You've probably heard me mention Squidgods before. It's a massive comic (124 pages long) that I started in 2005, and finished in 2008. It's one of a class of comics I like to call, "Binder Comics", of which I currently have two. I hope never to have another one.
What makes a Binder Comic, you say? A Binder Comic is...
• contained within a binder, preferably with plastic sleeves
• penciled and inked entirely on printer paper
• begun with no particular plot in mind
• at least on hundred pages long
• takes at least a year to finish
• displays changes in the artist's style over time
• remains only in its original form for at least three years
Squidgods meets all these criteria. It is my second attempt at creating a comic book (after that scintillating classic, Matt Darkk and the Home Alien Control), and my first introduction of several characters I hope to use in the future, collectively called the Longshots universe (The official title is, Longshots #1: Squidgods. I'll probably post a blog about Longshots sometime in the future). After its completion in 2008, the poor thing languished for another three years in its binder, until, on a whim, I decided to dust it off and see what I could make of it.
Even upon a perfunctory inspection, one will notice that the quality is somewhat...well, "inconsistent" would be a polite word. "Scatterbrained" would be more apt. There is evidence of at least three or four different style changes throughout the comic, coinciding with three years of artistic development. And not sequential, either: after all was said and done, I had to go back and fill in all the gaps in the story. Taken all together, it's a pretty impressive piece of work (and artistically interesting); but as to whether it is printworthy, I'd have to say no - not unless I go back in and redo some rather poor drawings and inept layouts. If I was really, really serious about printing it under the DCP label, I might have to treat the binder comic as a visual script; I'd re-work the story to be more concise, carve everything into episodes, and re-draw the comic in a larger format. Even with the fat removed, it would probably run about seventy pages - seven issues of ten pages each.
At any rate, I'm not sure if I'll ever get it into full production; I might print one copy for my own appreciation and enjoyment. Just last week, I created a cover for it, with which I am rather pleased:
Longshots #1: Squidgods front cover
You're probably thinking, "Hey! It's in color! That's not the Rick I remember..." That's right, folks, Rick is moving into the Age of Color - reluctantly, kicking and screaming. This is one of my first experiments with color as graphics (as opposed to painting); it's good practice for the cover of The Human Cannonball #1, which has a similar layout. I'm also heavily into working with gold and silver ink. See the "Squidgods" nameplate? Colored in silver Sharpie. The goldenrod-colored areas are actually gold ink, which of course the scanner couldn't pick up, but that's okay. If I get it printed, I think I'll have them metallic-stamp those areas, to give it that blinged-out effect.
This image came out of a huge inspirational kick I got from reading Jeremy Bastion's Cursed Pirate Girl. After the letdown of an apathetic Con reception, reading this tour-de-force of art and whimsy really re-charged my artistic batteries, breaking me out of a claustrophobic Neil Gaiman- and Alan Moore-infused funk (what is it with British comic book writers? They depress the hell out of me). The Victorian-engraving looseness of Bastian's line drawings, as well as the inherent happy strangeness of his story, opened up a whole new comic world for me - one that wasn't endlessly drenched in gloom. He reminds me more of European comics, with their emphasis on illustration and whimsy.
It also reminded me that comics isn't just about business. I'd forgotten that in recent months. Dealing with DCP's teething problems, frustrated at the lack of recognition, and just plain ornery about the Con, I'd lost the art - for me, it had become all about "Oh God, what are we going to do about X, Y, and Z business aspect?" That's part of the problem of trying to start your own business - you quickly turn into an atavistic little Capitalist, whether you meant to or not. Sometimes I wish I could just hire some kind of manager, who could coordinate all the distribution, advertising, money, gigs, everything. Of course, as soon as you have a manager, you lose a huge chunk of your freedom - you might as well give up and work for an existing production company.
But that's over now. I'm back on the art. Right now, I'm even on a kind of "cover art" kick - I'm working on a cover for The Empty Quarter, and even Redtooth. First, though, I'll have to color the cover for The Human Cannonball #1. I'm looking forward to it.
