in march i re-started the third episode of moses jones: apocalyptic mama with this page. before that i had gotten several pages into a third episode only to realize i didn’t like the direction & wanted to change it…. plus my real life relationship went from trying to work it out again–to finally giving up on it for good.
so i killed off dusty rather than reuniting with him as i had started to….
plus i wanted to rework the artwork a bit & return to some of the more edgy art i had used for the mojo prototypes.
i wrote three pages of the new episode…then petered out in the spring of this year. but all of a sudden, as i am laying in bed trying to fall asleep, i have started writing new pages in my head. i know what is going to happen now! yay! but the problem with comics is…it takes for fucking ever to get from point a to point b. you know, layout, blue pencil, rough drafts, and 17 pages just to express one idea. and if you are a luddite like me–doing the whole thing with pen & brush on paper rather than using a computer program…eternity.
i have started writing the script & it is just flowing out of me.
so…here’s a little of what is going to happen next.
(if you are interested & want to know what is going on, i have two pages on this site dedicated to moses jones. i am not sure about the artwork…but you can at least catch up on the plot so far.)
moses jones…episode three…homicidal mama
moses & the minions come out of the woods and over a rise to see the house ahead of them.
the minions stop around her.
moses: something is wrong
they are all quiet & still
fidgit: i hear a baby crying
moses picks up misha & breaks into a run.
moses: what happened?
malcolm: where were you? why weren’t you here? you should have been here!
moses: where’s lucy?
malcolm: she’s dead! you weren’t here. we needed you. but fucking moses jones has to do what moses jones has to do. fuck what everyone else needs.
moses: what happened? where is she?
malcolm: do i look like a doctor? she died. she had a baby & it killed her.
susan: (whispers) there was so much blood.
malcolm: shut the fuck up, susan.
moses: what about the baby? is the baby okay?
malcolm: fuck the baby!
moses: can i see lucy? can i see the baby?
malcolm: no! (stalks off)
moses: (to susan) has he let anyone see her?
susan: cheetah is in there. he is cleaning her up.
moses: where’s the baby?
susan: (shrugs) maybe with one of the others? oh! i think amanda has it.
moses: who’s amanda?
susan: some girl that dusty brought here while you were gone. she stayed here when he went looking for you. did he find you?
moses: (without hesitation) no.
susan: so he’s still out there?
moses: i don’t know. so where’s this girl then? wait–was dusty supposed to let me know lucy was in trouble? was he supposed to find me to get me back here?
susan: um…i think…i think her labor had started…i don’t think he knew that was a problem? he showed up right after you left. him & that girl. i don’t remember for sure what was next. he went to get you though. you didn’t see him out there?
moses: no. so what happened? what went wrong?
susan: she was in all kind of pain. she said something was wrong. she knew something was wrong. she collapsed. then she had the baby. then she started bleeding & wouldn’t stop. there was nothing we could do. i don’t know why malcolm blames you. i don’t know what you could have done.
moses: he’s in pain. he needs to blame someone. maybe it is my fault.
susan: there’s nothing you could have done.
moses: you don’t know that. if i had gotten back in time–
so there it is. my work in progress. now i have to finish writing script & start thinking about layout.
i will probably skip the blue pencil…y’all should know how much i love my mistakes.
a project i am working on is going through old art journal entries and picking the ones that speak loudest to me to do a more polished version of. if i like the artwork or the poem, i will re-do it, polishing up the words & images.
so i was wondering if anyone had any requests? you can look through any of my “look at me” pages and let me know if you want me to do an improved (take more than my usual fifteen minutes & use good paper) version of the page.
just an idea.
otherwise, i will be following my own path, as usual.
my first poem & self-portrait have been posted–go check it out. also check out all the awesome writers posting on the literati mafia.
holy crap this is the longest i have spent on a drawing/ink painting in quite a bit. usually i spend about fifteen minutes on a journal page. but this one, i did a rough in my journal (as usual) and then spent time & used good paper to do a final. i like how it turned out. funny story…i was almost done and went to put away my black ink when–ah fuck! i spilled ink on the page i had been working so hard to make less messy than my usual. but i kind of like the ink spill. i am considering making it part of my signature on every piece from now on.
the poem is a bit different as well.
