An Altercation in Space C1P20

Wait, what’s that I hear?

Fris is getting a break from his eternal streak of endless nonsense? A short reprieve from a life of horrifically bad luck? A tiny ray of light penetrating the sea of misery that is his life? Did I hear that right? Huh.

Well, good for him.

Good for him, indeed…

Website-Exclusive Author’s Note:

This page sucks.

Yeah, that’s right, we’re going right back to your regularly scheduled Maoist denunciation rallies. The good vibes of the last page simply couldn’t last, and you and I both knew that.

Well, what went wrong this time, then? What’s got you so upset, Andre? The psychologist is here, everything is OK, there’s a tissue box in the corner and a kilogram of Ritalin on the desk in case you need them.

Honestly, I think everything went wrong with this’n. It started with the perspective compositions, which weren’t all that well-thought-out to begin with, continued into the gestures and poses, and only stopped when the last stroke was made.

I mean, this page wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever drawn. I kinda have a track record with bad art, you know, but after the high of the last page, this just feels like a really, really bad crash. You know, the sort of crash where you wake up over at your friend’s house with a headache that could split planets, wondering what the fuck even happened last night. After all, you swore to your significant other that you weren’t going to drink and, anyway, you were supposed to be the driver, remember?

So, you get up from the couch, trying to get a sense of what exactly it was that had rocked your body and like half of your brain cells right into the fucking ground last night. Searching around, you find fuckall, not even your friend, who was, you know, kinda supposed to live here. Then you eventually look out the kitchen window to the drive yard, see your friend’s car crashed into the perimeter wall of the kindergarten next door, a trail of shattered glass and empty beer bottles that leads straight to your front door, the blue lights flashing in the distance, and you know it’s going to be another one of those fucking days. Again.

That’s what this comic page feels like. Just when you think you’re over the top, the lack of talent pulls you back down. That’s why artistic exercises are important, I guess. It’s so you don’t crash your car; or your hopes and dreams.

— AP






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