ALTERNATIVE COMICS New WEBCOMIC

HEY APATHY! Surreal Webcomic

This is page 2 of the new Surreal Webcomic I'm making over at HEYAPATHY. The series is set out as a bunch of one page weeklies that sift in and out of a bizarre and terrifying larger story arc. New oneiric experiments  every Friday ( or early Saturday Night).   

ALTERNATIVE COMICS Surreal Interiors #4

HEY APATHY! Surreal Comics

ALTERNATIVE COMICS Surreal Interiors #3

HEY APATHY! Surreal Comics

A potted tree and the robot gardener.

Alternative Comics Weird Interior #1

HEY APATHY! Surreal Comics

A handsome sum was paid in advance not for the tickets themselves but for information regarding whereabouts of the ticket agent . The amount paid by the ticket holder is somewhat open to speculation though it can be ascertained that if you aren’t aware of the price for such things, you simply do not have that kind of money. Having said all that, the stubs are checked and a small unassuming door opens. Behind the façade lies a room of the most peculiar sterility. Metallic panelling and the large overhead structure of lights and wires from an operating room are only embellished by a festive curtain covering the unseen subject. No one knows for sure upon entering , and absolutely no one breathes a word after exiting, about those unusual items which entertain the most elite. Beyond power, beyond violence, beyond carnal, cruelty and beyond reason, lies the horrific atrocities which have no function but to combat cases of multibillion dollar ennui. Pen & Ink 4x 4 inch detail  This is one of the panels from the Surreal Webcomics cover I finished this week. Thought I'd take some time to do  write ups for all the little panels in the drawing over the next few days while I get to lettering the story which I will start posting next week.

ALTERNATIVE COMICS Broadcast to Oblivion

HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics

When we last left our celebrity news broadcaster (yesterday's post) he was entirely occupied by his own image. Spending hours upon hours, in between telecasts, the reporter watched tapes of his performances and practiced in the mirror. He starred at his reflection and videos with such concentration until one day he realized that he himself was the reflected image and not the actual man on the news.

Some more unfinished 8.5 x 11 inch sketchbook comics for the upcoming HEY APATHY! Surreal Web Comic. I really should try to keep up with the lettering as it is I have twenty pages to write in. When I work on paintings or even comic books full time, I like to work on one piece from start to finish. However when I am producing large quantities of drawings, such as animation stills, I will often divide the process between numerous artworks.

For example in a scene consisting of two characters, one black and one white. I might draw the white character 100 times, return to the beginning draw the black character 100 times, then start over again to paint the black character in 100 times. It’s like a factory production line. The problem with this technique is that the most mundane and repetitive parts of the process always get left, in abundance, until the end. On the positive side of my ever growing pile of unscripted comic pages, my lettering leaves much to be desired right now and a good solid week of practice should help me tighten up my cartoon calligraphy. 

 more at http://www.heyapathy-comics-art.com/

ALTERNATIVE COMICS of SHADOWS...

HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics

Over the years of my weird studies I’ve read, watched and witness many happenings involving shadows. In stories they have boxed back, hid dark secrets and in a certain instance a ghost impersonated one for a groundhog. On film I’ve seen battles in which ninja move in and out of them and at night I’ve been mesmerized by an odd kaleidoscope of twirling shapes on my ceiling which don’t quite align with the passing traffic which supposedly causes them. It is clear that these unassuming darkened reflections of the world hold secrets which are generally taken for granted.

Having arrived at this deduction I felt it was only natural to investigate the matter more thoroughly . In order to do so I came up with a simple plan involving a few powerful photography lamps and a selection of household products. Setting up my devices in the studio with an intuitive particularity, I proceeded to cast large shadows on the wall of the loft. My intention was to briefly meditate on each form before capturing some quick gestures with my India ink and brush.

I’d no expectations as to what I might find, which as the physicist knows can be both progressive and troubling. It is of the utmost interest to discover things you aren’t looking for, but without direction or intention can one discover anything at all? Well I certainly found out something that maybe I shouldn’t have as the shadows began to take on a life of their own. When casting a mug I found a four legged creature and the mop, broom and bucket revealed a horse. I tried some chairs and a nightstand only to discover a strange form which looked a lot like Australia. And finally I put forth some of my groceries and mixed everything together which projected the clear and precise image of a human form.

