big bang art: Flying Weight
OMG LIVEJOURNAL STOP FUCKING AROUND.
Ahem.
This year I was lucky, lucky to draw fleshflutter's Flying Weight (which incidentally kicks quite a lot of ass) for Big Bang. When I offered up several options for the look and feel of the art and she said she couldn't choose between two of them, we decided that I'd give her a bit of each, problem solved.
So. Three digital images, inspiration courtesy of Chip Kidd (who is, like Rufus in Kill Bill 2, The Man) and graphic novel illustrations à la mid-nineties Vertigo. Three hand-drawn sketches in red conté crayon, inspiration courtesy of, uh, people who draw in red conté crayon, I guess. And a few icons thrown in for lagniappe.
Thanks to fleshflutter for being a stellar writer as well as a dear and a delight to work with; to leestone and D, for offering up ye olde unconditional support and love; and to wendy and thehighwaywoman, who've managed yet another Big Bang with style and grace.
N.B. #1: Click on the images to view in full size.
N.B. #2: The third digital image is spoilery, so proceed with caution.
Title page:
There's a bench at the edge of the parking lot, right by Dean's room,
and Sam sits down on it. He sits there for a long time.
Sam is fascinated with wondering whether Dean can taste his soul
in the blood, because the last time Dean drank from him,
the blood must have been thin and flavorless.
Sam wakes.
Dean smiles, that silky, sulky smile that promises no mercy.
Sam is used to tolerating Dean's awkward, motherly attentions.
Icons:
Ahem.
This year I was lucky, lucky to draw fleshflutter's Flying Weight (which incidentally kicks quite a lot of ass) for Big Bang. When I offered up several options for the look and feel of the art and she said she couldn't choose between two of them, we decided that I'd give her a bit of each, problem solved.
So. Three digital images, inspiration courtesy of Chip Kidd (who is, like Rufus in Kill Bill 2, The Man) and graphic novel illustrations à la mid-nineties Vertigo. Three hand-drawn sketches in red conté crayon, inspiration courtesy of, uh, people who draw in red conté crayon, I guess. And a few icons thrown in for lagniappe.
Thanks to fleshflutter for being a stellar writer as well as a dear and a delight to work with; to leestone and D, for offering up ye olde unconditional support and love; and to wendy and thehighwaywoman, who've managed yet another Big Bang with style and grace.
N.B. #1: Click on the images to view in full size.
N.B. #2: The third digital image is spoilery, so proceed with caution.
Title page:
There's a bench at the edge of the parking lot, right by Dean's room,
and Sam sits down on it. He sits there for a long time.
Sam is fascinated with wondering whether Dean can taste his soul
in the blood, because the last time Dean drank from him,
the blood must have been thin and flavorless.
Sam wakes.
Dean smiles, that silky, sulky smile that promises no mercy.
Sam is used to tolerating Dean's awkward, motherly attentions.
Icons: