A study of a page composition from Guido Crepax's 1971 book JUSTINE.
Ever since I first saw Crepax, I was attracted/repelled to his style, his subject matter, and page inventions. I puzzled over his work in Heavy Metal magazine, then forgot it, only to return to it years later. I now consider him one of my favorites-- especially his late 60s/early 70s work, when the brushwork was more prevalent and his scratchy croquil lines hadn't overwhelmed the images.
Gradually, as I've struggled more and more to get good at this, and step-by-step moved further into the field, I must admit don't look at or enjoy many comics-- I horde up my favorites and focus on them, my picture family. It is almost as if there is only so much room in your heart for the things you love. Naturally curious, I am open to new material, but that's still the way it is.
As a kid I was visually omnivorous, I read everything and anything I could get my hands on. If it had words and pictures I wanted to see it-- especially anything involving comics or illustrated books-- anything and everything, ranging from Herge's TinTin to John Byrne's run on X Men to Dr. Seuss to Kurtzman's Little Annie Fanny. It's impossible to say if this is normal behavior for most young comics readers, since for me, unlike the other kids I knew who eventually outgrew the passtime, an avid interest became an overriding obsession, and eventually a daily practice.
There could be a million different reasons why a million different people do the same thing.
