As a kid, I always had a bit of a knack for drawing. I say "knack" because "talent" seems
like too big a word for it. I remember in first and second grade, when drawing was part
of our daily assignments, I was one of those kids who started developing their own style
when it came to sketching people. There were always a few kids who orbited the
different groups, and I was always one of them. I wasn’t the best, and that’s probably
why I didn’t push back then but I had a little cred among my peers.
I grew up in an era that was golden for pop culture. I was fully immersed in the
Christopher Reeve Superman films, reruns of 60s Batman and 70s Wonder Woman,
and, of course, (back when they were an actual thing) Saturday morning
cartoons—Superfriends and Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends were among my
absolute favorites. Superheroes were always my thing, and my love for them grew even
more when a classmate introduced me to my first comic book, a Radio Shack comic
(Radio Shake, look it up, junior) featuring Superman and Wonder Woman. Up until that
point, I'd never seen these characters in print.
Oh, it was on…!
Though I wasn’t the best at drawing, I stuck with it here and there into high school. My
favorite times were when school projects allowed me to incorporate my drawings—a
Lord of the Flies project where I got to dramatically depict the slaughter of a pic,
tastefully done and clearly implied off-panel, still elicits fond memories. Though I was
still a fan of comics and admired the art, I never really saw a future in it for me.
Then, life threw a curveball. I was working as a karate instructor (one of a myriad of jobs
I would come to have) when I broke my middle finger on my left hand (did I mention I’m
left-handed?). At the time, I was wrapping up my undergrad as an English Major, and
computers had become the norm, so I didn’t need the finest motor skills as I would be
typing everything, so no great loss. Even after the finger healed, it didn’t feel quite right,
and I quietly retired from drawing, afraid I might not be able to do it again.
Fast forward several years—let’s say about ten, because I love numbers that end in
fives and zeros—and I found myself substitute teaching a class that was unusually well-
behaved and busy. With little else to do, I grabbed my old sketchbook and a copy of
How to Draw The Marvel Way which I still kept, untouched in my backpack forever, and
began sketching. To my surprise, my finger didn’t bother me at all. It felt almost like
normal again. It was then that I realized how much I missed drawing.
Life has a funny way of putting you exactly where you need to be. My journey took me
from Toledo to Columbus to Baltimore, and back to Toledo before landing me in
Chicago, ready for a fresh start. At the time, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I had
taught for a while (having gone to grad school at Ohio University—O-H!), and I knew I
didn’t want to do that again at least. But as fate would have it, I stumbled across a
podcast called Word Balloon about comic creators, and I discovered the International
School of Comics or Scuola Internazionale di Comics if you want to be fancy, a new art
school that originated in Italy had opened its first U.S. campus in Chicago. Funny
enough, my choice had been between New York and Chicago—if I’d gone to New York,
I might’ve followed in the footsteps of a friend who had once attended The Joe Kubert
School. I ended up in Chicago, and it was like fate was giving me a redo.
It was three of the happiest years of my life.
Fear had kept me away from doing what I loved for so long! Ten years wasted because I
was scared that I might not be able to. When I see how far I have come since the ten
years started attending The International School of Comics and I think of how much
further along I would be now. But hey, you don’t know until you know. I have learned my
lesson and have been drawing just about every day since.
Fear had kept me from doing what I loved for so long—ten years of hesitation because I
was afraid I might not be able to do it. Now, looking at how far I've come, I often think
about how much further I could’ve been with those ten lost years but you don't know
until you know. I’ve learned my lesson and have been drawing just about every day
since.
Image Shot at Buvette
As a kid, I always had a bit of a knack for drawing. I say "knack" because "talent" seems
like too big a word for it. I remember in first and second grade, when drawing was part
of our daily assignments, I was one of those kids who started developing their own style
when it came to sketching people. There were always a few kids who orbited the
different groups, and I was always one of them. I wasn’t the best, and that’s probably
why I didn’t push back then but I had a little cred among my peers.
I grew up in an era that was golden for pop culture. I was fully immersed in the
Christopher Reeve Superman films, reruns of 60s Batman and 70s Wonder Woman,
and, of course, (back when they were an actual thing) Saturday morning
cartoons—Superfriends and Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends were among my
absolute favorites. Superheroes were always my thing, and my love for them grew even
more when a classmate introduced me to my first comic book, a Radio Shack comic
(Radio Shake, look it up, junior) featuring Superman and Wonder Woman. Up until that
point, I'd never seen these characters in print.
Oh, it was on…!
Though I wasn’t the best at drawing, I stuck with it here and there into high school. My
favorite times were when school projects allowed me to incorporate my drawings—a
Lord of the Flies project where I got to dramatically depict the slaughter of a pic,
tastefully done and clearly implied off-panel, still elicits fond memories. Though I was
still a fan of comics and admired the art, I never really saw a future in it for me.
Then, life threw a curveball. I was working as a karate instructor (one of a myriad of jobs
I would come to have) when I broke my middle finger on my left hand (did I mention I’m
left-handed?). At the time, I was wrapping up my undergrad as an English Major, and
computers had become the norm, so I didn’t need the finest motor skills as I would be
typing everything, so no great loss. Even after the finger healed, it didn’t feel quite right,
and I quietly retired from drawing, afraid I might not be able to do it again.
Fast forward several years—let’s say about ten, because I love numbers that end in
fives and zeros—and I found myself substitute teaching a class that was unusually well-
behaved and busy. With little else to do, I grabbed my old sketchbook and a copy of
How to Draw The Marvel Way which I still kept, untouched in my backpack forever, and
began sketching. To my surprise, my finger didn’t bother me at all. It felt almost like
normal again. It was then that I realized how much I missed drawing.
Life has a funny way of putting you exactly where you need to be. My journey took me
from Toledo to Columbus to Baltimore, and back to Toledo before landing me in
Chicago, ready for a fresh start. At the time, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I had
taught for a while (having gone to grad school at Ohio University—O-H!), and I knew I
didn’t want to do that again at least. But as fate would have it, I stumbled across a
podcast called Word Balloon about comic creators, and I discovered the International
School of Comics or Scuola Internazionale di Comics if you want to be fancy, a new art
school that originated in Italy had opened its first U.S. campus in Chicago. Funny
enough, my choice had been between New York and Chicago—if I’d gone to New York,
I might’ve followed in the footsteps of a friend who had once attended The Joe Kubert
School. I ended up in Chicago, and it was like fate was giving me a redo.
It was three of the happiest years of my life.
Fear had kept me away from doing what I loved for so long! Ten years wasted because I
was scared that I might not be able to. When I see how far I have come since the ten
years started attending The International School of Comics and I think of how much
further along I would be now. But hey, you don’t know until you know. I have learned my
lesson and have been drawing just about every day since.
Fear had kept me from doing what I loved for so long—ten years of hesitation because I
was afraid I might not be able to do it. Now, looking at how far I've come, I often think
about how much further I could’ve been with those ten lost years but you don't know
until you know. I’ve learned my lesson and have been drawing just about every day
since.
Image Shot at Buvette
As a kid, I always had a bit of a knack for drawing. I say "knack" because "talent" seems
like too big a word for it. I remember in first and second grade, when drawing was part
of our daily assignments, I was one of those kids who started developing their own style
when it came to sketching people. There were always a few kids who orbited the
different groups, and I was always one of them. I wasn’t the best, and that’s probably
why I didn’t push back then but I had a little cred among my peers.
I grew up in an era that was golden for pop culture. I was fully immersed in the
Christopher Reeve Superman films, reruns of 60s Batman and 70s Wonder Woman,
and, of course, (back when they were an actual thing) Saturday morning
cartoons—Superfriends and Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends were among my
absolute favorites. Superheroes were always my thing, and my love for them grew even
more when a classmate introduced me to my first comic book, a Radio Shack comic
(Radio Shake, look it up, junior) featuring Superman and Wonder Woman. Up until that
point, I'd never seen these characters in print.
Oh, it was on…!
Though I wasn’t the best at drawing, I stuck with it here and there into high school. My
favorite times were when school projects allowed me to incorporate my drawings—a
Lord of the Flies project where I got to dramatically depict the slaughter of a pic,
tastefully done and clearly implied off-panel, still elicits fond memories. Though I was
still a fan of comics and admired the art, I never really saw a future in it for me.
Then, life threw a curveball. I was working as a karate instructor (one of a myriad of jobs
I would come to have) when I broke my middle finger on my left hand (did I mention I’m
left-handed?). At the time, I was wrapping up my undergrad as an English Major, and
computers had become the norm, so I didn’t need the finest motor skills as I would be
typing everything, so no great loss. Even after the finger healed, it didn’t feel quite right,
and I quietly retired from drawing, afraid I might not be able to do it again.
Fast forward several years—let’s say about ten, because I love numbers that end in
fives and zeros—and I found myself substitute teaching a class that was unusually well-
behaved and busy. With little else to do, I grabbed my old sketchbook and a copy of
How to Draw The Marvel Way which I still kept, untouched in my backpack forever, and
began sketching. To my surprise, my finger didn’t bother me at all. It felt almost like
normal again. It was then that I realized how much I missed drawing.
Life has a funny way of putting you exactly where you need to be. My journey took me
from Toledo to Columbus to Baltimore, and back to Toledo before landing me in
Chicago, ready for a fresh start. At the time, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I had
taught for a while (having gone to grad school at Ohio University—O-H!), and I knew I
didn’t want to do that again at least. But as fate would have it, I stumbled across a
podcast called Word Balloon about comic creators, and I discovered the International
School of Comics or Scuola Internazionale di Comics if you want to be fancy, a new art
school that originated in Italy had opened its first U.S. campus in Chicago. Funny
enough, my choice had been between New York and Chicago—if I’d gone to New York,
I might’ve followed in the footsteps of a friend who had once attended The Joe Kubert
School. I ended up in Chicago, and it was like fate was giving me a redo.
It was three of the happiest years of my life.
Fear had kept me away from doing what I loved for so long! Ten years wasted because I
was scared that I might not be able to. When I see how far I have come since the ten
years started attending The International School of Comics and I think of how much
further along I would be now. But hey, you don’t know until you know. I have learned my
lesson and have been drawing just about every day since.
Fear had kept me from doing what I loved for so long—ten years of hesitation because I
was afraid I might not be able to do it. Now, looking at how far I've come, I often think
about how much further I could’ve been with those ten lost years but you don't know
until you know. I’ve learned my lesson and have been drawing just about every day
since.
Image Shot at Buvette