Back in Oregon...

Quick, probably inaccurate impressions: costumes were really good this year. In the past, guests and non-costumed attendees made fun of them, now they often go over and ask how the suit was made. Is the costume contest now giving vacation packages or something? Lessee... young, promising artists aren't so young nor promising now. There wasn't a whole lot to write home about in the page samples people were showing me, and every time I asked their age, which I always do to gauge development, they were mostly older than they should have been for the level of work. I will say that overall critique-request manner was good though. Most everyone listened carefully and didn't just ask "how do I get work?" So there's that. Plenty of kids at the show, and more women who actually read comics as opposed to being dragged in by their boyfriends.
Oh wait, there was one really talented and young artist, a guy from Brazil. He'd created an elaborate world of characters, with lavishly detailed environments. The only odd thing was that his characters were all muscular and four and a half heads tall. They were well-rendered and completely consistent, and their proportions even made a strange sort of sense. He himself was muscular and very short, so the inspiration wasn't hard to imagine. I was confounded at what advice to give. Something like "If this is your particular vision, then do things the way you want to. But in the G8 Nations, we're used to people drawn taller." More unsettling was that he kept saying "thank you sir. Yes sir, " which made me feel pedantic and old at the same time.

No Such Thing As A Free Lunch or a Tolerant Scot
I had an invitation to another Hart Reickhof luncheon over at the Yacht Club behind the Marriott. Battling through the crowd, I wonder what luminaries Hart will have rousted this year, and what pricey food will I gorge upon? I didn't eat breakfast, so this was going to be an important part of getting through the day as well as good social time. I wind back through the maze that takes you by the pools and foliage, and finally arrive at the host desk, where they point out my dining party arrived on time at noon, and it's 3:00 now. I shuffle back to the convention in a ravenous state, though briefly made tranquil by being outside. When I reenter, the lights and sound feel like an assault-- I'm King Kong being peppered by newspapermen's flashbulbs. I'm weak, and all remaining brainpower is channeled into keeping me heading in the direction of my table. It's at this point that I see Eddie Campbell's table, and foolishly go over to see what he has. I'm trying to pick out a Bacchus trade to buy, and Eddie joins the attack, asking which ones I have. I have no idea. I can't get out the fact that I've mostly bought issues and sporadically at that, and in this state I couldn't tell you what work I've done, let alone what comics I own. Eddie's getting impatient with me, and staring at my nametag so he can better identify the type of idiot standing before him. I just keep gravitating to Doing The Islands With Bacchus, it has that relaxing blue cover with the beach scene. Why can't I be there? Eddie doesn't believe I've ever read his work. Instead of here. Looks at my tag again.
"Well that's a good one to bring you into the stories, number 3."
"Oh, I've been reading Bacchus for a while, I really like it. Who's that character?"
"That's Bacchus."
"Yeah."
I try to explain my confusion due to lack of sleep, but he's not buying it. I'm not used to dealing with people taller than me either. I finally pay for Islands and make a break for it.
As detailed in my Megacon report, Bo Hampton and Alex Saviuk reconnected for the first time in years, and now here they are in the Alley like a buddy picture, selling art and solving crimes. Alex heard that an auction upstairs had food, so a group of us head up to crash that like a bunch of college kids. Not happening. There is a somber auction with car-priced comics on the block, but no food for us. At least I saw an Elvgren painting. We then traipse out into the Gaslamp District and find a Henneseys. Good, affordable food, with a friendly yet racist waitress. While discussing beach cities, she mentioned ones where she thought of moving, and one was out of the running because "it's all Beantown now." Her delivery was so casual that it didn't register with us until Bo said "Did you catch that?" After that we went to the very nice and comfortable lounge area of the Hilton where my friends Roc and Laurie were staying, and this was a good place to work on commission pieces. I finished up an Interman scene for world-famous letterhack Malcolm Bourne, who earlier did a panel on "The Death of the Letter Column". Drawing Galactus is great and all, but it's a really good feeling doing sketches of your own characters that someone actually wanted. Another one I was happy about was a piece for Charlie Chu, who should get some certificate for being one of the few people to actually send me a jpeg of it as I requested. During all the excitement...