I’ve been reading Grant Morrison’s gushy-trippy memoirish, Supergods, lately — since about a week after learning of it by way of this post in Darrell’s series meandering among the pagans, currently in progress. (Go take a look.) I mention in a comment there that I hadn’t heard of the book. Actually, I had no idea who Morrison was before reading that post. That tells you something about extent of my appreciation of comic book culture.
I seem not to have much use for this site anymore but to post very occasional HB sketches. If I really were a great Mignola fan, that might be alright, but I don’t think I am. I’m a middling Mignola fan at best, and I have plenty of other stuff to keep my mind occupied. Still, something I feel I ought to be able to do here — though I won’t take time for it now or probably anytime soon — is talk about the appeal this character has for me in spite of Mignola’s apparently shallow conception (as interviews with him generally seem, to my mind anyway, to attest) of him and his little story world.
Scratchy little (~ 3 1/2” high) red pen Hellboy on 3 × 5 card. Drawing very infrequently these days. Interest in Mignola stories flagged a while back & has stayed low. But I still like the idea of playing with this.
Still the occasional light noodling & doodling (in ballpoint, here) on Mignola characters. Male ones, that is. I haven’t come up with the nerve to fool around with his female characters yet though they’re key, no question, to what makes the stories appealing.
Flannery O’Connor by Jesse Hamm
Just came across (though it appears to have been around forever) this illustrators’ site. Have a look: eye candy for book lovers.
This sense of being outside of time, which Hergé worked so hard to create, is one of the deep springs of Tintin’s popularity. Children, who have a similar sense of existing outside of normal adult time, identify with it. For them, as for Tintin, what matters are the attachments and attractions that surround them here and now. And though I no longer think like that, Hergé’s work is so skilful that when I read Tintin today, I slip back into his timeless world. Apostolidès and Assouline try valiantly to pull back the curtain and show us the ropes and pulleys of Hergé’s magic act. But I am not sure that we want this. Tintin is too good a trick to spoil with explanations.
Thoughtful close to a not-too-long review of two books recently available in English — one a biography of author-artist Hergé and the other a study of the Tintin oeuvre. Thanks are to Gideon Strauss, who linked to it on Facebook.
[I]t appears we have stopped celebrating, or even acknowledging, the very thing that defines our entire race — our humanity. We are offering it up, as though sacrificially, to the machines we create and worship.
Because of this almost inevitable crisis of self, we find it important again, maybe now more than ever in the history of art making, to cling to our most basic possession — the human form. Call it a quiet revolution — the lone artist embracing the representation of man again . . . .
What a piece of work is a manifesto sometimes. Haha. Okay.
But the show should speak for itself, if Kent Williams’ own painting to be included in it is any indication. (Do, do click to enlarge!) For this even I would take off to southern California, if I could.