Well, it looks like the artist calendar is finally dead. I’m not entirely upset about it — I mean, yeah, I’m sort of bummed that the project didn’t come together this year as it would have normally, but I’m slightly glad of it. It’s a bit stressful and chaotic trying to chase after files and get things settled sometimes.
Anyway, this work was originally an overflow work for the calendar. It’s already been published live on my page for a few months now because I had an inkling of a feeling. I started the work in early summer and started chipping away at it between other projects, bit by bit, trying to figure out what exactly I wanted.
I was going with the memory theme with the outlines of objects and that sort of thing I’ve been doing lately. These are shaping up to a sort of series, to be honest, and there’s still a few I have yet to draw. They all feature Azra as the central character, and they’re all touching on memories and traumas of his in one form or another. You may have seen these two works covertly slide onto my gallery:
Which take on the same theme and those neon, abrasive memories. These are less clear cut than the glimmering yellow of Windswept’s bitter-sweet memories…
…or the glistening sharp gold of Falco’s sword in Ghost. Nor are they as angry and vicious as the blade in It’s Only or the arrows in Wounded. They are hard to discern.
But this one is clear. I wanted this to be more about some things that happen in the book I am working on. In the first book, Marked for Life, we meet Azra and Brooke, an we follow them into this chaotic adventure where neither of them are in any place, physically or emotionally, to enter into a relationship with one another but can’t deny their feelings for one another. Amidst this, Azra is competing with himself to recall who, exactly, he is — he’s spent so much time running from things and trying to disappear that he no longer remembers. He has glimpses of things he is not sure are his memories or if they’re just mirages. He wakes up from dreams swearing that the present is not that. He remembers faces and situations but he doesn’t know from where. He has to cast all of this self-questioning aside to attempt the task at hand — and battle with his drug addiction.
In the second book, Azra begins down that tightrope, that winding path. While he’s never quite entirely felt at home in the city, he knows there’s some allure to the forest, but he is not sure what. Is it calling to him? Is that his true home? Can diving into his memories help him deal with the future and the present or just reopen old wounds? Tentatively, he explores, and gradually, he learns who — and what — he really is.