The 200 Comics Challenge

I spotted a fellow artist (link) at DeviantArt twenty-some strips into a 200 Comics Challenge, and decided I should embark on it as well.

The rules designed for the preservation of my sanity are:

1) Black and red ink only.

Just like the old newspaper riddle, except ... literal? I tend to color nothing or everything in my work, so limiting myself to black, white and red should lend some expression, some dynamic look and/or simplicity to my panels. Who knows--maybe by comic #100 I'll be able to properly shade an object.

2) Don't overthink the (3-panel) strip: it goes beginning, middle, end.

My father and my wife both tell me that I think too much. It's true. The three panel strip is a lean creature. There's no room to draw people humming and tying their shoes, much less draw them humming then tying their shoes (unless that's the joke). The framework of a three panel strip is as rigid and free as a haiku.

See? I'm thinking too much already. The 200 Comics Challenge is a challenge, I think, of quantity and learning. I'll draw a lot and I'll learn. I'll be happy with that, even if I draw four strips a week and the whole thing takes me a year to finish.

On I go.

Knuckleball

This isn't a round-headed-kid by a brick wall, but something a bit like it.

Who remembers Matthew Lesko?

This guy, I mean. He is the Riddler's path to ultimate victory.

a slice of childhood, please

Though the online universe has busied itself with devising ways for me to waste more and more time, on occasion I stumble into a mildly pleasant "learning experience"--that is, the time invested reaps more than soon-to-be answers for so many pop culture trivia questions.

I recently re-discovered The Ren and Stimpy Show, that brainchild of animator John Kricfalusi. I watched some clips and sat stupified and in awe of how well it looked (well animated, at least, no matter the complications of production). I have since wondered how it escaped my radar for so long ... but while I knew of the show when it aired in the early 90s, I was nine or ten years old at the time and thought it was weird. I remember watching a lot of Doug and TMNT.

So after a dose of "Happy Happy Joy Joy" I drew the following ____ (cartoon? Image? Panel?). I wanted to make the smile on the kid look slightly deranged or untrustworthy, but I think it ultimately looks tamer than it should.

Boredom, pride, etc.

I drew this on a post-it note while at a medical-resident get-together. Repeatedly put me on the Tilt-a-Whirl, and give me a basketball, and something like this might happen. Put me in a room full of people talking about nothing (but work), and something like this might get illustrated.
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At right is a response to a professor's challenge to draw a "silent comic." True, it's got captions, but I'm sort of proud of it nevertheless. The last two panels were drawn several months after the first six, which were meant to be little more than "thumbnail" sketches for something more polished. I grew to like the scribbly look of it all.

Rogues Gallery

I've always wondered if Batman ever tired of the cartoonish nature of some of his adversaries.

And don't tell anyone, but this is actually cobbled together from two different sketches.

Speaking of zippers, I must also ask a classic question: how did this costumed fellow relieve himself?

On living in this new place:

Coincidence?

Much work, or no work at all?

I spent much of last week drawing the following scene ... called Cute Conscience:

And in an effort to draw something that appeared entirely grounded (instead of just scribbling some lines under a character's feet), I ended up drawing this ... and it's an image I loathe. A technical exercise in many ways (perspective, cross-hatching, drawing a receding hairline ... and so on). It's depressing to look at.

Maybe if the bird was a penguin, the whole thing would have been saved.

Then: last night, minutes before falling asleep, I drew this, called Valley Thriller:

Seriously ... I was at this one for less than five minutes. In my journal, no less (the other was on much, much nicer paper). And I like this one better.

I started out trying to draw a more conventional hairstyle. And then it became the girl of the 80s, in a zombie-pose that you see here. Fun stuff.

Slog, the Pugilistic Turtle

Courtesy of dictionary.com:

"slog (slŏg). Verb.

v. intr.

1) To walk or progress with a slow heavy pace; plod.

2) To work diligently for long hours.

v. tr.

1) To make (one's way) with a slow heavy pace against resistance. 2) To strike with heavy blows."

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Originally intended to be some kind of mad (or benevolent) scientist picture ... perhaps involving chickens, and this is what I ended up with. A pugilistic turtle (do you think he uses the 'hilly shell' defense? HAHAHA ... *ahem*), whose manager has a wild shock of gray hair and a cane that resembles a rooster, in some fashion.

Tutorial on Gleaning Artwork

1) Keep and use a sketchbook (don't tell me you're not creative. Everyone has this capacity).
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2) Select a page and scan it in a large, lossless format. At left, is a page full of stuff I drew while watching Fantagraphics co-founder / co-owner Gary Groth talk about the history of his company. As you can see, I pay attention like nobody else.
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3) Crop and clean. Congratulations! You've salvaged fun, if not fantastic artwork from your random musings!
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A] See that dog at the right? I call this "Dog Fields a Question as a Press Secretary." Why, he looks as keen and interested in reporters' questions as any we've had. Sure, it's not a polished picture, but the cross-hatching was fun, and dogs + jerry-built platform = cute.
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B] And that kid at the left? I call that "Self-portrait Palming a Book." I believe the book is called Chooga. Must be about trains. Or chants. Either way, that kid needs to improve his telekinetic prowess.