papernoise blackbook

Sorry, still none of my regular posts. But in the meantime here’s a small preview of a comic I’ve been working on lately. It’s about the fathers of goth rock Bauhaus and it will be published in the upcoming anthology Guida illustrata al frastuono più atroce #2 by the Italian punk comic group Lamette. I really like the vintage film touch I managed to give to this panels. Basically it’s the “Dog Show technique” adapted to b/w. The text is a variation on the Bauhaus hit Bela Lugosi is Dead. That’s why it all looks like some old horror movie.

Nocciola by Alessandro Bonino

I coniugi Mario e Laura Piovano, di Serravalle Scrivia, in provincia di Alessandria, avevano cercato per molto tempo di avere un bambino senza, purtroppo, ottenere alcun risultato. Su consiglio del Dottor Alberto Miniati, primario della clinica San Michele Arcangelo di Cadelbosco di Sopra, provincia di Reggio Emilia, grande luminare che aveva seguito tutti i loro infruttuosi tentativi, decisero di intraprendere l’estenuante percorso dell’adozione. Dopo dieci lunghi mesi, ricevettero finalmente la comunicazione che un bambino era stato loro assegnato. Grande fu la loro sorpresa quando scoprirono che non si trattava affatto di un bambino, ma di una strega di nome Nocciola.

Notes

I’m finally back with some hundred word stories! I was really starting to miss them. The author of this first story of 2010, is yet another new entry in the project (I get quite some requests lately, and that’s great!). I’ve been drawing people in suites for so much time now (Gietz has something to do with is, in case you wondered), that it becomes quite automatic for me to draw a tie on a male character…

With all that Jazz and history in my mind I sometimes forget about the things that really keep going and doing art. Thanks god I have sketchbooks ( and have to scan them in for this blog) to remind me that my path goes in a completely different direction.

Actually there’s a lot I could say about this topic, but the time hasn’t come yet.

This shadow lady just keept haunting my mind for weeks until I decided to get rid of her by drawing her on this piece of paper.

The frequent reader of this blog might recognize that this is a sketch for one of the first illustrations I made for the A Hundred Words Stories project.

A retired general.

I’m sorry as usual for not posting them yesterday as I should have. But you’re good hearted readers, aren’t you?

L’uomo fiore di Cubber

All’inizio, le era sembrato divertente: dovunque venisse toccato,
l’omino sputava un mazzo di fiori.
La testa sembrava un papavero; lei ne guardava la silouette nera,
esotica, contro la luce del sole.

Quando i bulbi oculari scoppiarono in corolle variopinte, lei rimase
interdetta; addirittura si irritò quando, dopo aver cercato di
travolgere l’omino con spintoni più energici, non ottenne che nuovi
mazzolini, bellissimi, impassibili.

Adesso intorno a lei non ci sono che petali. Sconfitta, cerca di
muoversi il meno possibile: ha imparato che il minimo movimento non
farebbe che generare altra vegetazione; e poi, gli ultimi fiori
esplosi brulicavano di parassiti.

Notes

As you can see, another issue of  A Hundred Word Stories must go with only one story. Unfortunately my time for at least a couple of weeks will be really little, so I’ll do one a week, alternating an English story with an Italian one. Please be patient, after Bolzano Comics is over I should be able to return to my old posting rhythm!

Heat Rise by Carl Mills

The heat rose through the floorboards and stained the walls with humidity.
Her eyes were like the bluest sky, clear and cool. Then that smile spread across her pure pale skin like a feverish flood and I was under her spell.
All my good intentions slid silently from my mind and all I could do was stare. Like a rabbit in a headlight.
The sun shone through the dirty window, lighting up her mass of crimson curls like a forest fire.  I wanted to run deep into the night. Far from her poisoned magic. But I was frozen with desire.  She reached out, took my trembling hand and whispered softly in my ear as her madness drowned my memory.

Senza titolo by Lapin

Sono marionette particolari: i fili vanno legati sia alle mani che ai piedi del marionettista.
Quando balla, le marionette si divincolano come inquisiti sotto tortura.
Ad ogni capriola, aggiunge un’altra marionetta. Manovrandole con maestria inaudita, riesce a fare in modo che siano le marionette stesse ad attaccargli addosso nuove marionette. Il movimento con cui una marionetta cattura un’altra marionetta ricorda quello di una catapulta.
Alla fine, è talmente ricoperto da marionette che non lo si vede più. Rimane solo un groviglio di pupazzi che torcono le braccia di legno in direzione degli spettatori, ammiccando con cento feroci occhi di vetro.

Notes

The illustration for Heat Rise is certainly a bit strange when compared to my usual way of doing illustration. It’s something that might not even look like I’ve made it. But somehow that’s what projects like A Hundred Word Stories are there for. While I try to focus as much as possible on one consistent style in my commissioned work, I still need to experiment and try different approaches.
The puppets of the second story on the other hand resemble more some older works of mine. Here I had some great fun, my mind visually expanding the complex and vivid imagery of the story.

I made a really weird dream, so weird I had to draw it. There were these laidies, really tall ladies, dressed with long black coats. And when they opened their coats tentacles would come out and drag you into the black space they were hiding inside.

My desk in the old flat. Before I got me a real computer.

Hidden by Ryan Licata

She ran, remembering never to look back. On the other side of the woods she saw the old Mill, just as she had seen it drawn in her story book at home. The door had been forced off its hinges, then propped up precariously, barring the entrance. The door was too heavy for her to move but she was small enough to crawl through the gap. Sunlight broke through the windows where boys had thrown stones. Finding the darkest corner, she crouched down and embraced herself. She could hear them calling out her name but she knew not to answer.

Chopin, Bolero op. 19 di Cubber

La guerra era finita.
Attraverso l’afa tropicale, il generale osservava sorridendo il proprio avversario. Era un ragazzo giovane, estremamente bello, e reso ancor più bello dal terrore, che rendeva esangue la sua pelle scura. Il generale sorrideva, sfiorando l’oro e le carte sudice. Il ragazzo teneva le proprie come l’offerta a un suo dio variopinto. Il generale amava scommettere l’oro contro la vita, amava giochettare con l’oro scommesso, sotto gli occhi degli avversari tremanti.
Come mi aveva ordinato, prima dell’ultima mano gli allungai non visto la carta vincente.
Anche l’afa rendeva più belli il terrore, e la morte, del giocatore.

Notes

The first illustration I made for Hidden was a very interesting one, but completely wrong. For some reason my mind did not record the first sentence, so the output was a woman looking back with terror in her eyes. I liked the mute film look of the illustration, but of course had to ditch it. As most of the time, I like the new illustration a lot more. The “wrong” one can be found here on deviantart.com.

Cubber’s story is about a man (we assume some kind of warlord in some kind of tropical land) playing cards with a young, terrorized man. It’s life for gold, and he’s going to win (by cheating of course). Hence the idea of a different kind of cards, which can be both the card of the winner and of the looser, as you like. Drawing those cards made me want to draw a whole set! I think I’ll do it as soon as I find some time…