in art, there is a line when it comes to comics.

the line is very easy to go too far past or not go close enough to in fear.

you must live on this line ever so slightly to the left, at your peak, to truly feel accomplished, but even then, so close to the other side, you’re tempted, too tempted more often than not…but you must never or if you do you must return home, and debate on the next step, for there are new lines for every stylistic ponder, ever endeavour, lines create mazes create walls create boxes, holes and steps, the line is more than a line but in the gutters, between the blacks, at the present moment, it will always simply be a line.

frank miller, the infamous frank miller, has jumped all around this line, he stood on it with the dark knight, casually slipping to the side of great among a sea of mostly mediocre but layouts beyond the mind of man then in the sequel launched to far into a point where maybe in his beautiful black and white work the vision worked, in the world of colour and smaller print it did not, his vision wasted in a wastebasket, a book taped together after being hit by the shredder…

ronin…he blurred the line, it was suddenly a new line and he danced upon it and laughed at the rest of us as we dreamed of ever keeping up let alone surpassing and to this day he still chuckles at the young creators even attempting such an impact. the best time to laugh is en route to the bank.

in art you live confused mostly, should your art be filled with lines for shade or big black strangely shaped chunks? a bit of both? none and keep it in riverdale? should eyes be black dots or rectangles or completely white triangles? will colour make this look professional and dynamic or dull and flat? will black and white make this look amateur or professional from half a century ago? a world of square jaws and round shoulders vs. round chins and squared off joints. yes, a strange world indeed, but one i hope to survive and thrive in…ever dancing upon, towards, and even passed…the line.

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