New comic...
Finally finished the comic I've been working on - this is the longest one I've ever drawn and took ages despite my lazy paneling and recycled poses - why am I so slow? I've also drawn Yusuf for this one for the first ime. He is hard to draw...I think I've made him too chubby so I apologize in advance.
Anyway here it is, a comic version of a scene of weatherfront's brilliant and hilarious fic The Greedyhearts in which Eames is a cocky art thief and Arthur's the private investigator who's supposed to catch him. Needless to say that it doesn't go so well ^^
Various artworks/artifacts that make an appearance in this are Bacon's Triptych in Memory of George Dyer, Paul Klee's Departure of Ships and part of the English crown jewels. And that last pic of Eames making kissy faces at the camera is of course based on this lovely self portrait of the always delectable if slightly ridiculous Mr. Hardy ^^
And here's the actual scene form the fic the comic is based on:
Sometime near the end of the first month, Arthur's Monday envelope contains the following missive.
ANOTHER WHOLE WEEK UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN, it says. HERE'S SOMETHING TO HOLD YOU OVER. WWW.EAMESSTEALSTHINGS.COM
Arthur isn't going to take the bait, he really isn't, but then when he comes back from a weak cup of coffee Yusuf has commandeered his chair, typing on his keyboard, using his browser to most definitely take that bait with gusto.
"He launched an official website," says Arthur. "That asshole launched-- I can't believe this."
"There's a 'statement of purpose' section," says Yusuf, and clicks.
STATEMENT OF PERPOSE, says the website in large orange letters. MY NAME IS EAMES. YOUVE PROBABLY HEARD OF ME. IM POSSIBLY THE GREATEST THEIF WORKING TODAY, AND BETTER THEN MOST OF THE ONES NOT WORKING TODAY. I STEAL ART, I STEAL JEWELS, I STEAL ANYTHING YOULL PAY ME FOR.
"Even his website offends my eyes," says Arthur.
I CHARGE BY THE HOUR, it continues. THIS INCLUDES TIME SPENT IN PLANNING. EQUIPTMENT AND COFFEE WILL BE CONSIDERED BUISNESS EXPENDITURS. MY CONTACT INFORMATION IS NOT FOUND ON THIS WEB SITE BECAUSE STEALING IS ILEGAL, BUT YOU PROBABLY KNOW HOW TO GET IN TOUCH WITH ME IF YOU REALLY NEED TO. ENJOY THE REST OF MY WEB SITE!
"What's on the rest of his website?" asks Arthur.
"There's a 'photographs' section," says Yusuf, and clicks.
The first picture that loads is of the Bacon triptych. Arthur grinds his teeth together. His first defeat still tastes sour. It's even worse this time because Eames' face is obscuring the middle panel, where he stands pointing at himself like he fucking knows he's got it, whatever it happens to be.
"I won't scroll down if you don't want me to," says Yusuf.
"Let's just get through it," says Arthur.
"All right," says Yusuf, "but do you mind not digging your fingers into my arm quite so much?"
Every single item is there. Eames is posing with every single one of them. His eyes are lazy with self-satisfaction, his grin like a cat with a face full of milk. Yusuf is trying to pry Arthur's fingers from his arm but Arthur can't seem to relax his muscles, and he's winding tighter and tigher, his peripheral vision flashing red with pounding blood.
After the catalogue of stolen items, the pictures quickly turn inexplicable. There is one where Eames is kneeling in a field of grass with the sun in his hair, petting a golden retriever by his side.
"What are these pictures even for," says Arthur.
There is also one where Eames is slouching against the hood of a battered old Jeep, tattoos like arcane secrets trailing down the curves of his biceps.
"I don't understand," says Arthur. "Is it an ad campaign? Is it a photoshoot for some kind of fugitive fashion magazine?"
Then comes the series where the pictures are grainy like they've been snapped on a phone, and Eames is stretching a hand high to angle the shot, and he's shirtless and his pants are slung extremely low on his hips and there's an incline of hard lines and hair disappearing into the front of his waistband.
"Close it," yells Arthur. "Close the browser."
