Through the Prism

After passing through the prism, each refraction contains some pure essence of the light, but only an incomplete part. We will always experience some aspect of reality, of the Truth, but only from our perspectives as they are colored by who and where we are. Others will know a different color and none will see the whole, complete light. These are my musings from my particular refraction.


Socially Challenged Wanderers of the Earth

Just finished reading the first volume of a new graphic title, MBQ, by Felipe Smith. Shows promise. I certainly recommend giving it a try. The passage below is not indicative of the general tone nor style as it is the only apparent bit of meta-writing in the volume and lacks visuals, but it might give you a hint at where the young author/artist is coming from.

I draw, I tell stories. Graphic novelist, comic book artist, manga-ka . . . call it what you like. It’s just a title . . . I tell stories with pictures. The funny thing about what I do is I love it and hate it at the same time. I draw comics . . . Panels arranged neatly on a page, containing pictures and text. Pretty cool, huh?

I hate it. I hate comics. They’re wack. No one reads them. No one over the age of thirteen could give a darn about them. And if they do, they’re nose-picking, Dungeons & Dragons-playing, super hero-worshipping, mom’s basement-dwelling, socially challenged wanderers of the earth. But wait, I read comics, too . . .

I just see no personality in comics. Comics, like any other art form, should be a reflection of the artist himself, if there’s any hope for originality. Originality . . . something personal is original. Doing what everybody else is doing is not. This is what they call “classic,” and classics never die. So forever we’ll see caped beefcakes punching through walls . . . bounding over buildings and carrying large-breasted blondes in their arms through smoldering wreckages. I hate comics, but ironically, that’s what I’m here to do.

But I don’t want to draw super heroes, robots or aliens . . . No ninjas, no supervillains, no time-warping monsters. No gothic adventures, no magical quests. I’d rather clean toilet bowls . . . than draw shit for companies that just copy each other’s ideas. Instead of trying to create the next original hit, they merely imitate past hits. The result is a lame, uniform, unvarying, unchanging industry. I’m not gonna do that.

That’s why I don’t have a job. I need to get a job.


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