The death of Moebius is the first time I've ever been moved by the passing of someone who I've never met.
When I was 14, I had no idea that the magazine that I got grounded for would move my art into such a dramatically different direction. Heavy Metal (and Robert Crumb) was the first time I ever thought of comics as anything but guys in tights, and shaped the way I approached everything. It was the visual equivalent of an acid trip. Stuff looks weird, and when it's through your mind has been expanded.
It took until I was 30 to get into art school, and an uncle shipped me a giant box of his old Heavy Metal magazines. That was when I saw Moebius with the eyes of someone with some foundation at his back. Moebius wasn't just comics with naked ladies and spaceships (can't front on that), it was art. From that point, I've kept those magazines on my nightstand. I look at them at least once a week. It keeps me going, and inspires almost every drawing I've ever made.
Thank you so much sir.
My post this week is a layout that got out of hand in my sketchbook. I drew the woman on the rocket planning to watercolor her on a piece of bristol later. As the week went on, I kept adding things to my sketchbook page until I was left with 6 characters sad as their friend blasts off to space. I thought that was more appropriate than something finished.
