| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| mlLandj3 |
Posted - 11/01/2010 : 21:52:12
voleo bih čuti vaše utiske. sve do ovoga strip je za mene bio čista zezancija. ovo je prvi put da sam osetio inspiraciju da pročitanu priču adaptiram u ovaj medij.
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| 17 L A T E S T R E P L I E S (Newest First) |
| mlLandj3 |
Posted - 15/01/2010 : 19:00:18
quote:
Originally posted by all_ba
Ima tu štofa, bolji ti je rad nego npr. kad je Jules počeo da crta na Neznancu. To bi trebalo nešto da ti znači.
U svakom slučaju pohvala za rad i trud. Ako hočeš ozbiljnije da se pozabaviš stripom (ovo važi za sve one početnike, koje sam vidio na našem saitu), moraš da savladaš osnovne stvari iz anatomije, da vježbaš, vježbaš..., da dobiješ sigurnost poteza, naravno da savladaš tehniku crtanja i tuširanja. Ima dosta toga da se nauči. Ne bih puno da pametujem, na ovo pitanje bolje da se uključe Bane i Macan.
Ako te zanima moje mišljenje glede toga rado ću ti odgovoriti.
Bane i ja odavno vodimo rat. Još od jednog iskrivljenog durbina |
| all_ba |
Posted - 15/01/2010 : 18:56:36
Ima tu štofa, bolji ti je rad nego npr. kad je Jules počeo da crta na Neznancu. To bi trebalo nešto da ti znači.
U svakom slučaju pohvala za rad i trud. Ako hočeš ozbiljnije da se pozabaviš stripom (ovo važi za sve one početnike, koje sam vidio na našem saitu), moraš da savladaš osnovne stvari iz anatomije, da vježbaš, vježbaš..., da dobiješ sigurnost poteza, naravno da savladaš tehniku crtanja i tuširanja. Ima dosta toga da se nauči. Ne bih puno da pametujem, na ovo pitanje bolje da se uključe Bane i Macan.
Ako te zanima moje mišljenje glede toga rado ću ti odgovoriti. |
| mlLandj3 |
Posted - 14/01/2010 : 21:11:29
quote:
Originally posted by Mhejl
Milane, koji rad je stariji?
ovaj drugi |
| Mhejl |
Posted - 14/01/2010 : 20:43:33
Milane, koji rad je stariji? |
| mlLandj3 |
Posted - 14/01/2010 : 19:24:47
evo još jedne priče. ovoga puta scenario je originalan doduše isto pod uticajem kinematografije
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| todorko |
Posted - 14/01/2010 : 16:26:48
Pripovetka se zove "Pokojnica"(bar je tako prevedeno). Može se naći u knjizi "Priviđenje" od Gi de Mopasana. Izdavač je Politika, Novine i magazini d.o.o. Narodna knjiga. Inače pored spomenute, ima još nekoliko pričica koje su se meni jako svidele. Mislim da se može napraviti jako dobar album od 46 stranica po toj pripovetci. |
| Mhejl |
Posted - 14/01/2010 : 14:05:46
Baš volim da čitam ovakve priče i stripove.
Fino si ovo uradio, sve pohvale. |
| mlLandj3 |
Posted - 14/01/2010 : 08:30:19
quote:
Originally posted by ned_lynx
quote:
Dva su razloga zašto sam odlučio da ovu priču nacrtam. Jedan je, kao što rekoh, projekcija Noći živih mrtvaca nekoliko dana pre toga a drugi je taj totalni preokret od jedne tugaljive priče udovca do tog neočekivanog šamara na kraju.
Treba, dakle, pogledati taj film za dalje razumevanje rada; no, kako se noć živih mrtvaca zove u originalu?
Ma to je kultni film o zombijima Džordža Romera. Snimio je on posle još desetak filmova iz tog ciklusa. Nije on uticao toliko suštinom filma već tom "noir" atmosferom". U pitanju je crno-beli film koji se dogadja na groblju. Žena i muškarac su zarobljeni u kući pod udarom zombija
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0063350/ |
| ned_lynx |
Posted - 14/01/2010 : 04:57:47
quote:
Dva su razloga zašto sam odlučio da ovu priču nacrtam. Jedan je, kao što rekoh, projekcija Noći živih mrtvaca nekoliko dana pre toga a drugi je taj totalni preokret od jedne tugaljive priče udovca do tog neočekivanog šamara na kraju.
