotten the first issue then you've heard my spiel about the military trained young Heroes who save the day. This is not a big brother type or evil, conniving, government. The children they raised are protected soldiers. They weren't supposed to fight Pandora, but you'll have to get the second issue to see how they got involved, hehe!!
I'm still wiped out. I can't believe how tiring an experience a con is, but I wanted to be sure to throw up a great big thank you for all of your support and kindness ;0)
