It's Friday, and so I conclude my posting of one of my all time favorite comics, Flash #0.
In preparing to post this, I've re-read the issue again several times this week, and it still never fails to spark something inside me.
The last two pages give me goosebumps everytime.
The end.
Maybe I'm a dreamer, but if you didn't enjoy this comic, you are empty inside.
I know some of you that show up here could care less about reading this, or about me being upset that Mike Wieringo is no longer with us, but I felt like I had to do something to honor/remember this man who's been such an inspiration to me since I was 12 or 13 years old.
And honestly, I couldn't care less about what you think. This is important to me.
I think those of you who know me know I'd never begrudge anyone else their grief over losing someone important to them, whether it be someone they were close to or someone they were inspired by.
I actually checked his site Monday morning (as I did every MWF) and saw the picture from Friday was still up and thought to myself, "Oh, he must be running behind today. I'll check back in a little bit."
Then I went to Newsarama and saw the headline, "MIKE WIERINGO PASSES AWAY".
You may think I'm being dramatic, but this is as honest as I can possibly be.
I read his name and then couldn't even comprehend the words that followed it.
I sincerely couldn't make that sentence make sense.
It still doesn't.
I can't believe I'm never going to see all the ideas and stories he was working on or the comics he was planning with Warren Ellis and Mark Waid.
I can't believe I'm never going to get to meet him in person and tell him how much I loved his work.
I think that's all I've got for now.
I wish I was more eloquent in trying to explain my feelings.
I wish I could do more to honor his memory.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Flash #0 Concluded.
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1 comment:
Thanks for posting this, Chris. Let me tell you a story:
When Pulpatoon: Pilgrimage had just been published, I went to my very first comics con. It wasn't a real con, but one of those dealer shows they have at local Holiday Inns. There were a couple other comics creators around, but I didn't know who they were. Although I'd just drawn a graphic novel, I really hadn't had much to do with the comics scene, and especially mainstream comics, in about ten or fifteen years.
Anyway, I end up sitting next to this guy, whom I vaguely understood to be a graduate of VCU, my own alma mater and at-the-time employer. He told me that he'd read my book, and liked it. This is always an excellent way to start a conversation, and we chatted for quite a while. The guy mentioned that he'd like to do some creator-owned work someday, maybe some all-ages adventure stuff, and we talked about the freedom of working on one's own comics. I'm not sure, but I'd bet I offered some naively patronizing words of encouragement.
At the end of the show, as we're packing up, I finally pull my head out of my own ass enough to ask the guy what he's working on.
"I draw Fantastic Four."
To which I brilliantly responded, "Oh!"
My embarrassment only deepened after I went to my LCS and saw how goddamned good his FF work was.
Man, I really wanted to meet him a second time, and try my damnedest to avoid acting like a douche bag.
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