Shaun Davies (left) & Larry Marder (right), Creator of BEANWORLD

A few weeks ago, Scott McCloud re-tweeted a Tweet by Larry Marder.  Being a good sport, and a overall twittard -as it has been explained time and time before- i answered the call.  Larry was asking for some help for his nephew, Shaun, who had as an assignment, to interview Animation Professionals.  I shot them an email, and after a little bit of introductions here, and introductions there here are the questions Shaun asked me, along with my answers.  I took the liberty of calling it “When the Bean came a’Knocking” in honor of Larry’s Beanworld series.

Hit it Shaun!

Dear Mr. Levy,

Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity to interview you for my Senior Project. Below are the questions I appreciate you generously taking the time to answer.

1.When did you know that you wanted to become an animator? Were you inspired from a particular movie, game, TV show, or just the love of making drawings come alive?
-The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are to blame.  Before they came along, i wanted to be either an astronaut, or a zoologist. Funny thing is, i wanted to be an astronaut because it was the closest thing to piloting a Giant Robot. So, “them toitles” came along and through them i discovered comics, and started collecting Archie comic’s TMNT Adventures, Iron Man, Uncanny X-Men, Batman, Detective Comics, and Amazing Spider-Man. Not an easy feat, to be honest with you, as we didn’t have a comic shop at all (until late 1998 more or less!) here in Panama, and comics were sold in a general store of sorts, and always late.  It was in one of these comics that i found out about the Joe Kubert School of Cartoon and Graphic arts, and traded, if you will, my dream of being an astronaut, and decided i wanted to do comics and cartoons for a living. Cue in my mother’s disapproving stare… and the rest is history, as they say. I started doing my own minicomics, copying the art of the comics i read on a monthly basis. Which leads me to your next question: ↓ Read the rest of this entry…

(c) MOPX

“Un olor a drogas y alcohol; un intenso sabor a metal; dejando escapar el alma, le hacemos saber a los dioses del rock que estamos vivos.”  Esto es lo que escribía rápidamente sobre un pedazo de papel.  Al terminar, miró a su alrededor; sonrió y luego de doblar el papel dieztramente, lo guardo en su bolsillo izquierdo.  Volvió a alzar su mirada hacia el escenario.  Dejó escapar otro aullido, que dejaria a los coyotes y lobos bastante impresionados -por su capacidad pulmonar, entre otras cosas- por la euforia y lo visceral del mismo.  Alzando su mano derecha, extiende su anular y su menique, tal como Ronnie James Dio le ensenó ya a cinco generaciones. Los acordes empiezan a fluir por el cuarto, los cuerpos empiezan a menearse, bambolearse, saltar y “head-bangear” mientras ella sigue gritando y aullando… su voz perdida en el clamor de otras diez mil almas. De manera milagrosa logra percatarse de que la estoy llamando, y me atiende. Me saluda; siento su euforia.  Me llama la atención, pues sé que no es muy fanática de quienes, en estos momentos, evocan la magnificiencia del Imperio Ruso en el escenario.  La saludo, y ella me pregunta donde estoy. Con dificultad le digo que aun me encuentro a mas de un kilometro de distancia… parado en la fila que se tuerce y envuelve por todo el lugar, para que un sudoroso policia me revise, me quite mi botella de agua y me deje pasar… solo para formar otra fila y entrar justo en el momento en que la banda que queria ver -casualmente los que he mencionado anteriormente, de manera tan casual- estan recogiendo su equipo.  Quedamos en que hablaremos mas tarde. Ambos cerramos.

Una hora despues, me encuentro en medio de un tumulto de individuos que han esperado esta presentacion, al igual que yo, por muchos anos.  Algunos, han esperado deleitarse con el repertorio en vivo de la banda a presentarse casi mas de 3/4 de su vida.  Para otros, es un sueno hecho realidad. Y asi, mientras mi musa grita y aulla en algun lugar de este auditorio, yo alzo mi mano derecha y ofrezco el saludo oficial, en reverencia a los dioses del metal… tal como he aprendido, siguiendo el ejemplo de Dio.  Todos lo hacemos.  Y todos lanzamos un aullido o un grito que se mezcla, y llega a ser un clamor de magnitudes inmesurables.

