(Preliminary note: I am aware that this blog has been slumbering for nearly two months. I know that it was necessary, therefore, a more substantial entry: something deeper, reflective, transcendent. At some point of principle December started with her, but will unpublished, and it would be inadmissible ucronia. And as for this morning Saturday concoct something of this nature ... the balls. I do not go away. So ...)
is true that in recent times have seen fluttering reviews a significant proportion of my devotional aesthetic of eighteen, the world of comics. And, specifically, two: Fog on the Tolbiac Bridge and Yellow Brand. Who are my age (or so) and know what is the line Clara remember one of the most ambitious publishing projects, achieved (for a mere thirty issues) and failed (thereafter) at the beginning of the eighties: the journal CAIRO and Norma Editorial.
As you know, even half-good part of my readers, my back room 'pop' (no longer a part of my intellectual architrave) has much surf early eighties. Having had 17 years in 1983 is a very practical thing for a convenient construct New Wave: I have seen live The Pistons, Los Secretos, Nacha Pop, Los Stylish, Aviator Dro, all of which made me later , see La Granja or The favorites and many others at the right time. I've heard all their songs, along with my group in a radius of the outbreak of the frequency modulation (ie the younger they can not understand at all, of course). Vienna has been one of the disco slow Friday afternoon. He organized a grand concert of several days, with many local bands and alienate, those with some public funding, a lot of work group and no crosslinked case. Anyway, I have been avid reader of comics. But beware: not my thing: at the beginning of the eighties there were thousands of people like me about all this. I'm not in that sense, too original.
To me, that always surprised me, by sinsustancia - loyalties unalterable, permanent, and somewhat schizophrenic about that, "precisely the thing of Jurgen (people are Betis and Sevilla, or Madrid or Barcelona or Bilbao Real or forever) do not surprise me at all in things of more depth: the Beatles or Rolling , mods and rockers, Fender or Gibson, meat or fish . Bloody Mary or Dry Martini. It must be because in this sense, the thing is not Manichean: I say yes to everything ... but rather opt for one side than the other of each of these dichotomies. Of course, depending on the day. Or not. You see, as always, thousand shades of gray.
Y (I) it is with the comic. There was no-thing-and European and Yankee thing . There were clear line, and had comix Marvel. Cairo had or Viper.
And, look Vdes., Hans was always Cairo. not yet written the history of the project frustrated. I guess it was fucking do 'neotebeo' claims of neo-Renaissance and post. The only certainty is that the magazine was sensational as he stood firm in their aesthetic and philosophical assumptions (and yes, gentlemen, yes I am talking about a comic book that had that) and went to gargle in the abandoned and viborizó .
So I was surprised so much, so neoochentero at this time of my life (note for thought: same for the life of all. Think 1981, think of severe crisis. Vdes Den . thank God it has far fewer terrorist killings, of course) to publish the novel on which it based the great Late to draw the comic of the same name that was released from the first number CAIRO. Polar material with very fine anarchist leave the Parisian noir. I had not read but the other day, after devouring, I took my newly rebuild that library (note mental talk about it soon in Vladivostok) copies of the magazine to enjoy graphic description. An investment: the evocation of scenes caused by reading had occurred in black and white. Just like the comic, I keep remembering more than twenty years later.
As the sensational adventure of Blake and Mortimer the Yellow Brand , I've heard that Alex The Church will make movie
I worry a little, for the De The Church has a bit more I see that lineaclaresco viboríano. But give him a chance.
To which of course can not be given any chance is the schmo of Frank Miller. Last night, to be consistent with the spirit of Christmas (or my interpretation of it), I sought inspiration in the exploits of Leonidas against Xerxes watching 300 . Yes, I know the movie has already a lot of months, but what are you going to do.
Anyway, go away, and that much evil has Enya (the schmo thing after the twelve-tone music) and Matrix. Is it necessary to do slow motion, and immediately accelerated camera, when a spear through the neck of a guy? Need I cooing background-coñazo sound of polyphonic voices whimpering?.
Well, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2009, if I get to write something before the end of the year.
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