Confessions of a Comic Art Virgin

I know what I like when I see it. Problem is, I'm not always certain who I like.

Take Batman/Deathblow for instance. Lee Bermejo's got credits where-ever I look; wikipedia, my library's listings, general websites. But then I cross reference with another library system and up pops Timothy Bradstreet.

Who the hell is Timothy Bradstreet?

So I look. Cause I want to know who it is, that makes me want to suck cock, whenever I see the detailed backgrounds of Deathblow. As a lesbian, this is most important. Because really, get that dangly thing out of my face. Still, I love the artwork. Gotham breathed for me in a way that it doesn't often do. Gotham breathed for me the way The Lord of the Rings is all about Middle Earth; the way Peter Jackson was quite right to use New Zealand and managed to make those sweeping vistas absolutely breathtaking.

There was my Gotham, her lines, her scars, the twinkle in her eye. But who the hell is Timothy Bradstreet?

His website tells me nothing directly. I see samples of his work, and the themes all seem like he could be the reason I want to lick the page, strip naked and howl at the moon over Gotham in 'Deathblow: After the Fire'. But there's nothing definite.

There's a mention of Hellrazer, however. And I remember that I had a similar reaction to London while reading a Hellrazer book. But I can't remember too clearly what book, or even when I read the damn thing in order to narrow stuff down.

Then I find mention of 'Shoot'. The issue of Hellblazer that was scrapped because of the Columbine Tragedy. I used to have it downloaded onto my computer. I'll know if I still have it when I switch some HD's around and jiggle a few things in a few days when I'm feeling better and can fully toy with and tweak my 'to be new system'.

But I liked 'Shoot'. I liked the artwork. And the story for that matter. High school is hell. High school is a drill camp of the insane, filled with roaming gangs who fling words around like knives and where the slightest drop of blood, real or emotional calls in all manner of voracious sharks.

The scenes of the high school hallway captured that to me. The bleakness that adults never seem to see.

But that's not quite enough for me to figure out if he's the reason I liked the book so much.

So I'm back to looking at Lee Bermejo again. And I stumble across this page. Splash art, they call it. And the shit's for sale.

So there are pages with Lee's name on it, showing Gotham in stark clean lines. And then there's Tim's page showing a style I find familiar. And I'm not even going to get into how much I appreciate the colourist right now.

But I have to say, being a fangirl is a lot of hard work. Because I'm still not sure how DeathBlow breaks up at the end of the day.

Though maybe it's a good thing. Maybe I was just hoping it was only one man's contribution. Cause I know for a fact, that there's no way I'm kissing three cocks. So I can just continue to admire from afar.