That form divided itself into two similar factions both growing horns and dancing about. A third figure, less sleek and more bulbous appeared shortly thereafter and the three unusual creatures enveloped the wall. As they crept around the north side of my studio their shapes grew more definite and their actions less obscure. I could see they were pacing hastily as though in search of object becoming increasingly frantic and frustrated as they went about. It was a horrible scene but strangely fantastic so I grabbed my paper and imitated the forms on the page.

At this the shadows stopped and turned towards me, pointing and relaxing as though their query had ceased. Suddenly I felt a terrible chill which caused me to draw rapidly though I wasn’t sure why and for some reason was accepting of the occurrence. Not an unusual thought regarding these shadow had entered my mind. I didn’t think about the absurdity nor question the movements until the shapes started changing. Like a small clustered disco ball little flickers of light danced from inside, and the dark flat shadows appeared more multi-dimensional. I could see strange organic clusters around the area of the creatures faces revealing them selves in unknown forms which I can explain better with my pen.

More Monsters?

 

I rushed to complete the images which still did not bother me for I must have been under some sort of dream spell. The horns and the meat faces became clearly visible as did their hands and small remnants of clothes. Marvelling at the magnificent find I paused for a moment to bask in the weirdness slowly engulfing me. It was in this petrified moment that my senses returned initiated by the most terrifying thing I’d ever scene. Not the horns, nor the hands, nor the clothing astounded me, not even the amorphously butchered globular mess which passed itself as their faces. It was one last transformation which sent me into a panicked fear, finally breaking the hypnotic clutches dulling my thoughts. As the shadows pointed with authority in my direction I saw the them for the first time as something other than shade. One by one they opened their eyes. These eyes were not flat, and were certainly not impressions as not light reflection could mimic a optic so well. Fully developed round juicy blood shot eyes and in some instances more than were appropriate.

Shuddering I’d of screamed if not for a fit of extreme dehydration. Although my parched throat could be accounted for by the photography lamps, I can’t help but feel as though something else was responsible for draining me of my natural fluids. I smashed down the objects placed before the lights in a frenzy to stop this surreal metamorphosis. Breaking to lamps and turning off the others I sat in pitch darkness uncomfortable afraid. The images had vanished but I was still quivering though I had no trouble recollecting the sight of their eyes. I added them to the ink drawings while alone in the blackness fearing both the stark night and even more the cast shadows which would soon return with the rising sun.

MORE SURREAL STORIES?

ALTERNATIVE COMICS What lies beneath the brickwork ...

HEY APATHY! Alternative comics

A strange deviation lurks beyond the metropolis' shadows breeding and brooding in the darken alleys and sewers. Though still unassuming yet a certain times visible, these weird horned malformations reek of diabolic intent. A alchemic concoction constituently designed of a unique intermingling of the physical and intangible is slowly formulating a new race. The bacteria necessary for these creatures inception is common and harmless to those without contact. The rotting foods, wasted containers and used toxins normally found in all garbage when left to culture in dark and damp places contain the necessary fluids for the ensuing development of a most frightening enemy. However these fermented and macrobiotic organisms of decay are uselessly inanimate with out the inclusion of certain rituals and would likely only fester in unkempt corners and unfiltered sewer ways.

The rituals involved are on their own much more devious and as a rule cause great harm to any involved. Through any act of malicious aggression, violence or depravation the chemical environments may be well prepared for the birth. Following even the most miniscule of horrific occurrences the air and area of the location becomes stained. A telepathic residue changes the scene’s composure leaving unseen markings viable enough to incite change. In instances of extreme devastation the psychic residue may be so extreme as to force those who enter the premises unknowingly to re-enact the previous terrors despite clear and sane histories free from violence. The rituals do not require such escalated events to proceed as almost any act of hatred will suffice in the change.

It is the unique mixture of these, our excessive physical wastes and intrinsic motive and acts of cruelty, which have completed this new formula of probable destruction. As garbage is left unattended in the darkest corners of the city, so to do these corners nurture evil acts. From the most insidious crimes of man against man right down to terrible self inflicted and addictive injuries are seething through the un-trodden pathways, alleys and underground tunnels. Most of these atrocities have been ignored by the people and press while those which have been acknowledged have since been deemed social acceptable. Yet despite the mass denial and inexplicable justifications, the spell has been cast and a change will soon take place. The accumulative fervour of all these negative acts is breeding and brooding in the development of a new race. With horns on their heads they have been witnessed quite seldom but rest assured in unrest for an army of evil is growing behind the unlit brick work in the monsrous metropolis known as the City of Gears…  more at http://www.heyapathy-comics-at.com/

ALTERNATIVE COMICS found one of those strange portals...

HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics

An interesting and somewhat unusual turn of events led to my discovery of one of those unique portals which permit visitations to other cities and possibly other parts of the world. No sense in delaying the inevitable so in I go and off to somewhere. This little vacation has upset my normal routines so my post is on the short side tonight but fear not if you have been following the Street Art Chronology for I'll resume those recollections at the end of my sudden travels. I don't know where this portal is headed nor what lies in store at the other side but I expect, though without any real reason, that I'll be back in my studio by next Tuesday.

In the mean time please enjoy some of these stills from the new HEY APATHY! animation funded by the Ontario Arts Council. I've been working on the project for a few months now and despite the tediously slow and extensive work involved the cartoon is coming to life. The first set of stills depicts a Technological Last Supper, as a group of young business people are attacked by a giant ominous Robot. The second set of stills represents the unconscious monsters which float, transform and permeate though out the meditative spaces. The entire short film will reveal many unusual discoveries through a strange quest to identify the city. 13 intermingled vignettes each based on a chapter of the weird fine art investigation I've entitled HEY APATHY! . The Ontario Arts Council was looking for some visual progress reports to help promote all the projects they've funded so I put together some quick samples before I prepare to dive into the travelling vortex which has so conspicuously presented itself. More bizarre ramblings when(ever) I return....   

MONSTER COMICS animation stills

more at www.heyapathy-comics-art.com

ALTERNATIVE COMICS Technological Talisman

HEY APATHY! Surreal Alternative Comics

Yet another unusually hot spring day in the city of Gears. The thick air and burning sun pumped us up around 30 degrees Celsius as the sluggish denizens filled the early morning streets. At first the metropolis was energized in every sense as people flaunted and strut in their scantily summer fashions fully ready to make use of the fine weather. However as the sun continued it's climb and the heat crept steadily upward, the excitement became filtered and numbed by the inevitable  stroke and dehydration. The parks filled with bitterness and irritation from any who tried to move.

By noon the temperature had risen and though I did not check it, that heat was more than abnormal and relentlessly rising. I heard bickering from the benches and witness no less than three fights as my neck started reddening forcing me into the shade. It was at about three in the afternoon that I found my self seeking shelter under a large tree from the sweltering rays. The heat kept on creeping and I found that I could barely replenish my perspiration by downing several litres of water.

At four o'clock the concrete stared to melt peeling back layers and revealing strange thoughts. The air started to waver as though it was water and those who were left standing were in the utmost of rage. Car horns could be heard , along with much yelling , from all perceptive directions of the urban landscape. Still getting hotter at five in the late afternoon, I found my self caught in a daze completely incapacitated while stuck to the tree. It was here in the mucky humid waving heat of the city that I nearly passed out, but it was not from the heat but from something I saw.

From across the blazing park a figure stood alone and idol, easily noticeable as the only person unaffected by the heat. As the blurry grudged air slowly subsided the being appear ever slightly more clear. At first the only peculiarity seemed to be the tall strides, as absolutely every one else was incapacitated by the humidity. Then I noticed the beings head like a bull only with four horns and three faces or possibly four. The movements of the creature became smoothly surreal as it moved closer and closer until I was most certain it's legs were in fact constructed mechanics resembling tentacles and tendrils intertwined yet mobile.

I squinted to view this atrocious absurdity and though it appeared to take no notice, it continually approached. Now the faces were moving and intermingled forming and reforming before my very eyes. Amazing the effects of a hot humid vision, an hallucination for sure brought about by the sun. The creature got closer and I could see that it's hips were made up from small screens projecting strange expressions and I almost laughed as I was compelled to smell my water for a spike.

At last the monster arrived only inches before me when under all the animalistic mechanizations I saw some thing more terrible. It was a man in a lab coat and large rubber gloves wearing the cape and cowl of a hero with his arm spread wide apart. His teeth were gritted and hissing and I could hear the sound of machinery from under his breath. His torso was opened with intestines of computers and the bull's heads seemed to be one with his own. The strange scientist reached forward with one of his gloved hands and made a gesture as though he was turning a switch. "That's a wrap" were the words muttered out from the machine noises and all at once the heat and desolate weather system seemed to recoil.

The vision, the scientist, the sounds and the humidity all vanished at once. The temperature did not drop instead immediately corrected and the dehydrated irritations of the city had ceased. Who knows maybe I just fell asleep in the sun but that certainly doesn't explain how I finished the drawing posted above this weird account of today's heat wave gone wrong. Any ways I got back to my studio, ate some food and worked on the O.A.C. animation trying to forget that we are quite very possibly all rats in a lab....