(and also the same)
it’s a little more disjointed than usual. i thought i should make it into a longer more prose-y piece, but after writing a longer more prose-y and cohesive piece, i decided i liked my disjointed verse better.
it’s the same story…but with a little more effort.
*this is a work in progress
for anyone who wasn’t with me for my whimsical ink stain adventure (all of them are on one of the pages up there) that started with inktober 2016 when i discovered my love for making inkstains and finding pictures in them,
this is what the process looks like.
i make an ink stain, dripping ink randomly on wet watercolor paper.
i let it dry.
then i just stare at it.
for as long as necessary.
and it helps me to expand on my drawing style and discover new creatures.
i haven’t done it in awhile…not since last inktober when i started the month of ink…but then pooped out.
however, i was thinking
of writing another letter to seymour
and i started this inkstain as a page on which to write crazy broken poetry about love
i keep asking the universe for a sign that i should either keep up my pilgrimage…or give up on it.
i mean, i guess you could say that seymour’s ignoring of my ongoing expressions of devotion is a sign in itself.
but i would really like something more definite…if that’s not too much to ask.
*i like to post the process of these pictures because it is interesting to me how they develop.
you may have noticed
that my favorite subject is me
just like all the other great artists
i am available
but here’s the thing. i don’t look at myself when i draw myself. or, rather, i look inside at me instead of outside at me.
when i look in a mirror or at a picture of myself,
sometimes i am all like, “hey, hot stuff.”
other times i wonder when i became a bloated hag.
so i tend to avoid mirrors & photos
especially when i do a self-portrait.
like check this out…
here is a photo i took because my hair today looked like the way i draw it. so it was my proof that i’m not always exaggerating. then i decided to show y’all how i draw a self-portrait from an actual face of mine.
i am not a portrait artist.
i like the way i look in my head…or, rather, the self-portraits i draw while remembering what i look like…or what it feels like to be me.
i draw me the way it feels to be me.
that is my creative process.
disclaimer: i took like five minutes to do each of these self-portraits as my minions are waiting impatiently to go for a walk.
if i stop
to take inventory
i’m not doing
not so bad
if i stop
& take inventory
i see that
if i stop
to see who i am
i see that
i’m not so awful
not so awful
as i’d thought
if i stop
to see who i am
i see that
quite a good person
last night i kept myself from being drawn into a fight with dusty. a fight via texting. a fight we have had many times. furious messages flashing back & forth between his smart phone & my dumb one. (his messages flash a bit faster than mine.)
i did respond, with minimal engagement, to let him know i was getting his texts and that my feelings on the matter were indeed final. if i don’t respond, he will become more & more hysterical & paranoid. i can’t have him doing that while he is with our children.
but obvious ploys to evoke a response, i let them slip past me like keanu reeves in the matrix.
so i was actually quite proud of myself for that.
though i have an almost full bottle of whiskey, i chose instead to do yoga and have a cup of jasmine tea.
look at that, y’all. it’s like i’m growing up or something.
bonus for anyone who made it this far…i did a rough draft/sneak preview of moses jones page four. very rough…in fact, the final draft might not look anything like this….
sometimes depression can help my art.
art helps with my depression.
and who better to embrace while severely depressed than my tragic alter-ego, moses jones: superstar.
doing this little bit of this page really helped. before i started working on it i was just listening to goyte tell me “your heart’s a mess” on loop (& i’m all like, “no shit, goyte…way to state the obvious….”)
so much crying.
i’m sure i will art journal about it…this feeling so fucking alone and of waiting for someone to throw me a line….
oh, wait, i guess i ended up throwing myself a line.
(threw myself a line/drew myself a line…you get it)
so this is where i will be if you need me.
drawing the line.