This is a 7-page comic that serves as a tribute to the artists who have influenced me since the day I first discovered them. I’ll post one page every Friday, maybe adding a short text to each—nothing too profound.
It pairs well with witch house music in the background. It’s a blend of tastes and references that seem unrelated but are, at their core, so diametrical that they juxtapose on a plane that cuts through them (wrestling/sorcery)—a convoluted yin-yang. Each contains traces of the other. Between these poles, an alchemy is attempted. Only here, the comic itself acts as the catalyst, amplifying and radiating. It’s the hyperbole of an explosion.
Technically speaking, it’s yet another eternal pursuit—but now fully framed by its context. Where are the boundaries of the neon ocean that’s already drowned us? In our own finitude, perhaps. Or maybe folklore—local or foreign, but always ancient—offers refuge from the machine. There, we see forces that resist all technology. And they will endure...
This is a 7-page comic that serves as a tribute to the artists who have influenced me since the day I first discovered them. I’ll post one page every Friday, maybe adding a short text to each—nothing too profound.
It pairs well with witch house music in the background. It’s a blend of tastes and references that seem unrelated but are, at their core, so diametrical that they juxtapose on a plane that cuts through them (wrestling/sorcery)—a convoluted yin-yang. Each contains traces of the other. Between these poles, an alchemy is attempted. Only here, the comic itself acts as the catalyst, amplifying and radiating. It’s the hyperbole of an explosion.
Technically speaking, it’s yet another eternal pursuit—but now fully framed by its context. Where are the boundaries of the neon ocean that’s already drowned us? In our own finitude, perhaps. Or maybe folklore—local or foreign, but always ancient—offers refuge from the machine. There, we see forces that resist all technology. And they will endure...
This is a 7-page comic that serves as a tribute to the artists who have influenced me since the day I first discovered them. I’ll post one page every Friday, maybe adding a short text to each—nothing too profound.
It pairs well with witch house music in the background. It’s a blend of tastes and references that seem unrelated but are, at their core, so diametrical that they juxtapose on a plane that cuts through them (wrestling/sorcery)—a convoluted yin-yang. Each contains traces of the other. Between these poles, an alchemy is attempted. Only here, the comic itself acts as the catalyst, amplifying and radiating. It’s the hyperbole of an explosion.
Technically speaking, it’s yet another eternal pursuit—but now fully framed by its context. Where are the boundaries of the neon ocean that’s already drowned us? In our own finitude, perhaps. Or maybe folklore—local or foreign, but always ancient—offers refuge from the machine. There, we see forces that resist all technology. And they will endure...