Treba, dakle, pogledati taj film za dalje razumevanje rada; no, kako se noć živih mrtvaca zove u originalu? |
| mlLandj3 |
Posted - 13/01/2010 : 08:46:44
quote:
Originally posted by C Celtic
Moje pohvale , pogledao i pročitao sa zadovoljstvom 
hvala, baš mi je drago |
| C Celtic |
Posted - 13/01/2010 : 08:36:24
Moje pohvale , pogledao i pročitao sa zadovoljstvom |
| mlLandj3 |
Posted - 13/01/2010 : 08:17:02
quote:
Originally posted by ned_lynx
Redom: zanima me kojom je crtačkom tehnikom napravljen gornji privju, na to ne dobih odgovor.
Zatim, nejasno mi je, je li scenario rađen po, pretpostavljam, osakaćenoj priči iz trećeg oka, jer: već u prvoj slici, introspekcija (nema je), tek iz dalje priče, vidi se da je scenario mogao biti pripovedački raskošniji i raskalašniji, širi prostor a ima i gde da ide; grešim?
najklasičnije moguće, tušem. Scenario je bukvalna adaptacija priče kojoj je (valjda za potrebe novine kakva je Treće oko)izostavljen uvod. Ovde je priča bukvalno krenula od "voleo sam je ludo. juče sam se vratio u pariz".
Dva su razloga zašto sam odlučio da ovu priču nacrtam. Jedan je, kao što rekoh, projekcija Noći živih mrtvaca nekoliko dana pre toga a drugi je taj totalni preokret od jedne tugaljive priče udovca do tog neočekivanog šamara na kraju. |
| ned_lynx |
Posted - 13/01/2010 : 06:10:21
Redom: zanima me kojom je crtačkom tehnikom napravljen gornji privju, na to ne dobih odgovor.
Zatim, nejasno mi je, je li scenario rađen po, pretpostavljam, osakaćenoj priči iz trećeg oka, jer: već u prvoj slici, introspekcija (nema je), tek iz dalje priče, vidi se da je scenario mogao biti pripovedački raskošniji i raskalašniji, širi prostor a ima i gde da ide; grešim? |
| mlLandj3 |
Posted - 12/01/2010 : 08:22:32
Selected Writings
by Guy de Maupassant
WAS IT A DREAM?
"I had loved her madly!
"Why does one love? Why does one love? How queer it is to see only one being in the world, to have only one thought in one's mind, only one desire in the heart, and only one name on the lips--a name which comes up continually, rising, like the water in a spring, from the depths of the soul to the lips, a name which one repeats over and over again, which one whispers ceaselessly, everywhere, like a prayer.
"I am going to tell you our story, for love only has one, which is always the same. I met her and loved her; that is all. And for a whole year I have lived on her tenderness, on her caresses, in her arms, in her dresses, on her words, so completely wrapped up, bound, and absorbed in everything which came from her, that I no longer cared whether it was day or night, or whether I was dead or alive, on this old earth of ours.
"And then she died. How? I do not know; I no longer know anything. But one evening she came home wet, for it was raining heavily, and the next day she coughed, and she coughed for about a week, and took to her bed. What happened I do not remember now, but doctors came, wrote, and went away. Medicines were brought, and some women made her drink them. Her hands were hot, her forehead was burning, and her eyes bright and sad. When I spoke to her, she answered me, but I do not remember what we said. I have forgotten everything, everything, everything! She died, and I very well remember her slight, feeble sigh. The nurse said: 'Ah!' and I understood, I understood!
"I knew nothing more, nothing. I saw a priest, who said: 'Your mistress?' and it seemed to me as if he were insulting her. As she was dead, nobody had the right to say that any longer, and I turned him out. Another came who was very kind and tender, and I shed tears when he spoke to me about her.
"They consulted me about the funeral, but I do not remember anything that they said, though I recollected the coffin, and the sound of the hammer when they nailed her down in it. Oh! God, God!
"She was buried! Buried! She! In that hole! Some people came--female friends. I made my escape and ran away. I ran, and then walked through the streets, went home, and the next day started on a journey.
* * * * * * *
"Yesterday I returned to Paris, and when I saw my room again--our room, our bed, our furniture, everything that remains of the life of a human being after death--I was seized by such a violent attack of fresh grief, that I felt like opening the window and throwing myself out into the street. I could not remain any longer among these things, between these walls which had inclosed and sheltered her, which retained a thousand atoms of her, of her skin and of her breath, in their imperceptible crevices. I took up my hat to make my escape, and just as I reached the door, I passed the large glass in the hall, which she had put there so that she might look at herself every day from head to foot as she went out, to see if her toilette looked well, and was correct and pretty, from her little boots to her bonnet.
