In lieu of the usual top ten list, I thought I’d do something a little more interesting: the top five most influential artists, the ones who have helped shape how I approach and think about creative endeavours.
Which isn’t the same thing as being a favourite! I may love Hayao Miyazaki to death, but I can’t discern any real aesthetic impact he’s had on me in the way I can feel some of these guys entering my thoughts as I think about a story or open a sketchbook.
I’m taking a broad definition of artist here, with no restriction as to the medium.
(Probably unnecessary to say , but I feel like I should preface this list by saying that it isn’t intended to be a critical overview of the artists mentioned. So I’m not going to go into whatever points of contention there may be about them – aesthetic, moral or otherwise.)
Posted in fragments of culture, pop culture and its discontents
Tagged Art, Books, Charles Dickens, comics, David Lynch, Furries, Furry fandom, Gene Wolfe, Moebius, Movies
Work on my comic, Future Fairyland, continues apace, with a significant chunk of chapter 1 already drawn. In lieu of that, I’ve decided to draw a poster which I’ve included below the fold.
I’ve got a piece up at Beneath the Tangles giving a rundown on some of the 2017 JRPGs I played. Which makes this as good a place as ever to note that my attempt at playing Phantasy Star II crashed and burned some time ago: the dungeon design evolved from merely being sadistic to some sort of strange, chthonic architecture where even maps are almost useless. It broke me.
So the dubious slot of “derpy old-school JRPG I chip away at” has been taken up again by Romancing SaGa: Minstrel Song.
In addition to putting me in the frame of mind to pick The Lord of the Rings off the shelves again, my cold has also pushed me to revisit Peter Jackson’s movie adaptation of The Fellowship of the Ring (extended version), so I guess I have no excuse to not write about it.
My body decided to ring in the new year with an upper respiratory disease. During a particularly unpleasant night of congestion, I found myself moved to sketch out a five part story describing a different kind of bodily betrayal.
As usual, I compile a list of my favourite reads of the year, and as usual most of the entries don’t actually date from the year in question. I’ve decided to exclude graphic novels/comics, as at this point I think they deserve a separate list.
Entries are alphabetical by author.
Posted in Assigned Reading, fragments of culture, pop culture and its discontents
Tagged book of the short sun, Books, Comics and sequential art, Gabe Hudson, Gene Wolfe, Gork the Teenage Dragon, H is for Hawk, Helen Macdonald, Herodotus, Histories, Isaac Asimov, Literature, Ludovico Ariosto, Making Comics, Mort, Orlando Furioso, Scott McCloud, Second Foundation, T.H. White, Terry Pratchett, The Once and Future King, Will Eisner
Star Wars: The Last Jedi is a fascinating pop cultural specimen, in that it represents the franchise contorting itself into a weird shape in its attempt to subvert the impossible and often contradictory expectations foisted on it by its own fandom and legacy. It’s a hideous mess of a narrative structure held together by superglue and duct tape. Nevertheless, I greatly appreciate its attempt to rip Star Wars a new one.
And now it’s time to write about a notable movie released by Disney, a movie directed by a man who had a shot at greatness in the Star Wars franchise.
I’m sorry, but I’ve just had so many thoughts about Twin Peaks: The Return bubbling up inside of me. It’s probably going to take a while before I get them all out of my system.
Twin Peaks: The Return may very well be my new favourite David Lynch movie. I support this paradoxical statement by noting that Lynch, who directed every episode (an unusual feat even by prestige TV standards), supposedly thinks of the entire season as just one long movie; and indeed watching it feels a lot more like experiencing an 18 hour pop surrealist epic broken up into digestible pieces than it does like watching a normal TV show. But more to the point: The Return is, for all its flaws, Lynch’s magnum opus, the one project that sums up the man’s entire career.
(This wound up being a somewhat confused and rambling post! Scroll down at your own discretion)