THE ECHO: BKV's long-lost project with Patrick Gleason
An exclusive look at our pitch from way back in 1998!
Hey, I was just thinking about you! How’s your week been?
Thanks for all the kind words about Saga 58. I love that musicians are recognizing that mega-genius Fiona Staples accurately drew Hazel struggling to master a C major here:
I also greatly appreciate Image Comics letting us put an ad for Spectators in the back of that issue. The fact that Image allows its creators to run whatever we want in our comics, even if it’s advertisements for projects with other companies, is one of the many reasons they remain the best comic publisher on the planet.
Anyway, if you’re a new reader lured here by that siren song, welcome! Every Monday, you’ll be getting FREE new pages of Niko Henrichon’s and my ongoing serialized graphic novel Spectators, which you can catch up on anytime over at the Exploding Giraffe archives. And every Friday, our generous paid subscribers will get some exclusive content and/or prize opportunities (while the rest of you lovable freeloaders will at least get a tempting taste like this).
Oh, and exciting news for our patient Founders. Niko Henrichon just sent over the next big batch of his breathtaking full-color sketches for you:
Santa’s sweatshop is again open for business, and my Underage Labor Squad is already carefully stuffing envelopes with your artwork, signed comics, and Saga #1 scripts.
And if you’re already a monthly or annual subscriber in The Tower, it’s not too late to upgrade and receive your own Exploding Giraffe Prize Package.
Okay, enough boring upselling!
This week, I wanted to talk about one of my favorite human beings, Patrick Gleason, a ridiculously gifted artist who’s also become an incredible writer (an increasingly worrying trend among my former collaborators).
You probably know Patrick from his unparalleled runs on Batman & Robin, Supersons and now The Amazing Spider-Man, but I first met him at Wizard World Chicago way back in 1997.
I don’t even think I was quite old enough to legally drink yet, but I was a hungry young freelancer with a few meager credits under his belt, and I was desperate to “network” with editors, something that absolutely never works.
But while I was wandering the convention floor in my usual depressed haze, I spotted a young kid carrying around a portfolio. Even though I could only see a fraction of one of his drawings, I was instantly electrified. For maybe the first time in my deeply antisocial existence, I worked up the courage to introduce myself to this complete stranger and ask if I could please check out more of his stuff.
I flatter myself to think that I have a particularly good eye for recognizing future artistic superstars, but the truth is that anyone who took the time to look at those first sample pages from a young Patrick Gleason would have seen what I did. Out of the gate, his style was wholly unique, his storytelling was crystal clear, and every panel—even the quietest talking heads shot—was infused with love, obsessive attention to detail, and FUN.
Plus, this guy was/is kind, humble and fucking hilarious. You knew instantly he’d be a joy to work with, and I couldn’t believe he hadn’t been scooped up by the majors yet.
Pat and I kept in touch, and I eventually asked if he’d be interested in collaborating on a brief proposal for an unconventional new quasi-superhero book I’d been considering, one that we’d be able to pitch to Marvel, DC, or anyone who’d have us.
I couldn’t believe he said yes, and twenty-three years later, I also can’t believe that I finally unearthed my only surviving copy of our pitch, which Pat is graciously allowing me to share with you.
To be continued… immediately after this cliffhanger of a paywall!