In the movie of my life, here was this morning’s scene: I’m in the cafe getting my morning takeaway, in heels and black dress for work function later, and I realise as I wait that I’m the only woman in the place. And the cafe is like a casting call for good-looking hipster blokes aged 28-40 auditioning for…*something*. Soundtrack: a-ha, Take On Me. PS It appeared to be a comedy, as my coat was covered in cat hair.
Of course I felt compelled to storyboard it.
Strange/silly but true
Yesterday was as cold as it gets here.
I made a zine out of a single sheet of paper today — you basically fold your page into quarters and quarters again, for 16 pages including a self cover, which is a form I could play with forever.
This one is called The Rules, because there are rules to how you build it. And that’s kind of what the text is about too. (We love a bit o’ self-referential art.)
What looks like the title is actually the first rule.
If you see me out and about, I’ll happily put one in your hot little hands, but there’s a catch: you have to construct it yourself. Feel free to bribe me to teach you. Or read the Rules for the Rules (aka instructions), below.
Those of you who aren’t going to run into me soon or are going “But I want it now” can download a copy. So here you go:
Here’s the tried-and-tested A4 version of The Rules.
I’ve tried to format it to US letter as well but I’m not sure if it will work.
(Maybe somebody in the US can have a go and get back to me on that.)
Catch: you still have to build it yourself. Plus print it out. Here’s how:
Rules for The Rules
- Download and print two-sided.
NOTE: Print head-to-head so the top left of one side reads “What if nothing goes according to plan?” and when flipped, the other side begins “Sometimes you will find…” reading vertically.
- Fold in half horizontally. Unfold.
- Fold the top and bottom in to the centre fold. Unfold.
- Crease these three folds again in the opposite directions.
- With paper unfolded, repeat folding process vertically, including re-creasing everything.
- Unfold paper and find the side with the dotted line, which goes in a squared-off spiral.
- Tear carefully along the dotted line. Make sure not to go past the corners!
- STOP AT THE X!
- Beginning with the page “Sometimes it is good to know what to expect before you begin.”, fold the pages back and forth til you get to one with the drawing, which is the front cover, and the one with the seven Xs, which is the back cover.
- Now you can read it. Maybe.
I’d love to know what you think!
Clear as mud?
Time for some gentle mockery of the local posters. (It’s either that or I’m gonna get myself a paintball gun…)
I’ve been taking drawing breaks instead of coffee breaks lately. Though honestly today I had both.
I’ve seen it worse, but the Central Market was pretty chaotic yesterday.
I love a bit of visual metaphor—it’s one of the unique narrative possibilities open to the comics artist. But it’s surprisingly rare. Lots of graphic novels, while well-drawn, read like illustrated scripts. Entertaining, but not making the most of the medium.
But last week, I picked up The Salty River, an autobiography by German artist Jan Bauer, and it’s been a delight to read. Every panel, every page, is beautifully designed, and the images do things words alone can’t do to expand the story’s emotional boundaries.
Learn more at Twelve Panels Press (where you can find this preview image and more).
Jan Bauer’s autobiographical graphic novel is about his trek through outback Australia in search of solitude
Cities are great for practicing observing, remembering, and drawing from memory. People come and go so quickly that you don’t get much time to see.
see, memorise, draw, improvise
Some days when I don’t know what to draw, a small narrative will reveal itself. Usually about process. Today, the story is how my hands are not really communicating with my brain. Could be the heat. Could be the caffeine.
hands wont listen
Scrawled from my favourite seat in town, the window at La Moka