Drawn together

Fredd Gorham is passionate about superheroes, sci-fi, video games, hobbits and all that geeky “Star Wars” stuff.

And he is, perhaps, one of the coolest dudes I've met in Omaha.

We swapped business cards at a Halloween event last October. I began following him on Twitter. His posts are hilarious: “So ... did Oral Roberts default on his metaphysical mortgage?”

Last November, Gorham invited me to Artist Jam.

“A group of us get together to draw comics,” he said. “Bring your laptop; writers are welcome.”

I'd heard of writers brainstorming at coffeehouses. Photographers swapping ideas at studios. And techies talking phone apps at the Apple Store. But never had I witnessed a creative session among comic artists.

Normally, I don't get nutty over meet-ups. But I'm kind of a closet comic-book fan. I used to sneak into my older brother's room to read his plastic-wrapped comics. I recently learned to appreciate them again.

So I made plans to attend the November jam at Krypton Comics, 2819 South 125th Ave., their hideout.

When the day came, I was stuck at home, sick with mono. And the 30 or so participants only meet on the third Saturday of each month. Great kryptonite. I had to wait.

If you show next time, Gorham told me, “I will bring a puppy.”

The night before the next Artist Jam Saturday, I dreamed of flying superheroes and diabolical villains. Smack! Bang! Pow! I had telepathic visions like X-Men's Phoenix and the beauty, but not the lasso, of Wonder Woman. Maybe I was like Princess Adora and didn't realize my birthright as She-Ra until I met my superhero counterparts. For the honor of Grayskull, of course.

On the big day, I rushed to pick up my brother Pedro. He was just as thrilled as I was about the invite. I guess it was my way of making amends for pilfering his comics.

We drove on back streets to avoid traffic. I whipped my car into a parking spot and we ran for the door. The cold air bit at my nose and ears. “To the bat cave, Pedro!”

Inside, we found action figures and poster boards. Wire racks of DVDs. And rows and rows of comic books, current and back issues: truly a paper-bound paradise. Tucked in a corner, the comic artists quietly worked, sitting in folding chairs at six tables.

“What's up,” I shouted, completely oblivious to the mood. “Oh, my bad.”

“You're fine,” Gorham chuckled. A black dog was near his feet.

Great Scott! He really did bring a puppy — a corgi, to be exact. He was dog-sitting Dioji Krypto, named after Superboy's dog.

Gorham introduced me to the comic guys — four gals joined the jam later that day. Laptops were open on the tables. Drawing paper was scattered about. Some artists had pencils and clipboards, while others used digital pens and notepads.

More comic artists are entering the digital stream, Gorham explained.

“It's like having an entire paint station without the mess.”

Some use a mix of traditional and high-tech tools to create their designs. Many will sketch a character, scan it into their computer and Photoshop color on the image. The quality of digital comics tends to be cleaner and brighter.

“That's how comic books are being produced more quickly,” he said.

In comic-book circles, Gorham is a rock star. By day, he works for a major architectural firm in Omaha. By night, he illustrates comics, games and books. He's worked for Steve Jackson Games, Marvel Comics and Hero Games. He's inspired others to pick up a sketch pencil with his “365 Days of Drawing” project — he draws an illustration a day for a year and shares them online.

He offers help and advice to newcomers, which is a rarity, I'm told. In fact, that's how Artist Jam was formed four years ago. Gorham and a few buddies were tired of drawing alone at home. So they asked the Krypton Comics' owner if they could have drawing sessions there to bring about a sense of community.

People shopping at the store would stop to watch. Some borrowed paper and joined on the spot. Word spread about the jam. Soon two dozen artists were clearing their schedules to spend a few hours at the comic shop.

It's not uncommon to see an 8-year-old coloring next to a 50-year-old outlining a superhero on a sketch card.

Across from Gorham that day sat an older guy wearing a black beanie. He propped a large pad against the table and began sketching a comic strip.

“That's Lou,” Gorham said. “He teaches a (comic) drawing class at Metro.”

My brother and I shadowed the comic artists. All were happy to show us their portfolios, from voluptuous vixens to a Christmas angel and a demented nutcracker. Some of the artists involved work for actual comic companies, such as Image, Marvel and DC. Some have their own strips and work as artists for a living selling their work at Krypton Comics or on Web sites. Others are doing it for fun.

We soaked up the free comic history lessons, like She-Hulk's beginnings and the difference between anime and manga. We learned about drawing techniques. The human anatomy, for instance, is key. Comic artists are meticulous. Drawings start at the spinal cord, then work up from there. The size of the waist, broad shoulders, round chest, hair color and underarms are important, especially when working on commissioned pieces.

Gorham knows everyone's ink stains, you might say. For instance, Dougie draws cartoony superheroes. Jared and Tyreece are book illustrators. Jon's strong suit is pin-up girls. Gerald does fantasy dragon sketches for fun.

“It's just nice to see how other people work,” Gorham said. “We always assume we're the only people in town that do this.”

And the shy kid in the back, Gorham continued, that's David Basile. He's a little self-conscious about his work.

“Whatever you do,” he joked. “Don't talk to him.”

Gorham pointed at the slender teen with a spiky mohawk.

“What did I do,” David, 13, grumbled.

He's a student at Westside Middle School who loves to doodle mostly gaudy, metal art-inspired drawings. Skeleton skulls with blood, that sort of thing. He has one comic strip he calls “The Worst Friends You Know” that's quite amusing. The five characters — including a tattooed-guy and a curly-haired guy in a Speedo — are his interpretation of what his friends would look like when they get older. Basile draws the strip for his own enjoyment.

“We have to reel him in every so often,” said an older guy sitting nearby.

The artists are as colorful as a bag of Skittles. Bursts of energy and color spilled onto their pages. They all have different styles, from anime to manga to Hanna-Barbera. Camaraderie is a big part of the group. They swap drawing tips, talk about movies and video games and sip Mountain Dew, the comic artist's preferred drink of choice. It fuels the spurts of conversations and creativity.

They talk about the work of others —what artists they admire, what comics they read, the first guy who drew Batman.

“I never had any friends that were into comics and cartoons, let alone wanted to spend every spare moment talking and creating comics,” said Dougie McCoy. “I walked into the Jam four years ago; after that, (life) was never the same.”

Others share his sentiments. And so do I. I plan to go back.

Contact the writer:

444-1075, j.loza@owh.com

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