Transitioning to Copic Markers



My first experience with coloring a comic was not the best foot forward I could have made. I had seen very well-done comics with greys done digitally, and I wanted a piece of that. Not only did I (as I do now) think that greys lend more emotion to the comics, but the tone of Axolotl and its setting benefits greatly from grey tones, especially when there are an enormity of grey tones. Axolotl takes place in an older time but more importantly, a place where many different peoples mingle. I wanted to properly capture the various skin tones, hair colors, eye colors, the colors of their outfits. With an arsenal of so many greys, I could better emphasize the diversity of Ao Lai with more than just different facial features, although that's good fun. But about the coloring style...

I had done numerous digitally colored pieces before the start of Axolotl's first coloring, at least a hundred easily. So I thought coloring greyscale would be just a lot of the same thing. I was very, very wrong. Not only was the process more involved, meticulous, and reliant on correctness than I originally foresaw, but it was time-consuming and immensely draining to have complete 24 pages with nothing but grey grey grey... When I had finally finished it, I knew I could never do that again.

Earlier that same year, I believe, or maybe the one before, I had tried copic markers for the first time. Being proficient in pencil shading, I took to it very easily. I was pleased with the soft, natural look of it as well as the ease and speed at which I was able to use it. Also important was its traditional style of use: because it was an actual tool and not a Photoshop tool, I had a more natural connection with it and was even able to work with it pretty much where I wanted. After an exhaustive process of getting the first Axolotl episode colored, I decided it was time to go back to traditional methods and use the copic markers to color Axolotl.

Here are some coloring tests I did for the four main characters I have so far for Axolotl. I had intended on the ease of this newer method, and I was not at all disappointed there. But I hadn't counted on an added bonus. The markers, at least the way I'd done them, have a sort of faux-watercolor look to them. The slightly blotchy look to them, the irregularities, the very soft accents. I think it adds to the old-timey feel of the comic. It also emphasizes the very round, bold style of my lineart.

I also get the feeling that a traditional tool inherently, and perhaps to the audience, subconsciously, allows for a wider margin of error. Maybe it's because of the implied permanence of the medium, but maybe because its (usual) lack of perfection lends something to the personality of the art. It may be due to the great deal of digital art floating around us nowadays, the appearance of something that has clearly seen the human hand is refreshing. I think so. It's not as if I hate digital art; I love a well-colored digital piece. It's just that that extra mile done traditionally means so much more to me.

The portability and versatility of the copic markers is an especially important factor to me. I only have one Adobe Photoshop Elements installed on one computer, so I can only Photoshop when I'm home and at my computer. And if the power hasn't blown out. With copic markers, I can use them during a blackout and away from home, provided I have light, something not as much of a hassle to find. This also means that I can lounge somewhere and color while I watch something. I can be physically comfortable and more relaxed while working as opposed to sitting in pretty much the same position to color for several hours. And what would come from being more comfortable but having more fun? And having more fun may lead to a more expressive and fun art style.

Naturally, I'll have to be aware of the expensiveness of the copic markers I use, and I do use quite a few. As they're about eight bucks or so a piece, my arsenal of about 12 costs about $96. Thankfully, I use them out of proportion to each other, so they die at varying times of the process and not all at once. But $8 a marker is a lot, and I'm not averse to looking for a substitute good.

Benefits of Fanart, Maybe?

When people hear the term “fanart,” for the most part, I think people associate the image of fanART with fanDOM. Artists who aren’t creative enough to create their own characters and just turn into drooling fanboys/fangirls who write bad fanfic, you know, that type of crowd. But just as not all fans are rabid, not all fanart is useless. In fact, I personally think drawing fanart can help an artist observe things in ways that drawing original characters doesn’t always do as well.

My favorite backup for this point is that drawing fanart can help you discover (and keep in touch with) what aspects of design you favor over others, i.e. how colors interact with certain characters or what style of clothes they wear or something. And other artists have reported that identifying the aspects of design that work well your style will, in turn, help you evolve your style. I think, too, that it’s a pretty big help if you talk about what you like about the character in at least your final rendition of the character if you’re posting your pic online.

I’m speaking from experience. On my Tumblr blog, I occasionally do Dragon Ball fanart, and I learned a lot about my personal sense of aesthetics by drawing my favorite characters. For instance, by drawing Frieza and going into why I like him so much, I realized, “Hey, I like it when characters have stuff framing them.” And now I can incorporate that into my artwork as I so please, and I seriously don’t know if I would have discovered my love of framing any time soon.

Second neat point, though it’s a touchy one: branding. By talking about how much you enjoy Charlie Brown or something, you can also, depending on what your work is, show that what people find in, say, the art of Charlie Brown may also be found in your art. Maybe. It depends on how much DNA you and your favorite stories share, of course. But let’s say for the sake of arguments that they share some. Because there’s a similarity between your work and Charlie Brown, the latter audience is more likely to take a gander at your stuff.

And here’s where it starts to get itchy. It sounds crass and sleazy as if you’re saying, “If I just draw enough Charlie Brown, I’ll get a bazillion followers, and then I’ll be richer than heavy cream.” No, I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is that your public exploration of something will probably cause at least a few people to give you a double take. And as long as you honestly, really, really do love what fanart you’re doing (it is called FANart, after all), you’d be wise to take advantage of that. If not, be aware of it, at least.

Last but not least, my final topic is also not really a fan favorite. Findability. It’s related to the second topic in that it involves an artist’s audience. By doing fanart of something popular or well-known, you make yourself easier to find. And again, that sounds like a dishonest scheme, but it isn’t if it’s not coming from a dishonest place, at least from where I’m standing. If you’re honestly into a thing that’s really popular, then do it. Draw it. You’ll gain from the experience of exploring what you enjoy, and you may experience more traffic to your site as well. Plus, the traffic might give you critiques, which are invaluable.

To summarize, in my opinion, fanart is useful for discovering the aesthetics you wish to capture or enjoy, and by sharing it, you invite similar thinkers to your site or blog or whatever, which can help you cultivate your brand and your audience.

Frieza Fanart

Thank you. =P