Posted by johnamor | Filed under Photos
Jad and I recently had our prenup photos done in the sprawling grounds of my college campus. It was a good day to be kids.
These were done by the geniuses over at Bigheads Studios. Pay them a visit if you have a pulse. The rest of it is Facebooked, natch.
Posted by johnamor | Filed under Work
An amusing little collage of my biggest artistic influences.
Click to biggify.
Almost ten years back, when I was still in college, I somehow got it in my head that a snotty little punk with animal powers would make for an amusing read. Because I had been involved with local comic movements that had then just hung up their hats, I needed an outlet to at least keep the juices flowing. BEAST BOY JOE was a semi-autobiographical comic which drew a lot from my days in UP. It was a personal project that I had drawn up to 66 pages for (with script assists by my good friend Eric Menguito), but none of it ever saw print… mainly because it was really something intended just for me… but also because I had no clue who would want to publish it.
Earlier this year, manly men Rey Siasar and Tom Perez from Big Ape Design approached me and asked if I had any material I wanted to develop into actual titles, and I jumped at the chance to resurrect Joe and hopefully finish the story. I’ve been redoing the dialogue since June, on and off, as my other projects remain top priority, but issue number one looks like it may very well be ready for the Cebu Comicon this September 25th. The book will still have the same art from all those years ago, with touch-ups here and there, but with an all-new script, so as to update the jokes and shit.
Simply retitled THE URBAN ANIMAL, my pop-culture mash-up description for it would be The Catcher in the Rye meets The Incredible Hulk. With some Archie thrown in. It’s a 4-issue black-and-white original graphic novel that’s literally just been waiting almost ten years to get published — a fun little romp I can’t wait to violate you people with. Give me money for it.
I was at the desk as usual a week or so ago, working on a page of 1888, when I felt like listening to an episode of Around Comics, a since-ended podcast by a buncha comic fans from Chicago. Lustmord was starting to get a bit too creepy for my taste by that time of night and Katers’ dry humor is always good. Without really giving much thought to which episode to listen to, I clicked on one of the early hundreds — one of the Skottie episodes — and just let it stream. It was AC 126, the tribute to Mike Wieringo, who had passed away on August 12, 2007, due to a heart attack. He was 44.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time away from the journal lately, to concentrate on work and wedding preparations. Naturally, marriage deserves a lot of attention, and there’s a handful of projects I’d really like to get done before the year ends, so I’ve really just been plowing through a lot of stuff. Unfortunately, work took a toll and caused a bit of an artistic burn out. Even the writing of this isn’t coming as naturally as I wish it would. Long story short, work has felt like work lately. And as dumb as that sounds, it’s really the only way I can put it.
But listening to that podcast, and hearing how Ringo inspired then-newbie artists like Skottie Young, Mike Norton, and Josh Middleton sent a bit of fire my way too. The man was a superstar who never let his success go to his head and continued to churn out work daily like he was still trying to earn a name he already had. Based on what these guys said about him, he never once thought of himself as a big deal, and this was after he had done stints on Robin, Flash, and Spidey.
And it struck me that here was a guy who didn’t lie about his creator-owned work being dearer to him than getting to work on the icons. Tellos was the personal high point of his career, and he returned to mainstream work so he could eventually do indie work again. But tragically, he never got to.
Too many of us whine about how hard the work can get, not even giving a thought to how much time we may or may not have left to even do it in.
I turned twenty-seven a week ago. And I just thought it apt to take the time to ackowledge that a creative block is, more often than not, a state of mind. A pitiful one. And I am left wishing that my work ethic was a lot more like Mike’s — someone who was and will always be an inspiration me.
Thanks Ringo. Comics are not the same without you.