 
 

more drawings at http://www.heyapathy-comics-art.com/

ALTERNATIVE COMICS Surreal Line Ups to Nowhere Now Here!

HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics Nightmares from Nowhere

 Perpetually obliterated by futureless and mundane routines, a large group of strange denizens crowds together forming a line. Each lost little soul waits patiently for advancement as the world all around them fades to a white out and fills endlessly with flies. Decorated with obscured and misplaced blackened orifices the crowds wallow in anonymity.

The bleak conglomerated hypnotic conformity briefly subsides as the result of a distracted young citizen who inadvertently holds up the line. Boisterously exposing his amorphous and teeth ridden malformed chest cavity, the foolish adolescent initiates agitation through this breach of social etiquette. Unable to concentrate on the holding his place in the line, the daydreamer opens his mouth, as to yawn, and begins to spit flies. Once again his deviant behaviour is reprimanded by the pushy and passing members of the now moving line.

After what is deemed an eternity, the anticipation suddenly subsides. "NEXT" bellows aggressively from a figure just ahead. In an instant the subject snaps out from his mesmerised and insect infested contemplative regurgitation. The receptionist, a tall refrigerator type looking marvel wearing radiation proof gloves ands showing only his blackened teeth, demands a numbered ticket from the next person in line. Astonished the young pupil bursts into retaliation angrily declaring that he'd heard nothing of a number system and had already been waiting forever. With the authority of an occupying force, the receptionist conducts the lost and mistaken individual back to the back of the line.

As he walks slowly into place, and his senses fall depleted, the tiny little teenager sifts off into dreams. In the visions he recalls having had been here before . This white backdrop, the mutations, and the line up itself all prove horrifically recollective and in a despairing moment of weakness, he bows his head in defeat. As the line keeps on creeping other members resign in similar fashion . No attempts at escape nor the prevention of flies, nor any unusual observation is transmuted as sound. One by one the people forget, regret and accept, turning first into monsters and then to machines.

 

 

I spent the whole day fixing photos and writng stories for my website. This one is going part of an old horror anthology that I made. I've finally scanned and corelated the pages so you can see the whole comic at www.heyapathy-comics-art.com/surreal-monster-comics.html  

ALTERNATIVE COMICS NO POST TODAY read why ...

HEY APATHY! NO ALTERNATIVE COMICS TODAY

I must apologize in advance for the following dog-ate-my-homework type excuse but there will be no blog post on this the 18th of April 2010. Although I awoke refreshed and complimented by a beautifully shining morning, my regular artist's rituals were interrupted by the most peculiar event. When I stood up, thirsty yet enthused, I noticed a glimmering pool of a opaque liquid had spilt across my bedroom floor. At first I assumed that a bottle of white book binding glue had toppled in the night. Slightly frustrated, as I forgot to hydrate my self, I set forth to examine the damage and potentially clean up my mess.


As printmakers and painters, and carpenters alike all well know, an upset bottle of glue across wooden panel floor can be disastrous. If the glue has settled, the likely hood of removal is certainly nil. I knelt down to touch the puddle and was instantaneously taken aback by the depth at which my fingers had submerged. While the substance sat only millimetres from the floor, I easily fit half of my hand into the now inexplicable spillage.

In my less than alert state, only just out of bed, I was barely able to process the occurrence. Inhaling a combination of shock, surprise and alarm within a singular breath, I felt a sinking depression of the senses as of one who is malnourished upon receiving the most traumatic of news. Instinctively I pulled back my moist covered hand when the white sopping ooze lifted whole in it's shape and flew up with my arm engulfing the room. All at once I was surrounded by an odourless and tasteless air constituently heavy not entirely unlike a gelatine or white glue. For a second the atmosphere was suffocating but as the substance filled my lungs, and then all of my airways, I was overtaken by a sanctifying calm.

I floated, or sank, through the thick globular nothing for a duration which felt as rapidly exasperating as the passing seconds of a movie montage spanning millennia. I heard the sounds of many keyboards tapping when a minute blackened orifice opened in the opaque space out in front of me. First a hand reached from within, then another and another exited the shapeless salutation. The figures peeled back the thick liquid white and the sounds became louder.

Before me were thousands of people all morphed one seething tar soaked entity, each individual barely coherent except for the nature of their tasks. In one clustered area of the mingled anomaly there were people eating, and people preparing the meals and people preparing the animals for the meals. A crowd of onlookers gathered and gawked, even cheered at the slaughter, while other slaved like an army and others still gorged. In another region of the glob people were building things and simultaneously destroying them. There were liars and thieves, and saviours and scholars all curiously defined by their meaningless chores. People-ish forms laughed and danced and ran and typed . Oh how they typed.

