Moebius: aka a Taylor fan (trust me, I don't believe it either.)

A few weeks ago, I read about the Barcelona comics salon and I really wish I could've attended. I've been to quite a few and they're always great fun, meeting with fans and other artists, some of whom were my heroes. But no artist has influenced my comic book work more than Moebius who was the guest of honor at this years comics salon. Reading about his appearance reminded me of when I finally met the creator of Arzach and what followed in the years after.

It was 1994 at the San Diego Comic Con and the first GIRL series was well done by then. I was at the Rip-Off Press booth doing drawings and signings and took a break to browse the room. This was one of the first years the con took place at the convention center that it's held at now, and, although much bigger today, it was still a good walk from end to end back then. After a while as I walked back towards the Rip-Off booth, I see the young couple who was manning the booth then waving to me frantically. They could barely contain themselves as I got there and told me that Moebius wanted to meet me. They were a very good looking couple and it hurts me to say how much I laughed at that statement from them. I sat down behind the table and picked up my sketch pad and pencils to finish some requests and they kept asking me "What are you doing?! Moebius wants to meet you!" I decide to pay attention and they explained that his assistant Randy Lofficier-a lovely woman-came by the booth and asked about me, whether I was there, then gave them the message to ask me to come to Moebius' table. About this time Kathy Todd, one of the publishers, appeared and confirmed this. Okay, now what do I do? Attempt to meet the artist who cemented in my mind that the shape of comic book panels don't necessarilly tell a great story as much as what is in the panels without vomiting on his shoes, or just ignore this amazing opportunity and fly back to New York without so much as a "How ya doin'?" I decided to risk vomiting and meet the man.

(A small note: The Moebius story that dictated how I would forever do comics was a five page story that appeared in Heavy Metal called "The Long Tomorrow". If you can find it, it's simply beautiful.)

So, I trekked over to the Moebius stand only to be confronted with one of the longest lines of fans I'd ever seen outside of a Star Wars film. What do I do? Obviously, I go to the end of the line like every other fan, figuring it'll be quite a while. About two minutes pass when Randy, Moebius' assistant, comes to the back of the line, reads my name tag and says "Mr. Taylor. No, no, come with me." She introduces herself and takes me to the front of the line where I see Moebius doing a drawing in someone's book with a pen. No pencilling to ink over-and it was perfect. I'm thinking, okay, I'll wait until he's finished. But Randy says "Jean! Jean!" (Moebius' real name Jean Girard) And she introduces me. A big smile appears on this man's face and he stands up to shake my hand. Now, anyone that's attended a comic con has probably noticed that artists rarely, if ever, stand up to greet people, especially when it's really busy. And, not only did he shake my hand, but he made a hand sandwich with my hand between both of his hands! I was trying to tell him how much his work has influenced and shaped my own comic book work, but he kept telling me how much he loved my work and my comics and that he had them all. At that time there was only MODEL BY DAY, THE GIRL, some pin-up books and a few self published books, but it was still a shock. By now I noticed people on line peering to see who I was and trying to read my name tag, but I was thinking "Hey, screw you, pal. this is the moment of my life." And the "piece de resistance": Moebius summed up his thoughts with the five finger kiss. You know, that french thing where a person likes something so much they join the tips of their fingers of one hand, kiss them, then open them up like a budding flower. I thought "Okay, that's it. This is someone in a Moebius mask." But it was the real deal.

I went back to the Rip-Off booth and they were all eager to know how it went, so I told them. I then gathered all the new stuff I had and brought them back to Moebius and I was given a copy of all the stuff at his table, including prints. This all happened on either a Friday or Saturday, and I don't remember whether I made any money at that show, but meeting this man more than made the trip worth while. The very next time I saw Moebius was in France at the International Comics Salon in Angouleme, an incredible salon, and he pretty much greeted me the same way. Since then, whenever we would meet we would exchange any new products and chat for a bit and it was always a treat for me. It's been a while since I've met with him and I hate that I missed the opportunity in Barcelona, a place that I know very well. But I'll try to make the next Angouleme show and see if he's there, if only to say hello. I would go on to try and describe what it's like for an artist to meet one of his heroes, but it would be pointless. I've told this story over the years to anyone who would listen, and sometimes I got the feeling that people thought i was bragging. But how could you not sound like that if it happened to you?