La muerte asechante es la que nos da la bienvenida. Saltamos.  Me pregunto si la estructura del local aguantara tal jaloneo.  El piso tiembla.  Menos mal que es bastante elastico.  Me pregunto si ellos, alla arriba pueden sentirlo como lo siento yo debajo de mis pies.  Me pregunto si ella lo siente… y ese pensamiento se evapora a medida que las notas siguen escapando los masivos amplificadores que hacen que, incluso ahora, me chillen los oidos.

Ya sin camisa, pues el calor es increible, continuo coreando las canciones que me acompanaron en esas largas noches, sentado en mi escritorio copiando el estilo de los grandes… aprendiendo arduamente y puliendo mi talento, mientras mis companeros estaban en fiestas, quinceanos y siendo populares.  Ja! Quien rie ahora, infelices? es el pensamiento que viene a la vanguardia de mi percepcion mientras la bestia que esta parada al lado mio atesta un certero golpe con su manaza en mi cara.  Inmediatamente, contra ataco con un codazo a su costado y un golpe a su hombro.  Sigo moviendome y me pierdo en el vaivén del Pozo… una experiencia viseral, primal, y liberante. Se que mis companeros toman fotos.  Otros me acompanan en este ritual de estamina, emocion, sudor, dolor, destreza y hermandad.  Todos gritamos.

Horas despues… sentado en el trafico de salida, mi musa llama.  Le atiendo y hablamos como lo hemos hecho por los utlimos dos o tres meses.  “Un bano no te caeria mal”, le sugiero.  Ella acepta mi sugerencia y me dice que deberia hacer lo mismo.  Estoy de acuerdo completamente.  No es comodo cargar rastros del genoma humano por ahi. Le deso que pase una buena noche, ella hace lo mismo y nos despedimos.  Mis amigos me miran. Uno me dice, a modo de jodedera, que soy un mamon. El otro, sugiere una parada tecnica en un restaurante de la localidad: hace hambre.  Al unisono, los cuatro tripulantes accedemos en tomar la parada antes de regresar a casa y asearnos.  Es tarde ya. Manana hay que trabajar.

Lo que nadie puede negar, es que fuimos participes de uno de los mejores shows existentes en el planeta.  Y fuimos participes de ello, en el patio de nuestra casa.  Y si tomasemos un censo, y corroboraramos que mas de la mayoria hoy tiene un cuello tieso y adolorido… que muchos tengamos mas de dos o tres moretones que no estaban ahi ayer, todos… TODOS tenemos una gran sonrisa dibujada en nuestras caras.

Long Live The Metal!

… and Henry Rollins has been kind enough to lend me his words to do so.  I failed at finding them words myself.  So i went into hyperspace and clipped and pierced together this you are about to read.  I gathered this from a myriad of sources. Enjoy.

“I want to meet a woman that will make me stop and listen to what she has to say. I want a woman who will make my jaw drop in awe. A woman that has little time for me. One who does not throw herself at me. One who respects herself who has a sense of herself. Where is she?”

“Somewhere someone is thinking of you. Someone is calling you an angel. This person is using celestial colors to paint your image. Someone is making you into a vision so beautiful that it can only live in the mind. Someone is thinking of the way your breath escapes your lips when you are touched. How your eyes close and your jaw tightens with concentration as you give pleasure a home. These thoughts are saving a life somewhere right now. In some airless apartment on a dark, urine stained, whore lined street, someone is calling out to you silently and you are answering without even being there. So crystalline. So pure. Such life saving power when you smile. You will never know how you have cauterized my wounds. So sad that we will never touch. How it hurts me to know that I will never be able to give you everything I have.”

“I touch her hair. Her shoulders clench together and she stares at the ground. She looks like a stone bird. I am an iceberg. Everyday I float farther and farther out to sea. But that can’t be. An iceberg feels no pain. An iceberg doesn’t feel cold. I feel cold. I feel distant. There is no one. There is nothing. That’s where I am. She won’t look me in the eye anymore since I asked if I could kiss her. Even wanting turns her cold.”

“Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong, and it makes you feel so small because it’s so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn’t come back. You’re left so alone that you can’t explain it.”