"I stopped short in front of that looking-glass in which she had so often been reflected--so often, so often, that it must have retained her reflection. I was standing there. trembling, with my eyes fixed on the glass--on that flat, profound, empty glass--which had contained her entirely, and had possessed her as much as I, as my passionate looks had. I felt as if I loved that glass. I touched it; it was cold. Oh! the recollection! sorrowful mirror, burning mirror, horrible mirror, to make men suffer such torments! Happy is the man whose heart forgets everything that it has contained, everything that has passed before it, everything that has looked at itself in it, or has been reflected in its affection, in its love! How I suffer!
"I went out without knowing it, without wishing it, and toward the cemetery. I found her simple grave, a white marble cross, with these few words:
" 'She loved, was loved, and died.'
"She is there, below, decayed! How horrible! I sobbed with my forehead on the ground, and I stopped there for a long time, a long time. Then I saw that it was getting dark, and a strange, mad wish, the wish of a despairing lover, seized me. I wished to pass the night, the last night, in weeping on her grave. But I should be seen and driven out. How was I to manage? I was cunning, and got up and began to roam about in that city of the dead. I walked and walked. How small this city is, in comparison with the other, the city in which we live. And yet, how much more numerous the dead are than the living. We want high houses, wide streets, and much room for the four generations who see the daylight at the same time, drink water from the spring, and wine from the vines, and eat bread from the plains.
"And for all the generations of the dead, for all that ladder of humanity that has descended down to us, there is scarcely anything, scarcely anything! The earth takes them back, and oblivion effaces them. Adieu!
"At the end of the cemetery, I suddenly perceived that I was in its oldest part, where those who had been dead a long time are mingling with the soil, where the crosses themselves are decayed, where possibly newcomers will be put to-morrow. It is full of untended roses, of strong and dark cypress-trees, a sad and beautiful garden, nourished on human flesh.
"I was alone, perfectly alone. So I crouched in a green tree and hid myself there completely amid the thick and somber branches. I waited, clinging to the stem, like a shipwrecked man does to a plank.
"When it was quite dark, I left my refuge and began to walk softly, slowly, inaudibly, through that ground full of dead people. I wandered about for a long time, but could not find her tomb again. I went on with extended arms, knocking against the tombs with my hands, my feet, my knees, my chest, even with my head, without being able to find her. I groped about like a blind man finding his way, I felt the stones, the crosses, the iron railings, the metal wreaths, and the wreaths of faded flowers! I read the names with my fingers, by passing them over the letters. What a night! What a night! I could not find her again!
"There was no moon. What a night! I was frightened, horribly frightened in these narrow paths, between two rows of graves. Graves! graves! graves! nothing but graves! On my right, on my left, in front of me, around me, everywhere there were graves! I sat down on one of them, for I could not walk any longer, my knees were so weak. I could hear my heart beat! And I heard something else as well. What? A confused, nameless noise. Was the noise in my head, in the impenetrable night, or beneath the mysterious earth, the earth sown with human corpses? I looked all around me, but I cannot say how long I remained there; I was paralyzed with terror, cold with fright, ready to shout out, ready to die.
"Suddenly, it seemed to me that the slab of marble on which I was sitting, was moving. Certainly it was moving, as if it were being raised. With a bound, I sprang on to the neighboring tomb, and I saw, yes, I distinctly saw the stone which I had just quitted rise upright. Then the dead person appeared, a naked skeleton, pushing the stone back with its bent back. I saw it quite clearly, although the night was so dark. On the cross I could read:
" 'Here lies Jacques Olivant, who died at the age of fifty-one. He loved his family, was kind and honorable, and died in the grace of the Lord.'
"The dead man also read what was inscribed on his tombstone; then he picked up a stone off the path, a little, pointed stone and began to scrape the letters carefully. He slowly effaced them, and with the hollows of his eyes he looked at the places where they had been engraved. Then with the tip of the bone that had been his forefinger, he wrote in luminous letters, like those lines which boys trace on walls with the tip of a lucifer match:
" 'Here reposes Jacques Olivant, who died at the age of fifty-one. He hastened his father's death by his unkindness, as he wished to inherit his fortune, he tortured his wife, tormented his children, deceived his neighbors, robbed everyone he could, and died wretched.'
