Ellerbisms

As promised, to coincide with the 200th edition of Ellerbisms this week sees strips, art, et cetera based on…well…me.

First up is every one’s favourite tiny but violent comic artist Lizz Lunney.  Lizz has appeared in the strip before (starting from here) and so you should be already familiar with her comics about depressed cats, chucklesome burgers, fat pigeons and leaning rabbits.  I love Lizz’s stuff so much, every book she brings out sends me to hysterics, including her newest venture Grizzly Bear Thursday, a blog where people draw big ol grizzlies.

Anyway, this is Lizz’s take on an old favourite. Make sure to come back on Friday for a second Lunney strip!

Next up we have Proper Comic Artist Emma Vieceli. Cor, her art’s graced the pages of The DFC,  Phonogram The Singles Club, she’s illustrated two manga shakespeare books for Self Made Hero; Hamlet and Much To Do About Nothing, illustrated a story in that gigantic-can kill a man if dropped from a great height-Tori Amos comic anthology and is a total sweetheart.

I’ve been threatening to put Emma into Ellerbisms for years now, she does come out with some gems, but ultimately could never fit them into the strip. So, without further ado we present EMMABISMS (hahahahaha).

Last up for today is Matt Sheret. Matt’s a really good friend and again has appeared in the strip a few times, although has only spoken once, I think? Which is strange as he never shuts up with sage advice. I first met Matt through those horrible Phonogram men at the last proper Bristol con and it’s been a joyous friendship ever since. Matt’s primarily a writer so I asked him to write a little something about Ellerbisms and like Lizz above, he chose to reflect on our time at the Swedish Small Press Expo. If you like this, then you should check out his Polaroid Press series and visit him at his travelling small press comic stall, We Are Words and Pictures (they carry my books).

The Polaroid Press-erbism
Polariod by Liz Greenfield. Text by Matthew Sheret
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We were like Voltron once, and young, drunk on yellow labels and grinning through the cold. Rolling in the back of my head, I remember, the sound of voices whispering “Vi er orden och bilderna,” because prose and panel borders had taken us beautiful places.

_________________________ I stumbled after deer as we wandered home. And it was home, for a few days.

I think of Lizz pouting for the camera; I think of waking up to Cadwell in a hotbox, sun on the blinds, the sad words “Bye, bye Jeffrey Brown,” set to burst out of his lips; of Liz shouting over Euro-pop “I think I’m only now just starting to know the people I want to know for the rest of my life,” and how very right she was.

__________________ I think of Anna in the old town, and with effort I can see her long black sleeves, her canvas shoes and another hard-to-draw haircut that Marc will never ever get right enough.

I think of the timing, of course. ________________ I think of Marc’s face looking out over the city, eyes of tears and too-recent memories, his mouth forming the words “I can’t believe we’re in Stockholm, Matt,” for a fourth time, “I can’t believe I’m here!”

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That’s all for today, there’s content on here for the rest of the week, so come back tomorrow for more self obsessed celebrations.