Wednesday, August 06, 2008
The Scene of the Crime
Been hard at work, raisn' babies and drawin' pictures. I have several irons placed in the general vicinity of fire, right now, none of which I can talk about, but I'll share some of the visual tidbits when I can. This one, f'rinstance, would appear to be some sort of, uhm, interior space. In which things might occur. Like people walking in, and having conversations. Maybe they fix themselves a drink, and then sit down to read a magazine. Not even reading, really, just flipping through the pages, grazing the images. Then something—a color, the twist of a model's ankle, the sheen of shampoo-ad hair—inspires reverie of days long past: the petty embarrassments of high school, the first adolescent fumblings at love, the girl with the crooked tooth and green eyes that one never quite built up the nerve to approach. You know, exciting comics stuff like that.