As usual, I began documenting the technical process for an art piece I was creating. But the questions I DIDN'T ask myself at that time were the probing ones about "inspirational genesis" and all that jazz. When I finally did ask myself those questions, I was surprised to learn something new about myself:
This particular genre of art -superhero comics -and on this grand size of paper (30 x 24"), harks back to my childhood memories. Ones of my older brother - my earliest memories connected to art.
Stephen and I made little connection in our emotionally charged home environment. We usually kept to the safety of our separate rooms. I remember the sound of his Smashing Pumpkins album droning out the screaming and the door slams.
Moments when I would venture down the hall and into his room were like big adventures in my small, 4-year-old world. I would stand on my toes to catch a glimpse of the large-scale comic painting that lay beneath the headlamp on a massive drafting table. Wolverine almost popped off the page in all his yellow and blue glory.
Creating this Batman piece put me in touch with what my distraught teenage brother may have been thinking and feeling back at that drafting table. It made me remember how helpless I was to lend him comfort. And how far I was from creating anything so skillful.
But I also felt a measure of hope: maybe now I can finally be what I couldn't be back then: his hero.