Monthly Archives: October 2013

For The Furtherment Of The Empire

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Let’s take a moment and congratulate Mr Robert Negrete for doing a wonderful job drawing the first issue of Action Hospital. Without his amazing line-work and emphasis on detail there would be no Younger and no Action Hospital. It’s just that simple. He’s a work horse and a talented guy. I’m luck to get to work with him.

I hop that you’ve enjoyed our story so far, and I hope that the next issue will keep you on the edge of your seat in the same way that the first issue did.

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Life is a pretty strange thing. I know that seems fairly obvious but it’s pretty bizarre how things rapidly change, evolve, or otherwise transform in the blink of an eye.

I’ve been working like crazy on movie and comics stuff, as of late. If you’re wondering, Yes, Action Hospital Issue Two is all drawn and currently in the process of being lettered. This one will be a double sized issue coming in at round 18 pages. If you couldn’t tell by the cover, which just went up today, I’m drawing and writing this issue. Robert is hard at work on the third issue, which will feature the return of Younger the Vine Walker. For now we’re going to be following the cast of characters that I’ll be drawing. So, y’know, Boy Detectives. Hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t deviate away from what you know how to draw.

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In progress cover to Issue 2

This past month has been an insane blur. I worked on a horror movie with some of coolest people I’ve ever met. I mean that literally. Previous to working on this film, I had been feeling tired, worn down, and just generally in a funk. Sure, it was hard work, but I had an amazing time working on this flick.

I suppose I should just tell you a little story, which will put this all into perspective. The first day I was on set, the producer of the film walked up to me and asked if I was ok or if I needed anything. This is unheard of. Producers usually don’t give two shits how you’re doing. They’re freaking out about the budget or about some actor who hasn’t shown up or about how they need a blue shirt for the scene because the wall behind the star is green. Something along those lines. So right out of the gate, I knew that this was going to be a fun job. If the producer is nice and calm that means that even when the shit DOES hit the fan everything will be fine.

Additionally, there was something familiar about this producer. I could swear that I knew her from somewhere but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Over the course of the first day, I had a few different opportunities to chat with her and she was one of the kindest and most honest people that I’ve ever met. I spent the entirety of that afternoon racking my brain attempting to deduce where I had previously made her acquaintance.

Towards the end of the first day I was chatting with the head of my department, a lovely girl named Aimee, and the topic of how nice the producer was came up.  Abruptly, she asked if I was a horror movie fan, and of course I said I was. She asked if I’d ever seen a film called Sleepaway Camp, to which I scoffed that of course I had. I loved Sleepaway Camp. Aimee, with a little glint in her eye, said that Felissa, the producer of our movie, was the star of Sleepaway Camp. And then it all came rushing back to me. Like that scene where Liam Neeson freaks the fuck out at the carnival in Darkman. There it was. I’d been talking to Angela Baker all day and I hadn’t known about it. My head exploded.

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Felissa Rose, mother fucker!

That’s the kind of experience I had. It was so much fun. I got to hang out with Beverly Randolf from Return of the Living Dead, Kim Poirer from the Dawn of the Living Dead remake, and a fine gentleman named Eric Roberts. It was insane. The entire cast was so gracious, so kinda, and completely the opposite of what you’d except. I spent the majority of the shoot desperately attempting to keep my cool.

If you haven’t seen Sleepaway Camp or Return of the Living Dead, do yourself a favor. They’re both wonderful. Dan O’Bannon, the writer of Alien, directed Return of the Living Dead. It’s one of the most influential zombie movies ever made, most people just don’t realize it. You know that age old idea that zombies eat brains? That came from Return of the Living Dead. Go out and watch it, friend.

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Beverly Randolf from Return of the Living Dead!

Movies, man. They’re the best. The absolute best.

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On the writing front I’m working on two different super sweet movie things that I CANNOT WAIT to talk about. I’m so ecstatic about them I’m bursting with excitement. One of the super top-secret things I’m working on is LITERALLY a dream come true. And that’s all I’ll say about that.

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I’ll just leave you with this. I’ve been listening to it on repeat for a good week now. It just keeps getting better every time.

Buying A Sketchbook Is Super Frustrating (Why Come They Had To Stop Making The One I Like?)

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Up All Night With Nowhere To Die 

Finding a new sketchbook is a personal war based almost exclusively in fetishistic futility.

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I, like most illustrators, have a very specific set of criteria associated with the tools that I utilize in my work. I use a specific type of pen, the Staedtler pigment liner, I use a specific type of paper, and for more expressive areas I use a japanese brush pen. These are the tools that I use. It’s just how it is. These are the instruments that allow me to create in the most effective manner. Illustration is a never ending battle. oh, sure. It’s a simple enough idea. You draw a bunch of pictures on a page. In reality it’s a language. The size of the panel, how much space in between each panel, the number of panels, and the composition within each panel really matter. If you don’t speak it, it shows.  Everyone should make comics, but when you’re just learning the language, it shows. That’s why when people from outside of the comics industry come in and create work, more often than not, it’s terrible. Just because film and comics share common narrative elements doesn’t mean that they’re the same thing. Additionally, direct panel for frame narrative adaptations are often so bland and unexciting because of the same principle in movieland. But let’s get back on topic, once an illustrator figures out what the three or four weapons he or she needs to succeed in the Thunderdome that is making comics there’s no time for ‘experimentation’. It’s time to make comics.

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A sketch book is essential for making comics. I use my as a journal/ideas folder/character design file/thumbnail registry. For the past five years or so I’ve used a sketchbook that could only be bought at Barnes and Noble. It was make by the American Standard Press company. It was a beautiful construction of paper and glue and leather with sheets so hard and smooth it was like drawing on glass. I’ve been working in these things for a good long while, obviously. And on my last trip to restock can you guess what happened? The company doesn’t make them any longer. This is an artists worst nightmare. The fact that a tool, that was taken for granted, has now been removed from my arsenal is quite vexing.