“Why do you think the old stories tell of men who set out on great journeys to impress the gods? Because trying to impress people just isn’t worth the time and effort.”

“When was the last time you wanted to say it all to the right person? To have it all come out right, to surprise yourself at how together you could be. When was the last time you ever met someone who made you want to give it all to them? I mean give yourself to them. Where you couldn’t express yourself enough – like you wanted to cut off one of your arms to be understood. That’s it – you would cut your head off to have someone understand you. You know how pointless that one is. You know how many times you’ve smashed yourself to bits on the rocks.”

“My feelings for you shame me into silence. The truth of this and your name will never be revealed. It is you who has made me realize the failure of my life. The thought of you fills me with longing and at the same time, a burning humiliation that produces scar tissue and dead brain cells. Your existence mocks me and I am unable to confront this. You have no idea of any of this. None of this is your fault. It is completely with me. It is you who makes me see what I really am. I am weak and out of touch with myself.”

“It is no surprise to me that hardly anyone tells the truth about how they feel. The smart ones keep themselves to themselves for good reason. Why would you want to tell anyone anything that’s dear to you? Even when you like them and want nothing more than to be closer than close to them? It’s so painful to be next to someone you feel strongly about and know you can’t say the things you want to.”

“I am ready for whatever is coming. I expect nothing but to be let down or turned away. I am alone. Goddamn. The shit hurts sometimes, but I realize what I am, what I have become. The alien man waved his arms up and down and noticed that he couldn’t wave in the right language so he stopped.”

“Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue. Realize the strength, move on.”

“You can never change the scenery that surrounds you. You can run from the fists that pound you, but you cannot escape your feelings. I’ve crawled every sewer from here to there and I’ve never done it. And I burn silently.”

Can you taste my mood on this Pic?

Crap on a stick! It has been a month and some days since i posted a new comic.  I have been otherwise engaged in some activities that have kept me away from my desk… but not away from the drawing board.

Oh, i have been drawing… constantly.  I got about a month a a half worth of material ready, that is just waiting to be updated.  The problem is, i am not feeling the current storyline anymore… so i guess a change is in order.

But how to do so? I asked some of my peers, and i have received some really good answers and great feedback.  I will keep that in mind as i retake my posting schedule.

Also, part of what i have been up to, is trying to get my art out there… getting some of that elusive and hard to grasp Recognition.  The same Recognition we all crave for, and i want to share a little bit with you today.

I will do so in Two parts, the first being this post you are currently reading… and then the other one.

Last Tuesday, March 3rd, saw the opening of the Gallery Nights at La Musa del Chai café, here in Panama.  I am participating with 3 images.  I am selling two of those also… so if you are interested, let me know.

La Musa del Chai is a great place.  A Puerto Rican café right in the middle of one of our busiest streets.  Safely secluded and hidden from marauding eyes, it caters to a nice eclectic mix of patrons.  Not your usual crowd, and i would love if it would stay like that, while at the same time making enough business to not go the way of the dodo as so many other places like that here in Panama.

My doodles are being exposed there until April 3, more or less. Yes; eposed. Ah! The beauties of LITERAL TRANSLATIONS, no? They, coupled with a gutter-esque mind, make life oh so much bearable.

Please, feel free to drop by La Musa… check out my doodles, and the other cool art they got there. Here, i leave you with some pics of the opening night, courtesy of Donnie.  Just go ahead and CLICK HERE!

So… last night, while i tossed and turned in my bed, there was a 8.3 earthquake hitting Chile. The death toll is not as hardcore as the one in Haiti… I am sorry for Chile, as all this catastrophes really suck bawls -but i can’t, for the life of me, see the PANIC spread out in waves and not sit back and crack a chuckle here and there.

Now, i am not laughing at the tragedy of loosing lives in Chile per se.  I am just cracking up at the reactions of people.

Here let me elaborate a tiny bit.

Same as with Haiti, there is not much you can do when a Earthquake hits.  Fuck, the only one i have seen stop a quake was Kyle Rayner about 10 years back, nearing the Zero Hour cross over event.  Geek friends, correct me if i am wrong, but i don’t think even Supes has stopped a quake before. Anyhow, i digress.  Once the Earth stops shaking, all you can do is stand up, brush off the dust and keep on living.  You got the short end of the deal here, but hey… that is life for y’all.  The lucky ones are not the ones who survive, but the ones who die… i mean, we ALL die sooner or later, and being swallowed by Mother Earth is, hands down, quite an EPIC way to die.

