[via Pulphope]

Trying to remember how to draw R2-D2 while waiting on some pasta last night. Realized I never looked at him very closely.

Paul Pope doodling Star Wars? Nerd heaven.

[legend has it that Ernest Hemingway wrote a six-word story to win a bar bet — For sale: baby shoes, never worn. leading to the author’s birthday, I’m going to offer a daily post of my own six-word story. readers are encouraged to respond with their own]

“You are not a real American.”

Pulphope, holding in his hand the first one hundred pages of Battling Boy. I’ve been waiting for this book for a couple of years now, so to see such a tease pop up on his Flickr got me all sorts of hot’n’bothered.

The general premise of Battling Boy: the son of some sort of god/superhero has to come down from the mythical mountain to beat monster butt. Fairly simple story, with art to make the jaw-drop. The artist has hinted that this is going to be an unrestrained opus, with fight scenes taking up fifty pages at times.

Mr. Pope, feel free to bind those pages and send them to me via FedEx.

Paul Pope is not only an amazing comics-creator, but a true inspiration and one of my personal heroes. I admire Pope because of his ability to swoop into the world of comic books to deliver amazing stories  & fresh perspectives, and then stage an exit before falling victim to the pitfalls of the medium. I don’t know much about the technical aspects of illustration, but I know that every single panel of Pope’s work I’ve ever seen feels authentic/genuine/as though the man is incapable of phoning it in.

Although he’s  spun some of great  yarns about franchise-characters  , he understands that they fulfill a certain role. In an interview to address his exhibition at the Art Directors Club in New York City, Pope offered the following:

“They periodically kill off Superman or Captain America or Batman, then according to [formula], they resurrect them again. I don’t follow continuity comics unless a really amazing cartoonist is drawing the story, an Eduardo Risso or a Frank Quietly or a John Cassaday or a Steve Rude. I think superheroes represent themes rather than function as true characters in any literary sense. Because in real life and in literature, people and characters make choices and have a destiny, and must necessarily change–maybe for the better or the worse– but they are substantively different from the person they were at the beginning of the story. The superheroes don’t change, the guardians of the franchise don’t want to change them, and the audience probably doesn’t want it either.”

So although I enjoy the hell out of Batman Year 100 (which, roughly speaking, reads to me as a cross between the Batman mythos and a Bladerunner-styled technofuture), Pope’s original works are the creations to which I am most drawn. For an amazing testament to the power of sequential art, I strongly recommend 100%. Despite being a bit of a cynic, this book makes me believe in the value of love and art and trying to make the most out of a life that often seems utterly insignificant. And while this all sounds great in theory, Pope’s execution is nothing short of perfection.

As a student of narrative, there’s been many a night in which I’ve asked myself, “What’s the fucking point of this stuff? Why should I even bother concerning myself with the past? What can fiction do for the world?” The best answer I’ve ever received comes on the eighteenth page of Pulphope, Pope’s collection of art and essays:

“When I need my own mirror of men and angels, I too turn to hear the voices of the dead. Without even having faith in mystics, I too turn to take my cue from dead mystics. When I need voices, I turn to Emerson and Thoreau. Their Transcendentalism rings a bit hollow to me (I am no Platonist), but their words still ring clear and true. I turn to the dour civics of Confucius and the clear-eyed cynicism of Machiavelli. The life-embrace of Epicurus. I turn to the dreamtime of Jung and the pastorality of Tolkein. And to others. These poets and philosophers are the whispering dead I hear, pointing the way to the road which leads out of this inferno. These are the dead on the roof with me, these are my Virgils. They point their parchment fingers toward the arc of the heavens, helping make sense of a meaningless rising moon and a mute and dumb setting sun.”

Today, the mailman dropped off a limited edition Paul Pope print from the folks at Nakatomi Inc. The one-sheet is a tribute to Guido Crepax, an Italian comics artist of yesteryear whose work is (apparently) marked by sexually-charged female figures. The 13×19 variant features babes, motorcycles, and a shootout; in other words, it’s dope.

I couldn’t be happier with this print. Beautiful in its own right, I’m going to hang it with the added satisfaction of knowing that I possess a limited edition poster created by comic books’ most inspirational, if not underappreciated, artists.

I don’t have much hope — but I have Pulphope.

In addition to the twist conclusion of Ed Brubaker’s entire run, Daredevil #500 features an addendum that happens to bring with it a hope for tomorrow. More precisely, the pin-up section includes a piece by Rafael Grampa that can only be described as fucking amazing.

Grampa’s Daredevil (pictured above) is both refreshing and reverent — the old yellow/red costume has never looked more vibrant or alive, full of that indefinable essence that readers perceive as artistic enthusiasm.

Staring at the pin-up for quite some time, I became enamored with its realistic depiction of Matthew Murdock. Although much more impressive than my scrawny frame, the physique of this Daredevil appears to be no greater than that of any modern mixed-martial artist. Furthermore, the bootlaces, shirt, leather straps and boxing gloves summon the same spirit Paul Pope conjured for Batman Year 100, the notion that maybe, just maybe, superheroes could exist.

Having never heard of Rafael Grampa, I decided to find out for myself whether he was just a rip-off artist of Paul Pope (of whom I have invested much of my fanboy stock) or a legitimate talent. After making my way to his blog, I am now ruling in favor of the latter.

Rafael Grampa, which (according to my nonexistent understanding of Portuguese) roughly translates to Raphael Grandfather, is apparently quite the sensation in Brazil. He is a well-known graphic artist, designing not only comics but t-shirts, animations, toys, and even concepts for ESPN ads. The man even has a column at the website for MTV Brasil, which I would check out if English weren’t my only language.

So once I understood Grampa to be a respected (rising) star of sequential art, I made the egregious mistake of wondering, “What other superheroes can he draw?!?!” It didn’t take me long to find this:

In my estimation, that is a sick Batman and an even better Robin. I really love the over-sized mask and the band-aid on Robin, adding an element of youthful inexperience which is generally overlooked. Again, this style does have a tinge of Pulphope in it, but not to the point that accusations should be flung.

With my urges to see men in tights and capes subsided, I was able to look into the Grampa’s more substantial work. As I discovered shortly thereafter, Rafael Grampa created 2008’s Mesmo Delivery, which tells the tale of an ex-boxer turned transporter and is tinged with a Twilight Zone otherworldliness. The one-shot has received crazy critical acclaim and is actually sold out. This puts me in a shitty situation, as I can either wait until Dark Horse reprints it next year or shell out some serious cash. I’ll probably suck it up and spend the money now, as I can’t stop looking at whatever previews/teasers I can find:

Deep down, I really hope that Rafael Grampa does whatever it is that he finds artistically fulfilling. But I’d be hard-pressed to deny the appeal of that Daredevil pin-up. In my ideal world, he’ll do what a lot of artists find themselves doing — both the artsy stuff and the commercial properties (which pay the bills). It is my belief that when genuinely talented creators put fresh spins on the dependable franchises, the readers finally get to see their favorite characters elevated (if only for a brief period) to higher strata.

Here’s to hoping Rafael Grampa sticks around to help us get to those upper echelons.