Detective Noir et La Chatte by Ryan Licata
He had dimmed the lamps, lowered the Venetian blinds, closed for business, but she’d come up the fire escape and in through the window; the way his cat did. Seeing her there, standing over him, wearing a slender, black dress, a white patch, an orchard pinned, upon her breast, he saw that she was like his cat in other ways too. He tried to stand up from his swivel chair, but she pushed him down. The chair held them both, pawing and purring, as she curled up on his lap. Yes, curiously, she was like his cat in many ways.
Notes
There’s a couple of interesting stories around this illustration. The first one is about the story. At one point Ryan told me he had this image in his mind of a noir detective and that noir detective had my face. So I tried to draw myself as that character. I see this as a first try, probably other versions will follow. The other thing is, that when I started drawing this, the ink cartridge of my Pentel Pocket Brush ran dry and the strokes became rough and dirty. Usually I would have stopped and replaced the cartridge, but I liked the effect so I just kept on drawing. And somehow the image turned to to be someting really unusual for me, but also something I really like. I will have to work on this style some more…
And since I really liked the original drawing here it is, unplugged and unphotoshopped.
Tomorrow (Ryan Licata)
A fly rested on the lamp nearby. Frank sat smoking; a deaf tap sent ash from his cigar falling like snow. Nobody was around. When a man has thoughts of tomorrow to contend with a fly has no place being there. Breathing cigar air, his hand relaxed, unfurled a fleshy palm. Minutes past; the fly edged across the lamp. Frank noticed the abundance of grey hairs entwined about his wrist watch; smoke fled from his nostrils. Seconds past; the fly flew its erratic way nearby, where, closed in tight by soft flesh, death came so slow it didn’t make sense.
Last Minute (Sbrizz)
Non c’era nulla in quel piccolo appartamento incastrato tra gli alti palazzi del centro. Nulla che potesse far pensare che una volta varcata la soglia per andare sul balcone, questo potesse nascondere un meraviglioso giardino. Immenso, irreale più di un sogno. Ma il salice era lì, sotto le sue fronde un tavolino bianco e due sedie di vimini. Il macha era già pronto, l’aroma si diffondeva dolcemente. Un sorso, poi un’altro. Era tutto quello che voleva in quel momento. Chiuse gli occhi e sorrise pensando che non avrebbe mai più dubitato delle offerte lastminute.
Notes:
I did the illustration for the first story (Tomorrow) directly on my sketchbook. For some reason, in my head, this story had a strong noire atmosphere and some kind of 50s touch. Don’t ask me why… maybe because of the cigar? In the illustration I tried to expand the concept of “thoughts of tomorrow” adding the memories of yesterday. Something I think is strictly connected together.
In the second illustration I tried to get back to my “Dog Show technique” to recreate the dreamy, surreal atmosphere of the story. It’s actually all made with pieces of photographs and some digital painting on it. Thanks to Night-Fate-Stock (deviantart) for the willow tree stock.