Many words in many languages could be seen sprouting out in mingled fonts only to be enveloped by the blank tar periphery. Lost almost as soon as initiated, thousands upon thousands of stories, communications, essays, and articles, appeared and disappeared along the gelatinous surface of the weird white air. There were many, many, many blogs. All of the texts were jumbling together simultaneously complimenting and refuting one another. Most of the information blended and blurred in the atmospheric pudding. A handful of these writings stood out from the storm. Their authors received much celebration and adoration from all districts of the seeping strange form. Their words were boldly animated and appeared larger and clearer than the rest. But alas of these few, even fewer had anything to say.

I heard the sounds of ten thousand radios mixing repetitions with ads. The terrible static beat and faceless harmonies turned my ears in unto themselves. A snippet of every horrific tune ever written set a torturous train of thought to work on my psyche. The experience could only be likened the time when one has an unwanted melody playing over in ones head but cannot remember all the words, and thereby is trapped perpetually cycling only a most irritating half-chorus. It was like that, only it was every song that had ever pestered me all mixed into one. For a brief moment the amalgamation of noise cohesively recited a line from Tina Turner's Private dancer.

At this I was broken. For the first time since observing the inside's of the goo, I was stricken to panic. I tried to scream, tried to swim. tried to claw my way up but the sounds just got louder and the amorphous pile of humanoid figures drew nearer. I could feel the black fleshy bubbles and the gripping of hands on my ankles when, with a sudden jerk, I fell out of the space and into the thick swamp public nebula. Politicians were screaming, and children were screaming! Advertising executives were laughing, purely white people chinked filled glasses with indulgence, and young soldiers trained for battle. Long monotonous rows of hands trapped in singular motions produced boxes upon boxes from nowhere that other hands grasped for and instantly unpackaged. The opened receptacles were then discarded and subsequently collected by another line of figures partaking in a similar, yet entirely unique, repetition. Mediocre celebrities built a fortress in the desert separate from the glob and teenagers ate celebrity magazines which in turn caused them to vomit up their used souls. I saw artists abrasively rubbing their faces against such magazines, yelling "LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!" and I watched a film crew violate the verse of magnificent authors who'd died without fame. The overall affect of the grotesque embodiment left little clue as to distinguish the cries of horror from those of ecstasy.

Then I saw the technologies. My only excuse for not having already noticed must have been the suddenness of the entire experience for each and every one of these people-forms was equipped with a device. Varying in shapes and sizes from miniscule to monstrous the technological malformations seamlessly protruded from all surfaces of the blob. I looked up from the center of this thing I can never truly describe, to see all of the mechanizations were moving, not out of place but in a passing as a serpents scales do when breaching the surface of a dark heavy bog. The direction of the slither pointed towards a glowing bright light as of that of the heavens. However something deep and ominously inside of myself warned against that the light for it was not my salvation but of something indeed quite the opposite.

I fitted in panic thrice that of my first bout but the resistance seemed only to attract attention from the blindingly hideous glow. I struggled against the agitated black tar of humanoid forms and robotic tentacles but cold gain no ground. I knew not even what ground I'd hoped to gain? This was my last thought before the enormous screen of flickering fluorescence swallowed me whole.


Once again I was alone and surrounded by white. Only this time I dare not open my eyes for the brightness penetrated so fully my eyelids that I could already see as clearly as day. Everything went silent until I heard a deep bass voice speak up from within the farthest recess of that space and my conscious. " WHY? ". The articulation was unmistakable and mockingly perverse. In my mind I had answered, but the thought was so fleeting that I cannot recall it. The result of this forgotten response set the omnipotent presence into infuriated laughter. The laughter ensued and expanded shaking me all around. As the trembling exemplified the bellowing turned to coughing, then choking and finally resolved itself as a combination of choking and gasping. I can only guess that wherever I was, was probably the stomach of something and that the combination of my consumption and the laughter had resulted in that something's indigestion. I felt sporadic convulsions and was propelled upwards by an invisible ,yet tangible, sea of pebbled acidity. This burning reverse-fall lasted for about 5 seconds before I found my self standing back in my bedroom. For a brief moment my clothes felt damp but I soon realized otherwise. I looked to the floor but could find no evidence of the adventure.