I thought for a long time whether or not I should tell this story, for fear that it would sound like I'm full of it. But a friend summed it up by saying to me, "No one else is gonna tell it for you".

So, there it is. Moebius is a Taylor fan. How do you like that?

My Run-ins with Dave Stevens

I've only met Dave Stevens a few times and I can't say that I knew him well, but what I knew of him was that he was a very decent guy. I've even had the pleasure of chatting with him and his good friend Mike Kaluta, who I knew a little better, at a table they shared at a New York con. Besides the great art he produced, the one thing that impressed me about him was how easy going and approachable he was to all of his fans. Last week i attended the Salon del Comics in Granada, Spain and spoke with some American mainstream artists and writers at the traditional opening night dinner for all the professionals and invited guests. It was fun-at least that first night. The following days when I approached these same professionals they were very stand-offish, as though i was some nutty fan trying to hang out with them when the truth was I only even heard of one of them. It´s always been fun sharing stories with other American and European artists in another country. But they made me remember why I've never really got along with most mainstream artists in the first place. That "I'm a real pro, not like those self publishing bums" attitude never sat well with me. I thought, and still do, that as tough as it is surviving in this business we could at least show some solidarity. Maybe that's why I never got that mainstream vibe from Mr. Stevens.

I first met Mr. Stevens in the early 1990's after I'd had "Model By Day" and "The GIRL" published and had by then become infatuated with THE ROCKETEER comics and, naturally, Mr. Stevens' great girl art. It's fascinating that this man single handedly revived the career of Batty Page which spawned countless books, artwork and even TV specials. And I must admit that I've only done one painting of her, a private commission done two years ago. At that first meeting in San Diego, I merely told Mr. Stevens how much I liked his work and he seemed slightly embarrased. When I shook his hand he read my name tag and said "Kevin Taylor...I've heard of you." I wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but when he told me that Mr. Kaluta showed him a couple of my books (I always gave Mr. Kaluta any new products whenever I met with him at a con) I knew he was being honest. By that time I had made it my personal policy to never go out of my way to meet artists who I admired because I didn't want to not like them, but that day I was glad I had met Mr. Stevens.

Years went by before our paths crossed again and I reintroduced myself to Mr. Stevens at another San Diego con and the first thing he says is "Hey, I remember you." And that's how it went over the years- until one San Diego con in the late nineties which was to be one of the last times I would see him in person.

I was sharing a table with Sandra Chang and Laura Molina who had dated Mr. Stevens some time before. Miss Molina showed me her latest work-a large painting of Dave Stevens nude. She went on to tell me the story of she and Mr. Stevens and of the series of paintings she´d made and would continue to make. I won't go into details of that story only to say that it doesn't flatter Mr. Stevens. But I will state that, in my adult life, I've learned that people rarely blame themselves for their own problems. This is particularly true of most women and relationship problems. You simply cannot avoid problems in any relationship. That's just how it goes. I believe the first thing a person needs to do when a problem arises is ask themself "Okay-what's my part in this mess?" And I have yet to meet the woman that can do that, except maybe with their female freinds. I even know women that actually sabotage their own relationships by projecting how long it will take for things to go bad. When you think about it, there´s always enough blame to go around.

After a few hours of hearing from Miss Molina, I decided to mention it to Mr. Stevens, just to find out his take on those paintings. Miss Molina didn't mind and, in fact, encouraged it. I waited until some people left his table-I didn't want to embarrass him-and he seemed in good spirits. That is, until I told him who I was sharing a table with and the painting I'd seen. His face actually got longer and he scratched his head, saying "We broke up about twelve years ago. It's really embarrassing. I wish she could move on." He had nothing bad to say about Miss Molina and I thought that showed real class. And I felt bad for bringing it up because I couldn't escape the fact that I probably ruined his day. I even apologized for it but he didn't blame me which was a relief, albeit only a little. Twelve years. I'm no psychiatrist, but wouldn't that kind of obsessiveness be unhealthy?

Those are my recollections of my run-ins with Mr. Stevens-as I remember them. There weren´t many and, as I said, I didn´t know him well, just well enough to share a few words every now and then. It was enough for me.

