I don’t really know, I just draw stuff.
I think my earliest memory is at my grandmother’s place. We were there for vacation and one morning I woke up and lay snoozing in bed while listening to everyone talking in the kitchen. It was this profound feeling of warmth and unity. I love that memory.
At the beginning of Return of the Jedi, it’s like Luke Skywalker’s gone mad. He’s swinging that lightsaber around left and right, slicing here, dicing there–he’s killing up a storm with that thing!
Jabba’s friends and employees have no chance because–finally–Luke is a man!
He started out with a whiny voice, a need to get power converters at Tosche station, and absolutely no lightsaber. My how things change during the course of a trilogy.
I am very protective of my son’s experience of my childhood. When he stumbles across some detail that was shocking, formative, or pivotal to how I related to stories and how they relate to the world I do as subtle a dance as I am capable between revelation and obfuscation. I recognize that this is futile. I do it nonetheless. This was made abundantly clear to me recently on an evening walk.