My nerves have now settled, and after drinking a considerable amount of water I have decided to pass the experience off as pure fiction. I am, however, tainted by retentive images of the typography which had been written all over that unusual spilt glue tapestry beneath my bedroom floor. Only now, in my recollections, the words all say "WHY?" and I’ve come to realize that at present there are far more of these words than the world will ever need. Besides it is late and I am exhausted and have many tasks for tomorrow’s morn, so there will be no alternative comics post from HEY APATHY! today.
visit http://www.heyapathy-comics-art.com/

ALTERNATIVE COMICS A Lizard Dream...

HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics dream hiatus

It has been said by the Buddhists "that the minute you speak of something, it is lost". In contrast, it is common knowledge amongst sorcerers and black magicians that quite often it is the verbalization of an action which ignites the consequence. For both of these reasons, (understanding and fear) I had decided it in the best interest of all parties involved not to share the following experience unless the matters at hand were first clearly resolved. Early this afternoon such actions were taken in order to reach a reasonable conclusion so as to permit me to tell you the tale of my recent Lizard dreams.

In my brief hibernation, taken to recover from this past weekends comic book convention, I endured the most terrifying of sensations. During my sleep I happened to notice that a small dragon creature had suffered a severe and almost certainly fatal injury. The lizard was nearly split in two at the gut and was writhing and projecting telepathic screams in a desperate fit attempt to relieve itself from pain. I could see no means of saving the monster despite all of my books and training ( I have performed numerous amateur yet necessary and successful surgeries on my own reptilian in the past) and so with a broken heart I decided to end the life of the dream lizard in the namesake of mercy.

You can probably get an inkling of the black feeling overtaking me if you remember your own pet's end, however it is more than likely that an emergency did not force the euthanization out of your own hands. But what was worse was my attempt to save the beast from it's suffering continued to fail. Neither the ringing of her neck, nor the injected poisoning, nor the attempted affixation I inflicted would take.

Instead of passing freely the tiny life perpetually agonized increasing from each attack. She shrank and withered, lost most of her skin, lost all of her colour and her eyeballs fell inside of her skull. But no ,the creature would not die, I could not release her from the pain, and my constant attempts had certainly pushed her past any hope of being saved.

I awoke in terror and immediately went to the tank to inspect my miniature dragon. She seemed happy and healthy and without a care in the world. I placed her in the sunny window and pondered the message dredged up from my unconscious. It did not take me long to analyse my guilty subconscious as I was full well aware that my lizard, named Goose, had not been fed since at least a week. I was also aware that my avoidance of feeding was correlated to my concern for another little dragon sitting in the pet store.

The lizard entrapped at the store was withering away, malnourished, discoloured and undersized in comparison to it's dominant sibling. I had been avoiding the store, and the purchase of Goose's food, for fear of seeing the other little one suffer. On my previous trips the proprietor of the shop had sensed my solicitude towards the situation and treated me with disregard shuffling me out of the shop quickly to avoid reparations.

Realizing my empathetic fears could potentially ignite disaster, I resigned to visit the store, purchase the food, and was determined to avoid checking on the small dragon. Upon arrival, the owner's greeted me with a more than usual enthusiasm (they'd always been friendly prior to their own dragon's illness). I ordered some crickets and unconsciously strolled over to the lizard aquariums. Much to my surprise and delight the dragon was looking proud and strong. Her colours were growing as was her tale. She had almost caught up to her brother, a magnificent specimen once three times her size.

 I returned home and watched the little Goose monster hunt and gobble the heard of insects like a giant Japanese monster awakening from a thousand year slumber. Having faced my fear of the pet store and alleviated my guilt, I  resolved the black terror which engulfed my being persistantly through out the night and early morning to such an extent that I am unashamed to share the occurrence and freed from the worry that talking about the problem might cause an imaginary horror to manifest.  more stories at  http://www.heyapathy-comics-art.com/

A picture of  my good friend Goose a happy, healthy lady lizard chilling out in the park.

p.s. I can't get the Wizard World Convention picks out of the camera due to minor technical difficulties but I promise to review the event tomorrow!!

