Sunday, January 10, 2010

Low Soup Clouds

(From Leela Corman's Queen's Day.)

Don't expect a hands tag. Unmoved by hands. (Not that I had much to say about faces.) These roiling broth clouds remind me of low-hanging mountain clouds in BC.

Corman is curious because she devotes space to blank space: in her panels, there's a lot of wall to take in, so much couch. Her stories are one-on-one meetings threatened by expanding voids: meeting the Baba Yaga and her ethereal soup, meeting a grandparent and your memory of death.
Couch. Wall. Jonathan.

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