"Oh my god," yells Yusuf. "Calm down, Arthur."
(Excerpt from 'The Greedyhearts' by weatherfront)
Anyway here it is, a comic version of a scene of weatherfront's brilliant and hilarious fic The Greedyhearts in which Eames is a cocky art thief and Arthur's the private investigator who's supposed to catch him. Needless to say that it doesn't go so well ^^
Various artworks/artifacts that make an appearance in this are Bacon's Triptych in Memory of George Dyer, Paul Klee's Departure of Ships and part of the English crown jewels. And that last pic of Eames making kissy faces at the camera is of course based on this lovely self portrait of the always delectable if slightly ridiculous Mr. Hardy ^^
And here's the actual scene form the fic the comic is based on:
Sometime near the end of the first month, Arthur's Monday envelope contains the following missive.
ANOTHER WHOLE WEEK UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN, it says. HERE'S SOMETHING TO HOLD YOU OVER. WWW.EAMESSTEALSTHINGS.COM
Arthur isn't going to take the bait, he really isn't, but then when he comes back from a weak cup of coffee Yusuf has commandeered his chair, typing on his keyboard, using his browser to most definitely take that bait with gusto.
"He launched an official website," says Arthur. "That asshole launched-- I can't believe this."
"There's a 'statement of purpose' section," says Yusuf, and clicks.
STATEMENT OF PERPOSE, says the website in large orange letters. MY NAME IS EAMES. YOUVE PROBABLY HEARD OF ME. IM POSSIBLY THE GREATEST THEIF WORKING TODAY, AND BETTER THEN MOST OF THE ONES NOT WORKING TODAY. I STEAL ART, I STEAL JEWELS, I STEAL ANYTHING YOULL PAY ME FOR.
"Even his website offends my eyes," says Arthur.
I CHARGE BY THE HOUR, it continues. THIS INCLUDES TIME SPENT IN PLANNING. EQUIPTMENT AND COFFEE WILL BE CONSIDERED BUISNESS EXPENDITURS. MY CONTACT INFORMATION IS NOT FOUND ON THIS WEB SITE BECAUSE STEALING IS ILEGAL, BUT YOU PROBABLY KNOW HOW TO GET IN TOUCH WITH ME IF YOU REALLY NEED TO. ENJOY THE REST OF MY WEB SITE!
"What's on the rest of his website?" asks Arthur.
"There's a 'photographs' section," says Yusuf, and clicks.
The first picture that loads is of the Bacon triptych. Arthur grinds his teeth together. His first defeat still tastes sour. It's even worse this time because Eames' face is obscuring the middle panel, where he stands pointing at himself like he fucking knows he's got it, whatever it happens to be.
"I won't scroll down if you don't want me to," says Yusuf.
"Let's just get through it," says Arthur.
"All right," says Yusuf, "but do you mind not digging your fingers into my arm quite so much?"
Every single item is there. Eames is posing with every single one of them. His eyes are lazy with self-satisfaction, his grin like a cat with a face full of milk. Yusuf is trying to pry Arthur's fingers from his arm but Arthur can't seem to relax his muscles, and he's winding tighter and tigher, his peripheral vision flashing red with pounding blood.
After the catalogue of stolen items, the pictures quickly turn inexplicable. There is one where Eames is kneeling in a field of grass with the sun in his hair, petting a golden retriever by his side.
"What are these pictures even for," says Arthur.
There is also one where Eames is slouching against the hood of a battered old Jeep, tattoos like arcane secrets trailing down the curves of his biceps.
"I don't understand," says Arthur. "Is it an ad campaign? Is it a photoshoot for some kind of fugitive fashion magazine?"
Then comes the series where the pictures are grainy like they've been snapped on a phone, and Eames is stretching a hand high to angle the shot, and he's shirtless and his pants are slung extremely low on his hips and there's an incline of hard lines and hair disappearing into the front of his waistband.
"Close it," yells Arthur. "Close the browser."
"Oh my god," yells Yusuf. "Calm down, Arthur."
(Excerpt from 'The Greedyhearts' by weatherfront)