I haven’t written a post about the stimulusresponse side of life for a little while, and it occurs to me that I’ve been doing a bunch of these All-Caps Comics and might try and say something about them. Also, while I’ve been gathering some more thoughts of Modern Warfare 2, I haven’t jumbled them into any order, so.
So, I’ve been drawing a series of comics called “All Caps Comics”. They came about because one day, while writing my (theoretically) daily poetry, I decided to write it with the caps lock on just for the hell of it. I forget why exactly, but the effect of writing that way was to drain emotion out in a really strange way. Everything became a kind of direct broadcast from my brain, generally without much nuance.
And it’s a voice I liked quite a lot, so I pursued it. And, poetry being poetry and poetry being mysterious, the poems came out as odd conversations between two invisible protagonists. They talked about all kinds of thing, usually ending up in some kind on blunt non sequitur or inappropriate statement.
At the same time, I was getting bored of the things in my special bin (folder on my desktop) of ideas and sketches. Ideas have their time, and then they rot. That’s one of those things on the Cult of Done manifesto which, though I don’t agree with all of it, has some good general points. So anyway, I turned to these all caps poems as a way of generating content for new comics, since I’ve become obsessed with the idea of producing comics (or other things) as often as I find humanly possible. Preferably at least every two days, say.
And hence, the All-Caps Comics I’ve been doing, in which I take one of the poems and then try to make it into a little comic of people talking to each other. It’s been a bit of an adventure and the entire time I’ve been searching for some reasonable style for representing the strange flatness of the poems, while keeping it interesting to look at (as in, for there to be some kind of point in making it a comic at all).
I kind of suspect that these comics too closely refer to my own stupid inner thoughts and impulses, and thus come across as more or less incomprehensible to other. Well, that’s pretty much life. My feeling is basically that if I think too much about what might be rad for other people, I’ll be screwed and not draw anything at all.
Better the devil inside than the devil in the audience.