Taking a stab at comic art
And cheating at it along the way. I drew all throughout my childhood, a sheet of not-to-be-blank-for-long paper perpetually in front of me and a pencil feverishly scritching away drawing maps, wars, and terrible comics. It probably wasn’t until the eighth grade and Jason Dixon, talented sonofabitch that he was, that I realized I couldn’t actually draw. Didn’t stop me from doing loads of really awful comics in high school, though. A few friends would make up our own goofy superhero comics and pass them out to one another. Mine tended to be tongue-in-cheek “homages” to popular characters, such as Clawman, who broke the fourth wall and acknowledged he was a Wolverine ripoff, or Buttman and Rectum, who … well, the less said about them,…
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