Home News May 2005 5th
|Audri Celeste's Toronto Con Experience|
|Thanks Audri Celeste for sharing the following story and picture:|
||Over the weekend, I was working for the Paradise Comics Toronto Comicon and ended up with the job of catering to the guests of the show. It was while I was taking a break behind his table that David and I struck up one of many conversations, and he did this wonderful sketch for me.
It's a portrait of myself (because I couldn't think of anything else to request of him), and it also happens to be the first work in my sketchbook. It's the simplest piece in my book, but it's also the piece that I like the best of them all.
So to David: Thanks for another awesome show and for the fun conversations!
|Appearance at Comics 2 Cars on Saturday|
|To help support Free Comic Book Day, David Mack will make an in-store appearance from 1-5 pm on Saturday, May 7 at Comics 2 Cars. Also appearing at the store, which is located at 166 Mt. Zion Road in Florence, Kentucky, are Archie Comics writer Craig Boldman, Star Wars artist Joe Corroney, Star Wars model Nutopia and Mary Oyaya, who portrayed Jedi Master Luminara in the Star Wars films Attack of the Clones as well as Revenge of the Sith. For more information about the event, please visit Comics2Cars.com or call 859-647-7568.|
|Reviews for Kabuki: The Alchemy #4|
|ComiXFan.com and WackyHijinx.com examined Kabuki: The Alchemy #4. Also, Georgia State University Media Scholar Greg Smith noted:|
||David Mack's Kabuki is probably the most visually complicated modern comic, a dense multiple medium mix of Asian influences. Mack scrawls in the margins, plays games with origami, and blends futuristic violence with meditations on identity. His art has gotten progressively more mannered so that it's almost work to read some of his later stuff. Skin Deep is not the first of Mack's story, but it's the best - the moment when the style becomes advanced and lyrical without being too overburdened. Luckily, it seems that he is returning to a slightly less crowded style in Kabuki: The Alchemy.|
|David Mack Shares a Dream|
|From David Mack:|
||A good story for you not involving a hatchet or dog bite.
From my own personal dream journal.
I share with you some of my innermost experiences.
I welcome all SERIOUS and geniune interpretations.
March 23, Wed. morning, Los Angeles
I was sitting at a picnic table doing some writing (or drawing?).
Writing with pencil and paper.
Two large Cicada skins on the table. Cracked in the back as the largest Cicadas Iíve ever seen emerge from the shells.
One shell/skin is so close to me it is touching the paper Iím writing on. And it gets a little wet, little drops of moisture on the edge of it as the moist Cicada brushes against it as it unfolds its wings and stretches them out.
It crawls onto my paper waiting for its wings to dry before it can take flight.
It sits there on the center of my paper motionless. Itís pale moist body taking the rich black and amber color as dries and feels the air on its new skin for the first time.
Black thorax, dark amber legs, red eyes. Some bits of green on the back. Wings large, gold and translucent.
It just sits there.
The other skin is a few feet away on the other side of the picnic table. Its Cicada crawls onto the reddish maroon wooden table and does the same before it flies off.
At regular intervals, more newly mature Cicadas continue to crawl out of the same skin. One at a time, they stretch their wings and get accustomed to the new world and their new shape before they take flight up into the air.
Both skins a launch pad for on each side of the table. The sky filled with dotted lines of flying Cicadas stemming from my picnic table.
The first Cicada still on my paper that Iím writing on even after dozens of others have followed him out of his own skin and taken flight.
I give him a little nudge. He crawls a bit up the paper in response, his segmented legs appearing nimble, but moving heavy and plodding.
The two skins continue to give way through the cracks in their backs to the steady stream of newly winged Cicadas. They take their own regular time in stretching their wings and crawling about, but they all take flight fairly soon after emerging.
Maybe the one on my paper is still a bit sleepy. He hit the snooze button on his hibernation clock. I give him another little nudge with my pencil and he hovers into the air. He flies. Slow at first, but steady and ever gaining altitude.
Iím in a field of grass beside the lagoon that I used to play at as a child. There is a bridge with chain linked fence over a stream that runs into the Ohio river.
I watch as the Cicadas, larger than Iíve ever seen as a child or adult, fly beyond the bridge. Still flowing upwards from the two points on the table like a slow motion firework. Or a lawn sprinkler.
There was another part of the dream that took place in the same area. Same grass by the lagoon bridge, but no picnic table this time. I donít remember if this part came before or after in chronology to the Cicada experience.
My younger brother and I were watching something in the sky.
We were propelling a video camera into the sky to investigate it. The same camera we had when we were younger.
I seem to be missing a chunk in the sequence of events.
Then we saw a red-tipped badminton birdy circling in the sky above us.
"There is the birdy," I said. I have it on tape. As I pointed my video camera to it and followed itís descent to the ground.
I stood over it in the grass, my brother said it still had something inside it from before.
I said I didnít see anything in it. He said it was in the read tip. I took the tip off and a little piece of paper was inside.
And then it seemed to take the shape of a dark rubber sphere. Like a little bouncy ball.
I think we took it and walked away.
A truck drove by and someone yelled at us. We looked to see the passenger side person with a very long whitish grey beard smiling at us. We recognized it as Ethan, someone we knew as kids 20 years ago when we attended a Christian school. He was a few years younger than us then. Now he has this white beard.
In another segment of this dream, or another dream linked to this one, I continue to see people in this childhood area with long white and grey beards. Amish style with no mustache.
Iím talking to Mandy near the house I lived in as a child when a wide and low white pickup truck pulls into the driveway.
A bearded fellow gets out. I recognize him as Sam Thornberry, a boy a couple years older than me that was my neighbor and friend as a young child.