I draw my comics for homicide detectives, so that is who I imagine reading my comics as I work on them.
You know the type. Watched his mom and sister get gunned down over his dad’s drug debts and swore he’d become a cop. Last time he saw his father was when he had to testify against him, but it looks like he’ll have to pay a visit to the state prison to see if he can shake some information about Big Joe Paglia out of him. He has the highest clearance rate in the precinct but he’s never gonna make captain with that chip on his shoulder and that devil on his back. His marriage went to shit ever since he started hitting the bottle. He wants to stop, but he can’t shake that image of his partner’s body getting torn into by the Antelope Ripper after he tied the both of him up in the governor’s mansion. His new partner seems eager, but he can’t trust her yet - she’s a little green, a “diversity hire”, if you know what I mean. She might be the only friend he’s got, though. He knows what the other detectives think of him. He’s no rat, but when they all skimmed a little off the Rordiguez heroin seizure and he passed on taking anything, they started looking at him funny. Doesn’t help that the chief has been riding him ever since he disobeyed a direct order to lay off the mayor’s son’s drug charge. Doesn’t help that he has his ex-wife calling him ten times a day for alimony. He just ended a twelve hour shift by talking a tweaker out of murdering a baby he was using as a hostage and he wants to relax. He goes to his local, orders a shot a cold one, slams a quarter into the jukebox to play his favourite - Charlie “Bird” Parker. He opens up the newest issue of Lose. It’s the only good, pure thing in his day - the only ray of light in his miserable fucking life.
Man sex better be real and not some elaborate joke everyone is playing on exclusively me, like i dont want to be about to insert into a lady and Ashton Kutcher bursts out of the closet and everyone laughs at me as they all take of their pants and detach their genitals as I find out I’m the only one on the planet with sexual organs
in addition: don’t tell us you’re underage if you’re reading our porn, because that totally fucks us over legally. we cannot be deliberately and knowingly providing obscene material to minors, and if you think about it laws like that are good and exist for good reasons. but still, please be responsible enough to keep us safe like we’re trying to keep you safe.
This goes hand-in-hand with “if you’re at barstuck and aren’t 21 please don’t” but it’s far more serious. This is not about how “mature” you feel or “age is a number.” This is about legality and trying to keep ourselves, our lives and our jobs safe, and letting us try to keep you safe.
I’m sure its been pointed out but if you are underage and posting nude photos of yourself online you can also be charged for distributing the images. It’s just a bad idea in every conceivable way.
Kerascoët’s covers for Beauté with scans of the original art for the 2nd and 3rd tomes and the cover design for the first.
I think Kerascoët’s use of green ink is very interesting as a way to define lines and spaces meant for color while maintaining information within the image that black ink would otherwise compromise. It’s a smart method with using green to define the sky against the cloud and especially with the amount of creatures drawn heavily with black, the green prevents her from losing the shapes and figures to black and also from committing the all too common aural line around figure that would completely destroy the eerie mood of the third cover or the delicate detail of the comb going through black hair in the second.
This book looks great. Please come to America. I don’t care if it’s translated or not.