Asylum Doors - 19

By Chris Prunckle

chris prunckle 

asylum doors sould fly 

 

What happens when a psychic who can’t control her powers gets institutionalized?

Bryce Dekker is a young woman that has suddenly been given extraordinary power, a psychic link to her surroundings. In her desire to help others, she becomes entangled in a murder case where her knowledge of specifics has made her the #1 suspect.

Now mandated to undergo observation at Werthem Glen Sanitarium, Bryce is at the mercy of her fellow patients. Surrounded by madness and unable to control her power, she is having a hard time separating her thoughts from the insanity around her.

Bryce has found only one way to keep track of reality, and that’s by keeping a record of the visions and voices in her head. She has become the vessel for those around her, telling the stories of their illness. She is the biographer of their insanity. Their stories have become hers, and Bryce’s only hope is that by embracing the madness, she finds her sanity.

Asylum Doors is a serial comic we'll run every Wednesday.  See the previous installment here.  See next week's installment here.

 

Chris Prunckle is a graphic designer, illustrator and comic book artist banished to the suburbs of Chicago. Though an advertising industry minion by day, he slaves his nights away creating a mad little world.  He’s previously worked on the comics Fisted, Bonesetter, and The Scarab.  Follow him at @midjipress.

 
Curbside at AWP Boston

By Victor David Giron

If you are going to the Alcoholics, Writers, and Pornographers conference, or AWP conference in Boston this week, we will be there!  Table ZF.  On Saturday the bookfair is open to the public.  We will have crazy deals on our recent books The Way We SleepMAY WE SHED THESE HUMAN BODIES, Chicago Stories, Piano Rats, and limited previews of some of our upcoming books like Everything Flows by novelist / musican / screenwriter James Greer.

Amber Sparks, author of MAY WE SHED, will be at our table on Saturday at the bookfair from 11am to 12pm, available to sign copies of her book, chit-chat, and what-not.

Also, you can find us at the following parties we're throwing:

Thursday March 7 at 8pm, at Cantab Lounge, Words & Music featuring James Greer and a host of excellent authors.  Limited Advanced Review Copies of Everything Flows will be available.  James will have a guitar and will tear it up.

Saturday March 9 at 4:30pm at Brookline Booksmith, one of our nation's finest indie bookstores, Amber Sparks will be part of an excellent intimate reading featuring a special appearance by author Steve Almond, and more...  See here for more!

 

 

See you there if you'll be there...

 
Just Plain Cynful

By Cyn Vargas

The other day I was asked by a fellow writer, “Do you find revising fun?”  I said yeah though I wondered what she meant by fun.

The first draft is fun—just go with it and see what happens on the page. It doesn’t matter if the character is bald in the first paragraph and then on page three he has curls protruding from his scalp like twisted phone cords. Or the story is told by one character and then turns into another character’s story by the end. The first draft is raw and it allows freedom to play because it’s just that—a first draft and it can and will always change in the revisions.

Revisions are where all the work happens. The many hours, all the questions: What if this happens? What if that happens? What if I move this over here? Or over there? And on occasion: What if this whole thing just sucks?

In that way, no revisions aren’t fun because they are work and I’ve never associated work with fun not even when I worked at the Warner Bros store surrounded by “fun” (the Batman-ear hat they made me wear, not so fun though store guests got several laughs).

But it’s during the second or third or even fourth revision that the story is finally being told in the way it wants and needs to be told. It’s being chiseled, discovered, uncovered, and in that sense it is fun.

It’s actually exhilarating. There is something about putting in all that work even with all the doubt and time that when the story is “done” (Da Vinci said, “Art is never finished, only abandoned.”) there’s this adrenaline rush followed by a Fuck Yeah! maybe a fist pump, and a snack that may or may not include beer.

However, my zone of accomplishment is short-lived because there’s always the next story, the next revision to get to.

 
Asylum Doors - 18

By Chris Prunckle

chris prunckle 

asylum doors sould fly 

 

What happens when a psychic who can’t control her powers gets institutionalized?

Bryce Dekker is a young woman that has suddenly been given extraordinary power, a psychic link to her surroundings. In her desire to help others, she becomes entangled in a murder case where her knowledge of specifics has made her the #1 suspect.

Now mandated to undergo observation at Werthem Glen Sanitarium, Bryce is at the mercy of her fellow patients. Surrounded by madness and unable to control her power, she is having a hard time separating her thoughts from the insanity around her.

Bryce has found only one way to keep track of reality, and that’s by keeping a record of the visions and voices in her head. She has become the vessel for those around her, telling the stories of their illness. She is the biographer of their insanity. Their stories have become hers, and Bryce’s only hope is that by embracing the madness, she finds her sanity.

Asylum Doors is a serial comic we'll run every Wednesday.  See the previous installment here.  See next week's installment here.

 

Chris Prunckle is a graphic designer, illustrator and comic book artist banished to the suburbs of Chicago. Though an advertising industry minion by day, he slaves his nights away creating a mad little world.  He’s previously worked on the comics Fisted, Bonesetter, and The Scarab.  Follow him at @midjipress.

 
We Did An Interview

By Jacob Singer

Zak Smith is known for his collection of illustrations inspired by Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow (one illustration for every page), his series 100 Girls/100 Octopuses, and his memoir We Did Porn, about his time working in alt-porn. His art tends to be hysterically convoluted and intricate; he paints beautiful women (sometimes nudes, other times sexually explicit); his colors are bold and figures exist on a sliding scale between high-brow illustration and synthetic realism.

I met up with Zak Smith at a restaurant in downtown Chicago in the winter of 2012. He was having lunch with a small group of MFA students from School of Art Institute of Chicago, who had brought him to Chicago as a guest lecturer. Needless to say, it wasn’t difficult to find them among the typical Loop lunch crowd. They welcomed me to their table, bought me lunch, and let me eavesdrop on their conversations regarding Smith’s time as a graduate student at Yale, his work, and personal life. Smith seemed at home with them and responded to their questions with his unique blend of intelligence, self-effacing humor, and honesty. At a certain point, I jumped in and we had the following conversation. 

JS: How would you describe your subject matter and style?

ZS: I never like that question because you have the art right there. Presumably this interview will be published next to some pictures. I don’t like the process of describing things, which can be boring, but if I had to describe it, which I do once in a while, I would say that they’re dense, labor intensive, and intricate. They’re busy and they seem itchy—it’s like they’re trying to get off the page. It’s like there is this little vibrating thing in all my pictures. It’s not on purpose. It just happens. It’s got this this caffeinated look.

JS: It seems that you’re actively participating in two traditional painting genres: female nudes and still lifes. But you mash them together in an interesting way. There will be the female nude as the center of the canvas but she is surrounded by all this stuff.

ZS: I think part of it is that in other art and media, I hardly see anything that looks real. It doesn’t look like life. The people look off. Their apartments look empty.

 


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