Since I started in comics, I've met with lots of American and European artists and it's been great sharing stories at dinners and in bars with them. It seems I've only really gotten along with other artists that have bypassed the mainstream market and made names for themselves independently. There seems to be that kinship of having run the gauntlet and coming out the other side in one piece. I guess that's why meeting mainstream folks thus far has been leaving a so-so taste in my mouth. I've been a fan of lots of artists, but over the years the number of those artists have severely dwindled. I guess that's why learning of Dave Stevens' death this week is rather depressing for me-we both ran similar gauntlets. Believe me, I don't in any way put myself in the same league as Mr.Stevens. But, judging from the few times we've spoken, he'd probably disagree. He was as classy as they get.



That's why I'm still his biggest fan. And I hope he can rest in peace.

Sticks or Stones

After graduating the High School of Art and Design, I didn't really want any more schooling and thought I'd take a chance and see what would come of persuing an art career. Seeing published work on the art boards around the school by artists who got gigs as professionals right after they graduated the school, like Joe Jusko, was encouraging. I knew I wasn't that good, but I was determined to try and break into that world.

My friend Lance Tooks was an intern at Marvel Comics from the 11th grade and worked there many years after graduation, editing scores of books. After months, almost a year after high school, at Lance's insistence, I went up to Marvel Comics to see about the whole interning thing. I was asked to bring a portfolio of some of my work, so I did. I was no child prodigy able to paint beyond my years, and I knew it. But I've always had a thing for drawing anatomy which I've always worked on to get better.

So, I went on up to Marvel Comics one afternoon, not really looking to impress anyone, but just hoping be around artists to learn the comics business. After meeting with Lance I was told the only person available to see me was an editor named Larry Hama. I had no idea who this was, but he was an editor who I was told I had to deal with. After a handshake, I sat across Mr. Hama's desk as he picked up my portfolio just as he answered his phone. While chatting on the phone, he flipped through my work rather bruskly, finished his conversation, closed my porfolio and, after sliding it back across the desk to me very blandly said "It sucks".

Like I wrote, I wasn't looking to impress anyone.

Strangely enough, that experience didn't mean much to me. Being a young, aspiring artist, it didn't have any negative affect on me. It could be because I had no idea who this guy was and he didn't make any impression on me. I just knew he had a job at Marvel Comics. I know many artists who told me they had similar experiences with editors and were so devestated that they couldn't draw for a while. After that incident, I had lunch with my friends, went back to my job as a messenger then went home and drew all night-like I usually did then.

A few weeks later, I went to meet with Lance again at Marvel for lunch and was hanging out in the lobby waiting while talking to the receptionist. I just happened to have my portfolio, but with only a few large drawings and a sketchbook. After a few minutes the door to the offices open and out comes Marie Severin. I thought, "Hey, that's Marie Severin!" Almost immediately she spots my portfolio and says to me "How ya doin'? You an artist?" I think I said something intelligible and she says "Mind if I have a look?" I again muttered something and before my head cleared, Ms. Severin was sitting next to me looking through my sketchbook, then the larger drawings that I had-and she did so with her complete attention. The best part was she kept commenting on how good my art anatomy was and asking where did I study. I knew she was being sincere-if those lines had come from an editor, it would have come off as sarcasm. I was talking with an artist. And I knew who SHE was.

Ready for the rest?

Before Ms. Severin was through looking at my work-and she sat with me for no less than a half hour-the door opens again and out strolls John Romita Sr. "Hey, that's Jazzy John Romita", I scream in my head. And Ms. Severin says, "Hey, Johnnie, come look at this guy's work." And there I was, on a sofa with Marie Severin and John Romita checking out my work, both giving me laurels for my figure drawing. Afterwards, they both shook my hand and recommended I put more work together and keep knocking on the comic book doors. I then had lunch with my friends and related the whole story. Now, THAT experience affected me.

Years after that, after going my own way and self publishing, I would look at the work I had shown Ms. Severin and Mr. Romita back then, and realized just how bad I was, and how gracious they were in taking the time to encourage another artist. And even though I've developed my own style over the years, it's very difficult to say anything negative to a young person who asks me to critique their work. I just think maybe they'll develop a style that I can learn from and they'll be succesful with it. Since leaving the hospital last month, I've thought a lot about what I've done with my art and there've been quite a few things, the most rewarding being I've gotten better. The picture above is from 1998 after I've finished installing my pieces for my first exhibition at the International Erotic Film Festival in Barcelona, Spain. I'll save that story for another time, but, man, it was wild.

I've been wanting to show my work to Ms. Severin and Mr. Romita now for the last few years and recount my story to them. I'm sure they've forgotten. But I know they'd still be just as gracious, regardless of whether they personally liked my work or not. It would still mean a lot to me now, just as it did then.

