Early Influences

At home in West Virginia working on Wild Child #2, I found my childhood stash of comics.

In my hometown, which had a population of approximately 2500 in the 1990s, the "comic shop" was Kroger. My options there were: 

Comics and friends.

• Archie - I bought a few issues but couldn't really relate to the tribulations of popular kids who had friends.
• Batman! - My first crush (still going).
• MAD Magazine - Against all parental-control norms, I was allowed to read MAD on a regular basis, which I can only attribute to divine intervention. 

On rare occasions, my family would drive to the closest mall 45 minutes away. Over time, I accumulated: 

• MAD About the Sixties - a big book of jokes I wasn't old enough to understand.
• A single issue of Tales From the Crypt - #9, copyright 1994 - because I watched the show on TV every Saturday night.
• The Crow by James O'Barr - after seeing the movie during my teenage goth phase.
• A prized collection of Ren & Stimpy Comics #7-18 - because my classmates talked about the show, but we didn't have cable.

New title page for the 2nd edition of
Wild Child #1. 

That's a comprehensive list. After a long hiatus, the next comic I read was Ghost World in 2002. My collection now is modest and selective, consisting mostly of books by artists I've met.

Several people have asked me recently who my influences are. 

I keep three books on the shelf next to my drawing desk:

• Garage Band by Gipi
• I Never Liked You by Chester Brown
• The Complete Stories by Flannery O'Connor 

But I don't open them often. Limited exposure has taught/forced me to create with minimal influence. And I like it that way.

Untitled Comic from 2005

I'm going home for a while soon and hopefully learning how to drive, so it seems like a good time to share the first comic I made as an adult.

Hiding Place

The house where I grew up is in a very special place—an isolated, womblike enclosure of acres of forest and fields. As a kid, I played outside whenever I could, striking magical flint rocks, concocting various formulas of mud in the creek, naming and talking to the trees like they were my friends. When I transformed into a brooding, miserable teenager, the familiar woods became my escape by default; it was the only thing within walking distance on all sides.

Photo by Josh Barker

The woods (the wild) was a safe place where I could think, try out new voices and facial expressions, be angry if I wanted to be. More importantly, it was a solitary place where I could hide emotionally, and if no one could find me, no one could hurt me. When I couldn't physically escape to the woods, I retreated to my thoughts and hid there instead.

But, even in a good hiding spot, the forest does not feel safe at night, and, surrounded by the dark and dangers both real and perceived, one becomes acutely aware that she is alone.

I will find my way out.