Rick Out.
What makes a Binder Comic, you say? A Binder Comic is...
• contained within a binder, preferably with plastic sleeves
• penciled and inked entirely on printer paper
• begun with no particular plot in mind
• at least on hundred pages long
• takes at least a year to finish
• displays changes in the artist's style over time
• remains only in its original form for at least three years
Squidgods meets all these criteria. It is my second attempt at creating a comic book (after that scintillating classic, Matt Darkk and the Home Alien Control), and my first introduction of several characters I hope to use in the future, collectively called the Longshots universe (The official title is, Longshots #1: Squidgods. I'll probably post a blog about Longshots sometime in the future). After its completion in 2008, the poor thing languished for another three years in its binder, until, on a whim, I decided to dust it off and see what I could make of it.
Even upon a perfunctory inspection, one will notice that the quality is somewhat...well, "inconsistent" would be a polite word. "Scatterbrained" would be more apt. There is evidence of at least three or four different style changes throughout the comic, coinciding with three years of artistic development. And not sequential, either: after all was said and done, I had to go back and fill in all the gaps in the story. Taken all together, it's a pretty impressive piece of work (and artistically interesting); but as to whether it is printworthy, I'd have to say no - not unless I go back in and redo some rather poor drawings and inept layouts. If I was really, really serious about printing it under the DCP label, I might have to treat the binder comic as a visual script; I'd re-work the story to be more concise, carve everything into episodes, and re-draw the comic in a larger format. Even with the fat removed, it would probably run about seventy pages - seven issues of ten pages each.
At any rate, I'm not sure if I'll ever get it into full production; I might print one copy for my own appreciation and enjoyment. Just last week, I created a cover for it, with which I am rather pleased:
Longshots #1: Squidgods front coverYou're probably thinking, "Hey! It's in color! That's not the Rick I remember..." That's right, folks, Rick is moving into the Age of Color - reluctantly, kicking and screaming. This is one of my first experiments with color as graphics (as opposed to painting); it's good practice for the cover of The Human Cannonball #1, which has a similar layout. I'm also heavily into working with gold and silver ink. See the "Squidgods" nameplate? Colored in silver Sharpie. The goldenrod-colored areas are actually gold ink, which of course the scanner couldn't pick up, but that's okay. If I get it printed, I think I'll have them metallic-stamp those areas, to give it that blinged-out effect.
This image came out of a huge inspirational kick I got from reading Jeremy Bastion's Cursed Pirate Girl. After the letdown of an apathetic Con reception, reading this tour-de-force of art and whimsy really re-charged my artistic batteries, breaking me out of a claustrophobic Neil Gaiman- and Alan Moore-infused funk (what is it with British comic book writers? They depress the hell out of me). The Victorian-engraving looseness of Bastian's line drawings, as well as the inherent happy strangeness of his story, opened up a whole new comic world for me - one that wasn't endlessly drenched in gloom. He reminds me more of European comics, with their emphasis on illustration and whimsy.
It also reminded me that comics isn't just about business. I'd forgotten that in recent months. Dealing with DCP's teething problems, frustrated at the lack of recognition, and just plain ornery about the Con, I'd lost the art - for me, it had become all about "Oh God, what are we going to do about X, Y, and Z business aspect?" That's part of the problem of trying to start your own business - you quickly turn into an atavistic little Capitalist, whether you meant to or not. Sometimes I wish I could just hire some kind of manager, who could coordinate all the distribution, advertising, money, gigs, everything. Of course, as soon as you have a manager, you lose a huge chunk of your freedom - you might as well give up and work for an existing production company.
But that's over now. I'm back on the art. Right now, I'm even on a kind of "cover art" kick - I'm working on a cover for The Empty Quarter, and even Redtooth. First, though, I'll have to color the cover for The Human Cannonball #1. I'm looking forward to it.
Rick Out.
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