“Hey… have you seen Pablo lately?”
“No man… i think… i think… *GASP!*”
“No…”
“Yes! HE WAS SWALLOWED BY THE EARTH!”
<Cue in dramatic soundtrack, as they both cry.>

Anyhow… let me get back on track once again.

I got to work this morning and EVERYONE and their fucking aunts are running around as if a kid had peed on their anthill.  I sit down on my desk and ask around, and i am informed of the quake. “Meh”, i say, “Earth is seeking balance once again… heh.” After being met with the most hardcore stares i’ve received all week i sit back, and i listen to the stories people start telling.  Of how this was the same as Haiti, because the Haitians got what they deserved because of their voodoo, and Chileans did because all them Nazis down there… Now, it is my turn to stare back at them, but i don’t say anything cause this is funny as hell.

A little while later, as the initial commotion died down, i started seeing the reactions on people in Facebook.  If work was an anthill, FB was short of a Zombie apocalypse.  I think media has lost some of it’s grip when it comes to spreading out news in (dis)favor of our new and digital word of mouth.  For all the technology we have created, mastered and amassed, we are right back in the middle ages, when it comes to true sources of information.  Today, more than ever, finding out what really happened is as difficult as trying to find the Sasquatch… wouldn’t you agree? It reminds me of 9-11, really. I was at college when the planes hit, and i raced from the cafeteria -where we were all watching the news live- to the PC lab to see what CNN had to say.  Their site was down, and all the info i got, i got from this obscure and little know site that no longer exists called MORINOKO.

I sit on my desk and see people asking other people if they are ok.  Wait, what? Why would you ask me if i am ok… if the quake was in THE OTHER END OF THE FUCKING CONTINENT! I mean, i SUCK at geography, but at least i know that Chile is way down there, Panama is halfway up -a gajillion miles away- and then Canada is right at the top.  So the fact that people asking if Panamanians were OK was a)heartwarming and b) fucking hilarious.

And then, the Tsunami warning came into effect. Here we go again with the anthill!
For those of you that don’t know, Panama is a 6 hour long, 2 hour wide country.  You can take a dip in the Pacific Ocean, and a few hours later take another dip in the Caribbean Sea / Atlantic Ocean.

Every timethere is a quake in the pacific side, a OCEAN WIDE Tsunami alert is issued, in our case from Hawaii, all the way down to Cabo de Hornos. It is standard procedure.

Now, based on all this info lets analyze the reactions of the people around me.  I agree with Leon, when he tweeted that “If I buy ten dollars in cans, a big wave hits me, the cans would be lost, so why buy them?” I remember a few years back, there was a quake in Hawai.  We got tsunami warning, and i mentioned to my mom.  She panicked. “We have to get to higher ground!’ she said. “Come, let’s go!”
I just looked at her and didn’t move a muscle.

“Mom?”
“What!?”
“…”
“We have to get to higher ground!”
“Mom… what higher ground?”
“…”
“Seriously mom… what higher ground? The “safest” place we could get to is over 6 hours away. Fuck, if it rains, and the tide is high? Half the city gets flooded!  Do you really think, that if we go to any of the somewhat “high”places nearby it would make a difference?”
“well… err…”
“…?”
“But we have to get to higher ground!”
“Mom… if i wade into the Pacific, and fart… a person in Colon gets his living room flooded.  Plus, a Tsunami would be like a quarter of a mile high. What constitutes higher ground for you? For fuck’s sake! We live right next to the beach! The whole city is right next to the beach. The whole country is a glorified beach! Jajaja… we stand no chance against a tsunami. I just wanted to let you know about it, and tell you i love you, y’know… just in case.”
“Oh… well… yeah. I love you too.”

And with such… i leave you with an afterthought: “Balance. That is what this is all about.  We -humans in general- have anally raped Gaia for the last… 100 years give or take..  Now, our bill is due. Deal with it.”  All i hope is we dont get flooded.  It would suck, i got tickets to see MASTODON and METALLICA in a week.