Alternative Comics Real Life Zombies and International Hypnosis

A couple of fashionable denizens from the HEY APATHY! alternative comics

First of all I must admit that almost everything of what I understand to be occurring in popular culture, rather in the world, is from hearsay. Or is it heresy? I rarely leave the tiny laboratory that I've dug for myself deep beneath the concrete in the west end of our troubled metropolis. I say ours because it is just probable that my dwelling is under any one if not all of the major cities. We all eat the same food, consume the same music, and experience similar films and fashions. We are also all at the beck and whim of our reporters who in turn are at the mercy of a singular ideology which in turn is likened to a zombie virus. For example I did not see it in person, nor did I catch the crustacean on the tele, for I watch even less than I stroll, but it has come to my attention that the latest thing or rather latest celebrity (a thing) has determined the newest thing or rather newest trend. Bearing down a red carpet dawning a taxidermy aquatic arthropod as a head piece. Of coarse the notion is no longer absurd or even relevantly shocking. In fact the occurrence passed as making perfect sense. Either the latest thing concurred that she no longer wished to be imitated or she decided that the was the most suitable of garments to be imitated. The results are yet to be scene. I did however witness with my own two eyes another strange yet less plausible anomaly the last time I left my buried habitat. In a single afternoon I saw three, yes three individuals wearing vibrant navy blue overalls rolled to the ankle accompanied by neon yellow turtle necks and likewise coloured sneakers. The kind with the white plastic toes. Yes all three of these unique “please look at me’s” in a single after noon and within a reasonable circumference. I had no option but to surmise that the lobster veil had not yet made it's way to our fair metropolis but instead some other broadcast was responsible for the infected zombies. Individuals beware, I know you are all individuals but beware all the same, for one day you might turn the corner landing face to face with you carbon copy magazine cut out doppelganger. Of coarse this doppelganger will only be half the latest thing that you are and you may reassure yourself that you did it first by purchasing not a lobster for your cranium but a ring of shrimp and wearing them between your thighs. visit http://www.heyapathy-comics-art.com/

Alternative Comics Apathy, Despair, and Secret Rooms

apathy & despair covers from the HEY APATHY! online comics

So yet another diligent day at the drafting table. Spent all of my working hours on the commissioned toy design project and have finished the first stage of the process which involves several variations on the character's costume and features. The next step will require some discussions with my employer and a final draft of the figurine. Upon completion of my work I decided to go for a late day stroll and noticed a peculiaity previously unseen in the stairwell exiting my house.

Where as I was certain that there were only six units in the building, each occupied by individual tenants in ,  came across a seventh door in the middle of the hall. How was it I hadn't noticed this before? The door was impossibly situated along the steps and left little room within the structure as to accommodate any sort of compartment behind it. I decided to press my ear against the entrance (as strange as it may seem) to see if I could determine whether or not this was yet another apartment.

The door flung open and six dark figures were sitting around a reasonably sized room filled with computer equipment. One of them glanced in my direction. He had a strange curly moustache, like the kind one might associate with a stereotypical artiste, and was continually typing into a computer as an endless feed of paper rolled out from the printer beneath his feet. His eyes turned red in the dim light then he spoke out in a jolly voice "You have a really cool password". I don't know why but I am certain he was referring to the code I use to protect my computer files. Immediately following this brief discourse, one of the other figures stood up cutting between me and the strange scenery. With authority the figure grasped the door and said "this is official business." The door slammed in my face abruptly but without as sound.

When I returned from my walk I could not find the room, and in fact the entire architecture of the house seemed once more logical as though no such room could have ever existed. I chose not to inquire further in to the matter as I clearly must have  succumb to some sort of temporary intervention of the imagination. However upon I arriving in my own lodgings I found a brand new video game system and a set of virtual war programs sitting beside my desktop. I disposed of the gaming system and all though I have no intention of investigating the whereabouts of that room, I fear that I may see it again.

 

visit http://www.heyapathy-comics-art.com/

MAKING MONSTER COMICS

MAKING MONSTER COMICS raw scan panel 1

MAKING MONSTER COMICS finshed panel 1

I spent the weekend doing the lettering for the opening sequences from "MONSTER COMICS". I've been approaching these online strips with a particular gorilla warfare style process. Like my ink drawings, and performances , I pretty much just make everything up as I go along and hope for the best. The drawing and inking techniques that I use for the on-line stories however, differs drastically from those used in my fine art creations. When creating large scale canvas or performance artworks, extensive attention is given to the technical rendering. This is often achieved through the meticulous layering of inks and obsessively detailed line-work accomplished with fine point calligraphy pens. In contrast the online panels are drawn exclusively with technical pens and worked up on the computer. In fact these new online drawings don't even exist.

