Comic Books – with love.

I’ve been a rabid fan of the comic books for as long as I can remember. The XMen are still my favorites. Particularly Rogue.

Back in art school I’d fallen madly in love with Royo’s artwork as far as the comic books were concerned. Of course, Royo had done illustrations for Penthouse, not comic books, but his artistic genius gave the world something far more powerful and more profound – his warrior women. So take the comic book frenzy and mix it up with some twisted Royo fantasy and you’re most likely to have created the most amazing thing.

I got restocked on how-to’s on comic book characters and I’ve started working on some today. A little bit of motion, a little bit of tight sexy outfits… you know, the usual. I think I’ll take my chance on a male action hero tomorrow, I wonder if I can still do them. Of course I can, I’m kidding, I just need to practice. Blogging is cool for me, it’s like self-therapy. I keep talking to myself and everything is better. It doesn’t really matter if anyone else reads this, this is my playground and right now I’m about to show off some comic book material.

You’ll probably notice that there’s a Rogue lookalike in there. It’s actually one of my takes on my favorite girl. I’ll have to get a serious pen though, the tiniest of brushes is no match for my trembling fingers, dammit.



I’ve heard this word one too many times. I’m going to develop an allergy soon.

Seriously, allow me to exemplify.

Situation A:

Dude 1: Dude, did you see “Black Swan”? How was it?

Dude 2: It was deep, man, I’m telling you, so deep!

Situation B:

Dude 1: How about that Journey song?

Dude 2: Yeah, dude, it’s so deep.

Situation C:

Chick 1: So what do you think about James Franco?

Chick 2: Oh God, he’s like… so deep! He’s amazing!

Situation D:

Chick: Have you read “Catcher in the Rye”?

Dude: I’ve tried, but it’s too deep for me.

Unless they’re all crack babies, we have a problem.

Why is it that “deep” is the only word I get when I ask for an opinion about a book, a movie, a band or even a person? What happened to “intense”, “complex”, “exhilarating”, “fascinating”, “profound”… even “profound”!

I know I shouldn’t have such expectations from 90% of the carbon based life forms that I happen to share the species with, but still. Please. “Deep” is not an answer. You can use it once and get away with it, but afterwards it just gets so annoying. A pool can be deep, a Boa feather loving harlot from the red light district can be deep, the sea is deep, the shit that we’re slowly sinking into on a global level is DEEP, even my period pains are deep, but this is just too much.

This word has basically lost its sense, to me anyway. Just the other day someone was telling me that Ke$ha’s music is deep. She didn’t live to provide an argument, but that’s not the issue here. I’m having trouble with the use of the word “deep”. It’s being used excessively and its meaning is being taken lightly. No, lightly doesn’t even begin to cover it. People are pooping on the word “deep” and throwing it around with anything just to sound smarter.

Enough with today’s rant.

Have some more “recuperating art” from your one and only.

There’s a red absinthe ad and something that might work as a Valentine’s Day card. The red absinthe ad came up today, the pink/red things weren’t really supposed to come out like that but I just went with the flow and made up a slogan to go with it: Red Absinthe – Makes your blood cells bubble. The style is pretty much Art Nouveau, watercolor and black ink. You can notice that this girl’s smile is better than yesterday’s girl. Told’ya, progress.

I love red absinthe, a flaming shot of it is pretty much like knocking myself out, with a dash of cinnamon. The good part was that I could never remember much from an absinthe-night, thus no reason to feel embarrassed. My drinking buddies always suffered from the same type of hangover and so we were all just happy not to remember anything and ready to get on with the English breakfast and sturdy deserts needed to get our blood sugar back to normal levels.

The other lady, the creepy one with bloody tears, was inspired from a Royo conception. You could consider the pink things as flowers or just an abstract heart background, whatever you wish. I consider it a proper Valentine’s Day card because my favorite Valentine’s Day card is Happy Tree Friends’ Valentine Giggles. (Click it!)

I’m looking at a five hour train ride to Siena, so I’m blogging while I still can, I’ll come back in shambles and sink DEEP in bed.

Effing snow!

Imagine the amount of happiness that overwhelmed me late last night when I opened the kitchen window for a midnight smoke/snack and noticed large amounts of snow piling up on my balcony. I looked up and said “What the hell?!”. I didn’t get an answer, so I blamed it on the bad weather.

So it’s the 2nd of March and I feel like I’m stuck in Santa’s village – without the creepy yet adorable little elves. And without the Christmas carols. Funny enough, I started humming Frankie’s “Let it snow” right after I came to the conclusion that there was, indeed, snow on my balcony. There was also quite a blizzard last night, judging by the serenade that my shutters performed around 2-3 A.M. This particular part of Italy sure knows how to surprise me when it comes to weather. One day there’s sun and sparkly sprinkles, the next day it’s holy-fluck-what-the-hell snowy and grey.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Oh no, I had to drag my ass to the train station to get tickets for my weekend quickie to Siena. I climbed my way into the city center – I believe the public workers were still awed at the sudden change of weather and were unable to move – thus set in motion those tractors and plow the damn streets. I got from snow to lake in less than a minute. Puddles, puddles, puddles. And they all graciously went into my boots. Thank you, China, for making the worst pair of boots. Definitely the last time I’m buying from a Chinese shop. I’m sorry, but everything I’ve gotten from a Chinese shop made me Hulk-angry. I won’t even describe the gallons of blue paint that moved from a pair of jeans onto my skin. Took me a while to figure out why my thighs were blue. I thought they ran out of air!

The main alley that leads to the train station felt like a continuous Glee experience. Trees kept dropping snow slushies all over me. My comfort degree had already reached alarmingly low figures and I hadn’t even bought the tickets. I froze my ass off on my way back.

— And that was a long and unwelcome break from my creative process. I’d started working on my own take of a particular Royo conception. The trip to the station ate more than two hours of my otherwise well spent time. If it weren’t for all the pretty white fluffy squishy snow, the entire process would’ve taken me 30 minutes.

So I’ve only got one piece for you today. Hope you enjoy her.

She is nothing compared to the work of BRIAN M. VIVEROS — this man is my new idol. Well, next to Royo, but still, it’s an extremely honorable position for any artist. I’m talking about contemporary art here. I love his style. And I’m finding myself drawn more and more into the magnificent art of illustration. But Mr. Viveros knows his stuff – he does have one strong pair of balls, judging by his subjects. There’s nothing I love more than a cigarette sneaking out of a pair of red hot lips, oil on wood, and I’m very very straight.

I’ve also discovered today. That’s after a week of digging through

I think this is going to be one hell of a year. And not in a bad way – more like the I’m-going-to-laugh-my-ass-off kind of way.

While I keep my brain busy with fantasy art, fashion illustrations and a new book (the second, the first one’s on hold, I need to grow up before I can continue writing it), I’m leaving you with DAVID DIETLE — one of my recent favorites. He’s got a blog HERE and he writes some of the greatest articles for and not only. Either way, please do give him a read, my abs are still hurting from last night’s reading session.

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