"When he had finished writing, the dead man stood motionless, looking at his work. On turning round I saw that all the graves were open, that all the dead bodies had emerged from them, and that all had effaced the lies inscribed on the gravestones by their relations, substituting the truth instead. And I saw that all had been the tormentors of their neighbors--malicious, dishonest, hypocrites, liars, rogues, calumniators, envious; that they had stolen, deceived, performed every disgraceful, every abominable action, these good fathers, these faithful wives, these devoted sons, these chaste daughters, these honest tradesmen, these men and women who were called irreproachable. They were all writing at the same time, on the threshold of their eternal abode, the truth, the terrible and the holy truth of which everybody was ignorant, or pretended to be ignorant, while they were alive.
"I thought that SHE also must have written something on her tombstone, and now running without any fear among the half-open coffins, among the corpses and skeletons, I went toward her, sure that I should find her immediately. I recognized her at once, without seeing her face, which was covered by the winding-sheet, and on the marble cross, where shortly before I had read:
" 'She loved, was loved, and died.'
I now saw:
" 'Having gone out in the rain one day, in order to deceive her lover, she caught cold and died.'
* * * * * * *
"It appears that they found me at daybreak, lying on the grave unconscious."
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| mlLandj3 |
Posted - 12/01/2010 : 08:16:52
quote:
Originally posted by ned_lynx
U snu san:) i moja asocijacija na prvu; nije trebalo da čitam culfisov komentar, mea culpa.
Zanima me kojom su tehnikom rađene table? Ovo gledam na laptopu, pa je prilično nezahvalno za ocenu.
Kadriranje i rezovi, moram da pohvalim - dinamično i drži pažnju.
Scenario je takođe tvoj (naravno nastao po priči)?
Imaš li tu priču u digitalnom obliku? Pošalji mi na pp, ako je na sledećim jezicima: FR, EN, DE, HR, RS... vrlo bih voleo da je pročitam, čisto da vidim kako je išla tvoja edl faza. Fala unapred.
No senka na prvoj tabli mi je definitivno preterana, generalno. Kao i bokal. A i ogledalo. No postavka svetla i rakurs mi se vrlo dopadaju.
A koliko zapravo imaš godina, ako nije tajna? Imaš li išta još od radova? Zezancija ili ne, ne bi bilo loše da pogledamo, bar ja bih vol'o, ako nikako drugačije, ono preko privatnih poruka ili maila.
hvala na komentarima. godina mi je 36 a ovo je nastalo pre desetak godina. Kad kažem zezancija, mislim na to da sam se do tada trudio da pravim komercijalne stripove koje ću jednog dana nuditi izdavačima. Ovo je bio prvi put da je u meni proradio umetnički izazov.
Priča je tada objavljena u listu "Treće oko". Mnogo godina kasnije sam našao verziju na engleskom, samo sam preleteo preko teksta i čini mi se da malo kompleksnija od onog što je tamo objavljeno.
Takodje nije mala stvar što sam neki dan pre toga gledao "Noć živih mrtvaca" |
| ned_lynx |
Posted - 12/01/2010 : 04:38:24
U snu san:) i moja asocijacija na prvu; nije trebalo da čitam culfisov komentar, mea culpa.
Zanima me kojom su tehnikom rađene table? Ovo gledam na laptopu, pa je prilično nezahvalno za ocenu.
Kadriranje i rezovi, moram da pohvalim - dinamično i drži pažnju.
Scenario je takođe tvoj (naravno nastao po priči)?
Imaš li tu priču u digitalnom obliku? Pošalji mi na pp, ako je na sledećim jezicima: FR, EN, DE, HR, RS... vrlo bih voleo da je pročitam, čisto da vidim kako je išla tvoja edl faza. Fala unapred.
No senka na prvoj tabli mi je definitivno preterana, generalno. Kao i bokal. A i ogledalo. No postavka svetla i rakurs mi se vrlo dopadaju.
A koliko zapravo imaš godina, ako nije tajna? Imaš li išta još od radova? Zezancija ili ne, ne bi bilo loše da pogledamo, bar ja bih vol'o, ako nikako drugačije, ono preko privatnih poruka ili maila. |
| culfis |
Posted - 12/01/2010 : 00:31:40
...kao u snu san!
ono o `zezanciji` verovatno mislis na stripove koje si ti radio, ili...?
Imas atmosferu, jedna scena me neodoljivo podseca na Michael Jackson Thriller! Eto rada za neki od konkursa! Pozz
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