Inkling

I'm in the process of reorganizing my studio (read: organizing my studio) in order to minimize clutter (read: shoving everything up in the attic) and free up a little space (read: nursery).

I emptied out a couple drawers of sketchbooks, this morning. It is both exhilarating and embarrassing to look back through these things. Sometimes I feel jealous of my previous self for having ideas that seem fresher and more earnest that my what I'm doodling now. Mostly, I just cringe at the naiveté and often-crappy drawing.

In any case, it is impossible to go through a pile of old sketchbooks and not flip through them, and these were some of the first pages I opened to. I remember thinking about two characters, Inkling and Spot, but not drawing these pages.




That's kinda fun, right? Maybe, before they go to live among the rafters, I should do a little more sketchbook scanning.

Forgotten Mistakes/Forbidden Sins

They can't all be good decisions, right? And, we are collectively learning that the Internet makes it pretty hard to keep out mistakes safely buried in the past. Thanks to Google, entirely too many people know about my undergraduate fascination with the Atari Lynx, my affinity for shore diving, and, yes, my brief acting turn in an erotic thriller.

It was 1998, I was living in New York, going to grad school. I was meeting a lot of interesting people, including some actors, directors, and production artists. One day, while sitting in my studio, staring at a blank piece of watercolor paper, I received a call from an acquaintance who needed bodies in a hurry. There wasn't much budget, there wasn't much time, and they were pretty much dragging in anyone who owed them a favor or, like myself, was naive enough to think of it as an adventure.

The movie was Forbidden Sins, starring Shannon Tweed. All you need to know about it can be gleaned from the IMDB's plot keywords: "Sex scene standing up," "Lesbian Scene," and "Nude woman murdered."

I was supposed to be an extra, milling around in the back of a police station. But, when an actor flaked out, I, being the right height for the blocking and already in schleppy-cop costume, was suddenly promoted the role of "Polygraph Technician." And so, a star was born. A star that shone all the brighter for shining so briefly.

A fair number of people have been stumbling across this little gem from my past lately, and asking me about it. To save everyone the trouble of renting this soft-porn turkey, I've lovingly adapted the entirety of my screen time into easily-digestible comics format, below. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Forbidden Sins.

That's right. Death by orgy, baby.

Pack 'em up!

I'm feeling pretty good on the home-front, these days. The Lovely Wife is not only knocked all the hell up, but has returned to her native soil from the wendigo-haunted hinterlands of Darkest Canada (she wears the scars of her year in the maple syrup mines with the quiet dignity of one who has looked into the frozen heart of the beast and did not blink).

But, at least until Apple shows us all how to convert our possessions into digital files and carry them around in a tastefully designed hip-top device, coming home means packing, and packing just ain't no fun.

Spoiler Alert!

Well, Young Mr. Trippe is up to his meme-jinks, once again. This time, it's Stephanie Brown, aka "Spoiler," aka "The girl Robin who got killed real fast and then ignored."

I've never been a particular fan of Robin, but I did buy the three issues or so when Stephanie wore the red-breast. A girl Robin caught my imagination, and seemed like a interesting pants-kick to the Batman-plus-one dynamic. It quickly became apparent that the writer was only pursuing this storyline because of editorial mandate, and that said mandate ended with Stephanie getting hers. Feh.

Anyway, Dean himself has drawn a very nice take on the character.
Jemma Salume, Joel Carroll, and Ming Doyle all have great ones, too. And many more to come, I'll warrant.

I'm not sure why I drew my Stephanie in the company of Hal Jordan and Metamorpho. But I'm glad Metamorpho is in the lead. That cat looks like he's got a plan.

Donkey

If I have a totem animal, it must surely be a donkey. Because I definitely have a totem garment, and it's a rumpled tweed jacket. And donkeys pretty much all look like they're wearing rumpled tweed jackets.

That, my friend, is logic.

Armadillos

A new semester is beginning and, Jumping Jiminy, but it's running me ragged. Well, that and a sudden surge of Dad-hormones which insist that I scrub, reorganize, or pitch every single object in the house. When I do find time to draw, the hormones maintain their domesticating infulence on my poor brain, and, however much I may want to draw a bodacious babe in a chain-mail bikini driving a righteous chopper right through the rotted torso of a zombie warthog-demon, I keep drawing pictures of dewey-eyed woodland animals.

How are you guys?