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After a few days of hunting I finally settled on a Moleskine sketchbook, which is the first time I’ve ever used the company’s product for any serious amount of time. So far the book is working fine. The pages are slightly too thin for my tastes. The ink from my pens bleeds through and can be seen on the backside of the paper. This is negligible, though.

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The interesting thing about this Moleskine book is that it’s bound at the top, like a journalist’s notebook. It’s both slightly alien and intriguing. It’s forcing me to come at my thought-drawing composition from a different perspective.

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Until next time, friends.

 

Dave

Hollywood, Ca 2013

 

 

 

 

Heisenberg Lives

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Run

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Breaking Bad is over. It’s finished. It’s completed. Its long and glorious run is over. I couldn’t be more happy with how everything turned out. Oh, sure. There are minor narrative threads left dangling like Gustavo Fring’s past in Chile and what ultimately happens to the tormented soul that is Jesse Pinkman, but the last half of season five of Breaking Bad is a big ass bottle of ‘Holy Fuck’. Never let it be said that Vince Gilligan is anything less than a master craftsman. His sense of narrative structure is impeccable. The show from top to bottom is a master class in storytelling.

Strangely enough the elements that impressed me the most out of the five seasons worth of material that Gilligan, Cranston, Paul and company generated was the meticulous attention to detail. I’m originally from the southwest. Arizona, specifically. In Arizona meth is a huge problem. I had whole swaths of friends that would dissapear for months at at time, and when they’d turn up again, they’d look ten years older. Meth, man. Meth. I had friends set their lives on fire with meth. Drugs in general run rampant in the southwest. In Arizona there’s really only two things to do to have fun 1) do drugs or 2) get pregnant.

Write What You Know (How Many Teenage Meth Head Friends Do You Have, Vince Gilligan?)

In Breaking Bad the teenagers talk like teenagers, the meth heads talk like meth heads. I know this seems like a pretty self explanatory thing, but it’s really not. There’s nothing worse than having a character who is supposed to be a teenage party monster being written by a forty something white guy who hasn’t been to a party in over two decades. I don’t know if Gilligan and co had ‘youth consultants’ or if they lurked on chatrooms but the speech patterns of the drugged out kids in the show is shockingly accurate.

I relate deeply with both Walter White and Jesse Pinkman. Unfortunately they’re perfect synecdoche for the most undesireable aspects of my personality. Walter White is an overly intellectual chemist who sacrifices everything he stands for in order to help his family. He compromises his morals in order to gain financial independence for his family. Now, I’m not saying I’ve ever been in a position to start a drug empire, but I’ve definitely made poor decisions out of a desire to ‘further a greater goal’. That is to say, while Walter White killed people and sold meth to babies I kept thinking, ‘fuck, that’s me’. I’ve never done anything even remotely as terrible as Walter White but, because of the surrounding ephemeral details, I felt that I could and that didn’t scare me. Which of course scared me. I relate to Jesse Pinkman, not necessarily through my own actions, but through people I’ve known. I knew a girl who took every single oppurtunity to fuck up. Any possible way she could make a situation turn out poorly for herself, she would. Self sabotage through self imposed ignorance. Every time that Jesse attempts to rise above a conflict or get things to workout for himself he fails. That’s just his lot in life. He’s built to fail. I’ve known a few people like that, and it’s the most emotionally taxing thing I’ve ever dealt with. The entire time I knew this person all I wanted to do was help her. I wanted her to succeed. I wanted her to rise above and have a happy ending. But I guess some people are just set up to live out a tragedy, no matter how badly they want a happy ending.

Take Things By The Teeth

Breaking Bad has obviously had a massive cultural impact. It’s on everyone’s lips. It’s the talk of the town. The phrase ‘I am the one who knocks’ is on t-shirts, for christ’s sake. Breaking Bad has done more to hopefully show young people the evils of meth than a thousand ‘Not Even Once’ ads. Let’s hope they’re listening. let’s hope that people aren’t just wrapped up in the glamor of the decent.

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Breaking Bad has helped me analyze myself as a person. I went into it expecting to watch a teacher transform from Ms Frizzle to Scarface and I left with a slightly deeper understanding of my own flaws and imperfections. Watching Aaron Paul weep struck a deeply rooted chord with me. I haven’t felt such a kinship with an actor ever. I mean that literally. Over the course of the last season of Breaking Bad Jesse Pinkman is forced to endure unspeakable horrors. By the end of it his face is disfigured, his eyes are swollen from crying for a year straight, and his body is irreparably damaged. I’ve experience pity for a character before. Where you just want to hold the character for a minute and reassure them that everything is going to be ok. But the sublime beauty with Jesse, and my friend, is that ultimately it won’t. There’s nothing anyone can do. They’re just build to fail. Built to be destroyed. Constructed to be deconstructed through their own poor decisions. They’re just not right in the head. I don’t mean that on a chemical imbalance level. I mean their cognitive abilities are warped. They just don’t perceive the same decision making pathways that you and I do. They can’t help it. They just don’t.

Breaking Bad is about so much more than meth. I don’t mean to sell it as just that. It’s about the emotional bonds that are severed when you lie. It’s about selfishness. It’s about meaning well and fucking things up, irreparably. It’s about confronting death. It’s about how money changes everything. It’s about how the road to hell is paved with the best of intentions. It’s about the future that you attempt to sell yourself. It’s about how the battle is lost the minute you start bargaining with yourself.