One thing is for certain: I will never tell any aspiring artist that his or her work 'sucks'. There's a name for people who do that: they're called "editors".

Sugar Unsweet

Wednesday November 28 started out a normal enough day.
But early in the afternoon until well after midnight I knew how it felt to be dying.

Shortness of breath all day which turned into barely breathing had me crawling around my hallway knocking on doors at 2 in the morning and finally waking up in the hospital emerency room strapped to a bed. I don't really remember much, except some of the hallway crawling because I blacked out soon after. But the reason for being strapped to a bed was because apparently I put up a tough fight with the ambulance medics and some of the emergency room staff. And perhaps having a catheter inserted had a lot to do with it.

Once I was brought back to consciousness and was semi normal, a doctor told me that a sudden surge in my blood sugar took my breath away and knocked me out putting me into sort of a diabetic coma which is why I was so violent. And I could've died that night. Yep, I got diabetes.

All this time I've been walking around with diabetes and never knew. I guess it pays to have regular check ups. So, after a week and a half in the hospital I was released on Friday, December 7 and I'm now a card carrying. insulin injecting part of the diabetic public.

I would like to write more, but I'm exhausted. My doctor friend says it's normal and keeps telling me that I simply don't realize how sick I was and still am. So, I'm gonna sign off now before she reads this and sees how much I haven't been resting.

Until next time.

They Used to Grow Them

Another post in less than one week? Must be important.
Not really. Just a couple of occurences that had me curious. Tits. Yep, they're the couple that's got me curious-or I should say, that's got other people curious.

Over the past bunch of years doing comic cons and salons, I've ran into quite a few girls who were convinced that the tits I paint are fake. Huh? I'll repeat-there are females out there who actually think I'm painting women with breast implants. During one San Diego con there were two instances. I had a painting of Girl displayed on my table-nipples covered, of course (don't wanna be banned)-one young couple walked by saw my painting and the girl points at it and says "They're fake." I started laughing and she embarassingly dragged her drooling boyfriend away. A few hours later, another young pair walked by, and this time the young dude stopped dead in his tracks and just ogled the painting for a few seconds before his girly angrily yanked his arm and pulled him away.

More recently, last month to be exact, me and my friend were in a pub hanging out with a girl from England that we met earlier this year. She's cool, but she loves her red wine, if you follow me. I'd never shown her my work before last month because she said early on she never liked comics. Okay-that's cool. Well, she was on her way back to England the following week and after a few bottles of the grape, she asked to see one of my books. I thought, fuck it, show her the hard stuff. I normally show prudes and girls from the U.K. and the U.S. my FANG books just to avoid...what happened next.I showed her "Girl's Kama Sutra" and from the first page it was "Those are fake." Okay, that's it. Number one, it's a goddamned drawing. Number two-why the hell would I draw or paint fake tits? Oh, did I mention she hates men? Always picks the wrong guy and keeps going back to them. I did my best to acknowledge that,okay, she was wasted and kept a reign on my temper. I was used to comments like this, but I guess this night was a little diferent. And I wasn't even drunk-but she was a looker. I just wanted to know why someone would think I draw fake tits. The answer I got that ended the conversation was "Because you're a man."

I truly believe that at some point in history, women grew large breasts. Not all women. But every now and then there are women who have exceptional, natural busoms, and I'm convinced that some of them walk the earth even today. I even remember seeing a few of them in person. But I guess I'm just imagining things. I guess I'll be seeing Elvis next and the Yeti. Now that breast implants are all the rage, I guess women just don't want to grow them anymore-except really fat women. I figured out they're the only type of women whose tits will be accepted as natural. I paint tits because let's face it, they sell books. People think I'm a big boob guy, but personally, I'll take what a girl has. I'm not sure if anyone has noticed, but my paintings don't stop below the tits. I focus on everything because it's my duty.

It's a shame that some women's insecurities have led them to put down other women who've "got more" than they do in an effort to make themselves feel better. "Mine are small, but at least they're real!" So much so that they begin to put down fantasy images. This hapened again last night in a pub. One of the spanish waiters saw a copy of FANG that was left there by the ridiculously gorgeous spanish waitress whom I gave it to who simply loved every page of it. The waiter says to me "I really enjoyed your book with all the colors and the women with all the surgery made tits. Very nice."

