My earliest memories include coloring in coloring books on a cement floor with my mother. She joked that art was the only subject she ever passed. She only went up through the sixth grade, but it wasn't her fault though. Her father owned a farm and seemed to only have children for free labor, so they were only allowed to attend school until the harvest came in. Then, they all had to work the farm. She is the source of all our talent if it can be arrived at genetically.
We were three brothers and our family only had me, I was told, because they were trying one more time for a girl. Poor mom. Luckily, she got to babysit my neighbor's daughter and several other little girls which she spoiled endlessly. Either way, the three of us were always drawing. We drew on brown grocery sacks. We'd cut it up and divide the flat spaces. Me being the youngest, and least talented, got the smallest pieces. Our mother would actually buy us coloring books, sketch pads, and art supplies but we would burn through it all.
Our father got a job working as the janitor for the petroleum plant after he worked there all day. We joined him there with our mother after school to help him finish more quickly. As payment, we were allowed to take the reams of reports they printed and threw away every day, and were allowed to eat the stale doughnuts that remained in the break room. One side was alternating green and white bands and the other was large, wide, and plain white paper. We'd tear off the hole punched, perforated edges and we'd have stacks of fresh canvases for our work.
Whenever the school had art contests, first place was really only between our middle brother and I. Our oldest brother was four years older than me, but the middle brother was only one year older. We were very close and shared everything. After elementary school, our talents diverged but were solidly founded in art.
The eldest fell in love with comic books at a very early age. Our father gifted him some G.I. Joe and Captain America comics he picked up from the 7-11 near our house. He had no idea what he had just done. My brother was given the first love of his life. My middle brother and I don't know when we started drawing because it had always been a part of our lives. No doubt, we just copied our big brother in pursuing his great love because he was cooler than us in everything he did. But for him, it was this moment. Eventually he could draw just like they did in the comics. He left home after high school to attend a commercial art school in Arizona and came back being able to do caricatures of people.
My middle brother fell in love with painting. He favored realism above all else. He could take a photograph or the cover of Sports Illustrated and turn it into a painting. He was equally skilled with colored pencils, watercolors, gouache, and oil. The man was a genius with paint. When I got married his wedding gift was a painting I commissioned. He made me two silver reflective dolphins playfully swimming through the cosmos together very close to each other. That painting will always hang above our bed, so I see it and think of him every single day.
I fell in love with reading and writing. The novels I read were always imagined in my mind like a comic book. I wouldn't envision real life players on a stage usually. I'd imagine how the images were rendered on a movie screen, animated film, or a comic book. I imagined them as Dungeons and Dragons adventures. I quit drawing, never having attained either of my brother's level of skill, but continued to read and eventually write.
Now, my eldest brother and I are collaborating on a comic book. It's historical fiction with a sprinkle of magic thrown in. That's all I will say for now though. I actually find myself writing in my mind throughout the day. I put myself in the frame of mind of one of my characters and put them through scenarios. It's important for the characters to live and breathe naturally. By the time I put a character's first line of dialogue or action to print, I've observed a good portion of these character's lives before the story. It helps in making them react organically and believably. My limited drawing talent can be brought to bear drawing thumbnails for the sequences I'm describing in my scripts for my brother. It's no where near as good as what they could do, but it's enough to convey action, position, and emotion.
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