Marlowe Lewis is old. I mean really, really old. So old in fact, that the first ever sequential art that I ever saw was when my lifelong friend in our small clan began painting bison on the cave walls. This was a true turning point in my life. Firstly, I was immediately and irrevocably hooked on the visual arts and secondly I discovered another use for dried bison dung.
I am British. This is not an apology. Our empire stretched all around the world at one point but all we seem to be remembered for now is Shakespeare and extremely bad dental hygiene. (By the way, I knew Shakespeare personally and he was the one that originally came up with the retractable claws idea but he couldn’t manage to place it into The Taming of the Shrew, although in one of his lost sonnets he did manage to fit in the that wonderful line, Forsooth, Bub)
I was already living in New York during the birth of comics. I well remember sitting in a midtown bar with Bob Kane and listening to him tell me of his inspiration of a costumed here influenced by a rodent he had seen whilst out walking. You all have a lot to thank me for — it was going to be called Squirrel-Man until I talked him out of it.
In my day job I write. When I come home I write some more, usually about other things than the stuff I wrote at work. One of those home writing things is comics. I have read a lot of comics in my extremely long life. I tens of thousands of them at home and I must have been really influenced by the three little pigs when I was a child because it sometimes feels like I am building a refuge against the big bad wolf out of long boxes.
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