Posted by Otto Robba in Concept Art on 09. Mar, 2010 | 1 Comment
I will be straightforward: I love comic books. That said, I have had this story laying around for a while and it is bugging me to get out. In order to practice and see what style would work for it, I started trying. This is one of the results.
A group of sketches and studies I did on the subject of, well, hands 
. Used mostly mine for the poses, although some I drew from photographs that were provided in art classes last year. Yes, the title is a silly pun – forgive me!
A small group of sketches and studies I did based on photographic reference and the Drawing School book.
Creating a character involves a series of steps. You need to research and sketch a lot, from poses to small details. In here I show a bit of a couple of studies I did.
Design I made for a t-shirt contest at shirt.woot. Theme: ‘Birds’. Gotta love Snoopy and Dodos.
7 Designs I made for a t-shirt contest at shirt.woot. Theme: ‘Visual Pun’. They might be silly… correction, they are. Here is hoping they are funny.
A design I made for a t-shirt contest at shirt.woot. Theme is ‘National Park’.
I’m pretty sure the undead have a national park of sorts… Or not. But still!
A design I made for a t-shirt contest at shirt.woot. Theme is ‘Harvest’.
For centuries mankind has been fooled by aliens into thinking they steal our cattle for probing, science and other shenanigans. Lies.
They just want our milk-shake, it brings all the greys (and greens) to the cornfield.
A design I made for a t-shirt contest at shirt.woot. Theme was ‘Japan’. Essentially, it is a robot, a mister robot saying “You are welcome.”. All those people saying “Domo Arigato Mr.Roboto” and there never was an answer from Mr. Roboto, which seemed to me to be quite rude.
A design I made for a t-shirt contest at shirt.woot. Theme was ‘Japan’.
The basic idea is to have the ‘Kokoro’ kanji right on top of the person’s heart. Kokoro can mean heart, soul, mind, intelligence, center and core, thus the idea here was to have the rising sun as if emanating from within.
A goddess of creation, a harmonic symbol of the world, with nature’s ‘machines’ exposed, as the secrets of the universe unravel at her fingertips. Ancient societies would believe that this matriarchal figure is the one responsible for all existence and maintaining the balance in all planes. Where there is no life, she brings life. Where there is life, she must bring death. An infinite cycle, hers to command.
In a lazy afternoon I took out a pen and started sketching what I believe to be my version of the MadHatter, a character that always makes me smile. Only loses for the Chesire Cat but then again… who CAN compete with the Chesire cat? Nobody can.
As the last task in our drawing course, we had to create a character from scratch. Essentially, what character concept artists do for a living. My character is, in essence, an immortal soul bound into an immortal body, acting as a hunter and avatar of the goddess of death, Kali.
A model I made for a short-movie I never got to finish. I quite like the end result, although I must say, this is extremely old.
One of my favorite X-Men, Gambit manages to be a prick with quite a bit of flair heh. Plus, you can’t go wrong with exploding cards. I mean… c’mon. Exploding. Cards.
Posted by Otto Robba in Poetry on 26. Jan, 2010 | No Comments
Expected perfection out of me
But they just couldn’t see that
I couldn’t hold the world in place
And thus I fell into eternal disgrace.
They undressed me with their eyes,
Saw my flaws and built the lies.
I shouted for them to let me go,
Sever the chord, cut all the ties.
They only stared me dead in the face
And told me to know my place.
Posted by Otto Robba in Poesia on 26. Jan, 2010 | No Comments
É estranho ser estrangeiro,
ver o mundo por olhos castanhos,
Andar entre fantasmas de pessegueiros,
Entre sombras de estranhos.
Mas de vez em quando,
quando a sorte sorri e a chuva não pára,
Quando todos olham pra baixo e ninguém repara…
Estrangeiros se encontram em casa.
Braços que sabem acolher,
Beijos para te receber,
Olhares que fazem saber;
Nesse mundo louco e engravatado
Nada supera vagar ao seu lado.
Posted by Otto Robba in Poesia on 25. Jan, 2010 | No Comments
Não é menos sincero o clichê
por ser clichê.
Nem menos verdadeiro dizer
que amo você.
Me servem as palavras para comunicar,
Que nenhuma outra eu poderia amar
Como aquela tão bela que sabe rimar
Um beijo, um sorriso, um olhar.
Posted by Otto Robba in Prosa on 15. Jan, 2010 | No Comments
É sem dúvida frustante o quão rápido o tempo se esvai quando estamos com quem gostamos. Horas se comprimem em memórias repletas de odores, sorrisos, abraços e apertões, leves e marcados, movimentos que não poderiam ser outra coisa senão afeto. E quando essas horas terminam e tudo que sobra é o solavanco do ônibus no caminho de casa, dá uma certa sensação de vazio e nos pegamos parafraseando Drummond em nossas cabeças.
E agora, José?
A festa acabou,
a luz apagou,
o povo sumiu,
a noite esfriou,
e agora, José?
Mas, em tentando lidar com essa frustação do badalar e da abóbora, parte de mim grita respondendo. Seja como for a brevidade desses encontrões no tumulto que é a vida, cada segundo a mais é um segundo a menos, nos aproximando do final e afastando do começo – grãos de areia que percorrem um sentido só, sem nunca retornar, sem permitir um relance, uma segunda chance de aproveitá-los.
Mais do que nunca me faz sentido a palavra ‘conviver’. Ao viver com, partilhar experiências e criar memórias, estamos escolhendo ainda que de maneira inconsciente, à quem entregar parte de nossa vida – . E, no final da noite, não poderia eu estar mais feliz por quem eu escolhi e por quem me escolheu.
Posted by Otto Robba in Poetry on 13. Jan, 2010 | No Comments
Born without a clue
of who is who,
I’ve learned it’s easy to know
it is you.
Life is an adventure
one needs not brave alone.
But you better be careful
With who you bring home.
I’ll help ’cause
it is easy to show,
Who is right and who
has to go.
It is all in how you greet,
and how you stand
in the rain.
If you can say goodbye
And you don’t wanna say hello
Than they gotta go.
They gotta go.
If a goodbye cannot be cast
And ‘hello’ has so long ago been said
That you don’t remember ever being apart,
She’s got you by the heart.