The samples above show you how I just take a quick sketch will some rough black fills and do all the inking, borders and text inside the computer. Now I don't get the same results as I do when I complete the entire drawing on the board (which is how I do the "HEY APATHY!" published comic book.) but the time it saves on production is more than worth the sacrifice. I am still having troubles with pixels and keeping the text legible during resizing, however I am certain that these issues are entirely due to my inexperience with image processing technology. I have only been working inside the machine for a year and am most certainly a novice. (I just started sizing images in pixels, I used to have pencil lines drawn all over my computer screen and did all my editing in percentages with guess work!)

When comparing the two panels, it is also of interest to note the messy and unedited text you see scattered all over the raw scan. I always do this for the first panel of any comic I am lettering. Then I realize that I am making a huge mess and wasting a lot of time. Once I get over the initial excitement of telling the story, I then turn to the word processor and actually write all the dialogue out . It is much easier to edit inside the flicker-box than it is to keep re-writing the text all over the page. Following the completion of the script I set some nice lined writing paper on the light table and get down to some serious calligraphy. I had one of those pen sets when I was young and got addicted to lettering for quite some time. Now I can use all those hours practicing classical lettering to tell strange and inconceivable stories about children eating witches, the Stone Troll Statue and a condo in Williamsburg.

MAKING MONSTER COMICS

ESTABLISHING SHOT from MONSTER COMICS

As I have mentioned before, February is one of the most tedious months in my life as an artist. This is a very busy time of year for filling out forms, mailing applications, and booking my public performances and comic convention appearances for the upcoming season. This leaves little time for production and my days generally get divided as follows; morning research, afternoon essays, and night time scribbles. As a result I tend to produce a lot of single panel artworks and take a brief hiatus from my full time comics schedule. Such is the curse of the Ronin illustrator, you've got to push all the papers yourself (if anyone is serious, willing and capable of representation contact me).

Today, however, is a slightly exceptional day as far as February's go. The sun is shining the wind is asleep and I have completed all my urgent application's early, so the whole day has been set aside to draw. Well, that's not entirely true, actually what I really have to do is the lettering for my online MONSTER COMICS. I only had one panel (the opening shot of Williamsburg above) to complete in the first set of drawings. I'll finish all the lettering throughout the day and hopefully post the introduction at http://www.heyapathy-comics-art.com/ by Monday. I've drawn most of the story and creature features for the on-line comic but as one often does, I left the chore of lettering a little to long. I usually like to knock off the text one page at a time,as I go so as to the avoid horrendous hours of perpetual calligraphy. Don't misinterpret this as entirely pessimistic though, I actually derive a great pleasure from the task except that I find better results when I work on the word bubbles in smaller sessions. I have also found it a real pain to transfer the letters clearly to a format suitable for online presentation. When resizing the scans the letters seem to require singular attention in order to retain visibility. No worries though, I'll figure it all out and the MONSTER COMICS will creep and seep through your screens soon...

SLASH PAGE from MONSTER COMIC

just got to fix the lettering...coming soon

LIFE OF AN ARTIST Comic Portraits Neil Gaimen

Neil Gaimen giving "instructions" of the utmost urgency.

Each and every morning I set aside a short sequence of moments in which I find both pleasure and business in the act of reading. In pleasure the time spent allows me to escape and enjoy life in an unusual manner and in the business of thought I always learn something, a new word , a new connection or how to avoid police suspicion after committing a diabolical act.

I generally tend to choose the readings based on the amount of time I can allocate and find my self frequently returning to short stories, articles, and comic books due to the limitations one decree's as a freelance illustrator. Today however I figured it was best to take a comic to the cafe not because my time is limited (obviously) but rather because the peculiar prerogative of the February wind chills. It is damn cold outside but nothing like the previous winter and I had calculated that I could last outdoors with my coffee and the fresh air for approximately 20 minutes.

Therefor I reached blindly into my library grasping a copy of Neil Gaimen's "Dream Country" and decided to kidnap Calliope while i caffeinated myself. I must have read this a million and six times by now and it never gets stale. The spine tingling sensation and un-namable understanding that comes with good horror I got from these books as an adolescent hasn't faded a bit. These were among the first truly incredible comics I ever read, and , having been bored and disgusted by the exchange of script for slash which dominates the genre, restored my faith in the macabre. Thanks for all the wonderfully pretty stories Mr. G.

As is also part of my daily journal's and artistic warm up, I followed the inspiration with a little sketch of the monstrous muse. I looked at some press shots of Neil and thought they were as silly as a sandstorm in the sea so I did the drawings while watching him read one of his poems entitled "Instructions" instead. The portraits took about 5 minutes to draw, which is how long it will take you to listen to the story on youtube.Highly Recommended.