And I'm leaving that right there. I don't even have a response to statements like that from a guy. From women, I understand those sad comments. But when a guy says something like that, my audio shuts off and he is off my radar for good.

Maybe next time I'll write about the comments I've heard from the fellas over the years about the dicks I've drawn in my books. Then again, maybe not. I just don't have that kind of time. And you though THIS was a long post.

It's Their World

I'm finally realizing what an entirely different world the online community is and how it's inhabitants can make up lives and have characteristics that are completely opposite of their own. I'm not just talking about gender hoaxes just to string along some poor slobs who can't figure it out-like a few years ago with the Kysa Braswell hoax, who actually wrote me several times and sent me "photos" of herself, writing how much of a fan she was of my work. I mentioned to my friends and webmaster back then that something seemed strange about this "girl", and between the photos and e-mails sent to me and her online erotic stories, I picked up on it immediately. There's always something in a persons nature that will trap them, no matter how much they try to fake it.

Now I'm seeing other characteristics online, mainly in forums that people create and moderate. I go to a few girlie forums when I have time, and, as much as I try to only check for images, I always get caught up in the insaneness of the comments. some are funny, but the comments and replies are usually regarding someone's taste in women, which I could care less about. You like what you like, and I'll never fault a guy for what he finds attractive at any given moment. We've all been there. Then the moderator would chime in to referee-"Hey, cut out this dumb talk and get back to posting. Keep it up and I'll ban you" One site I check out has the moderator constantly berating guys for their comments, like an E-Daddy. One guy called him an E-Thug, which is a perfect way of describing these people. This same site even has a rule of not posting nipples.
Yes-a forum catering to pictures of women where nipples are forbidden. But racial slurs and utterly foul usernames and language is the norm. However,break the no nipple rule and the moderator is quick to point out, "Listen, dipshit, I see a part of a nipple on the third photo. This is your one and only warning. Next time you'll be banned!" I guess the idea is to create a world of your own so you can be in control of others that enter it. I guess it's a rush to be tough and in control of people-as long as no one knows who you really are.

I won't get into the whole "reposting" thing, where people actually get ridiculously pissed off if someone posts a photo that they stole-I mean, that they posted first, as though they took the photo themself. I'm always tempted to electronically bitch slap some of these people back to reality. "Hey, Mr. or Miss Poster, you all got the photos from the same place-you stole them off the internet! And a nipple never hurt no one, E-Daddy. Please don't ban me from your family site." But I know getting into it with these people will be a never ending mess. They have more time than I do for that stuff. And why not? It's a world they feel more comfortable in.

Me, I'm not afraid of girls. They're fun to be around. And since today is my birthday, I'm gonna be around a few of them tonight. Here in Spain, any reason is a good one for a fiesta. So, if you'll excuse me, I must prepare for a world where I'm more comfortable.

SIN TITULO

I knew I would be no good at writing regularly on a computer. And the added nuisance of my present internet connection makes going on the internet even more of an annoyance. For almost the past year I've been leeching off of a neighbor's wireless connection and this has a habit of going out, depending on the weather-or if the person with the wireless decides to shut it off, or leave town. That's what happened over the summer, and from the end of June until about the end of August, I was without internet service, and even now it goes on and off constantly. But, to be honest, this probably would have been the only update since the end of June anyway.

The e-mails have started up again asking when GIRL:The Second Coming, Volume 4 will be out and all I can say is that I wish I had a definitive answer. Doing a graphic novel is no joke and doing one by yourself would make a clown depressed. (No, forget the clown analogy-depression is why they're clowns.) The bottom line is it's a lot of work, and there's only so much I can do in one day, which turns into one week, and so on, until it's time to pay the bills, and rent. The only way to keep up with it all is through commissions and side projects. (A special thanks to the fans that have been requesting commissions. It's kept me going and even inspired.)Another reason is that I don't use computer programs for any of my illustrative work, but I understand why so many good artists do-it gives them time to enjoy life away from the drawing board. I wish I knew what that was like, but my computer skills are nil.

Which brings me to the image I've added, "Bio Girls". One of those little side projects that I may finish. It's a planned portfolio I'd like to offer for sale with about six pieces including this one for the cover. I was planning it for this summer, but maybe this fall I'll have it done. I'll make another post when it's done and how to get it, depending on my wireless connection. And whether or not I strangle this goddamned computer.