To Track a Gargantuan

Between the footprints, vast chasms opened up. To tread the Earth with gargantuan talent is to leave lesser men behind. Each step that he took with his art left me worlds behind in my ability to keep up.

I fear that I will never understand the path that Nick Justus takes with his art.

But, then again, maybe it was never intended for me to understand it, any of it. After all, his artistic talent is a gift to not just all of mankind, but a personal journey through the stars of his own imagination, for himself.

I live in a place that is black with stars, a mere pinprick on the multidimensional continuum that is the artistic life of a certain artist who plods along at a snail's pace. With eager fervor, I yearn to witness his newest creation. What torment it is for Nick Justus to not draw more often.

Truly, he is the gander that parades an egg of golden talent, but seldom is the show. What manner of madness is this?!

Yet, in all things, there is purpose. It is hardly Nick Justus' fault that my perception of life's mysteries is so utterly lacking.

On a positive note, when the furnace of Nick Justice's artistic engine does not glow red hot, I busy myself with other matters, with lesser things.

How unfortunate, though, that he seems so disinclined to transition into a forge where supernovae are born. Inside him, entire galaxies and clusters of imaginative art pieces orbit an axis that turns at a rate that I simply can't appreciate.

Art does not flow from his fingertips so much as it drips with methodical denial - denying fans such as I the opportunity to awaken each day with fresh fruit of the artistic kind to consume.

Where Nick Justus is concerned, he keeps close company with Jesus E. Lee, noble hero of Virginia, and recently possessed. This is all good and well, all fine and dandy. But, it makes for a lean portfolio. It makes for sparse picking for those that seek out his latest contribution to the world of art.

What good are blogs and Twitters and Tumblrs, if they are mute with the Plague of the Mime? It is said that silence is golden, but that does not mean that all silence is, therefore, golden. Some silence is like an icepick of cruelty. With each day that new art does not come forth from the tip of his brush or pens, I am stabbed, anew, by the dagger of disappointment.

The harsh, fierce winds of reality blow me off course, into the realms of other artists. The footprints of Nick Justus' art often appear to be few and far between. Thus, I trek through canyons of other men's work. All the while, my eye searches the distant horizon, hoping against hope to catch a glimpse of where this gargantuan stepped last.

And the grand twist of irony in it all is that his laments about being a struggling artist are traceable directly to a healthy lack of appreciation for the true and full measure of his own artistic gift.

One cannot explode upon the scene, if one lights their own gunpowder one grain at a time.

The Fall of the Mighty

 I saw the giant crash to Earth, only to rise again. It was the fall of the mighty, but it was short-lived. For no respite was to be found from from the glory of his brushes and the terror of his pens. It was with an iron fist of ink that he would rule his own destiny.

To rue or to rule?

That was the question, you see. I stand among the favored of mankind, to witness the progression of the artist named Nick Justus.

The Chicago Comic & Entertainment Expo, or as it is more affectionately known, C2E2, did not make place at its table for Mister Justus at its 5th Annual C2E2 Artist Alley.

In his own words, he had applied months ago, only to have his application to be met with a lack of accommodation. Ah, the misfortunes of war in the life of a comic book artist struggling for a place at the table of wider recognition!

Denial or rejection?

As if it matters.

This scene will repeat itself countless times over, for artists the world over. What good can come from embracing the Ritual of Lamentation? That which is done, is done. One less gargantuan will walk in their midst. But, it is hardly the only rainbow to adorn the landscape. The giant need but lift up his eyes, and wipe the clouds of disappointment from his vision, to see the world, anew, once more.

In the months that he waited, where did he labor? What were the fruits of his pens? Where are the treasures of his brushes? In the realm of his own art, for what does a giant wait? What gives a master of his own artistic destiny pause? For that matter, where mastery lies, to whom or to what shall the master enslave himself, and for what gain or for what purpose should such a reversal of roles transpire?

God did not create the Chicago Comic & Entertainment Expo. 'Twas the handiwork of men - of mere men.

Yet, from whence came the God-given talent of Nick Justus? Its origin is not traceable to C2E2, nor to any singular convention, nor even to the sum totality of all of them bedecked in their resplendent glory that they wear with such fragile razor-thinness.

The giant knocked. They did not grant entry. For the love of all that truly matters in this universe, I pose the question - Why does a giant knock?

I dare say that Nick Justus does no one a favor - not his fans, not himself - by placing undue value in a mere denial or a singular rejection, no matter what the source that such emanates from.

Why pander to the markets crafted by the guile of others? C2E2 is but a tiny bubble in the Ocean of Opportunity that is the reality that God lay before this artist of whom I speak. The minions of C2E2 hold sway over their tiny realm, but nowhere else. Neither justice nor Justus shall be served, by tangling one's own self in the vines of despair that such events frequent upon artists with hopes, and dreams, and aspirations.

Disappointment has a way of crashing through the roof onto our heads. But, it is intangible, and only has substance to injure us with, if we are so utterly foolish as to place undue value in it, to begin with.

If God had wanted Nick Justus to fail, then He would not have lit the fire of artistic greatness within him.

To become entangled in vines is a far cry from suffering actual defeat. The giant rises, for such falls are short-lived, and as his Promethean eye will look back upon it from one day in the future, this event will seem so small as to have never even existed, at all.

For all that the giant sees is small, though thorns prick and falls hurt. For even giants may feel pain. It is so, that all of the creatures in God's Creation may know that they live, even still.

It is through a small set of eyes that I behold this giant, this behemoth of inking might. Through the dust and debris of the fall, I see the giant stir, once more.

Behold, how the mighty have fallen!

Behold, how the mighty rise, anew!

The sun shines through. The day is new.

The giant, if anything, looms bigger than before!

The Colossus Called Justus

And in the days of men, there cometh giants. Mighty are they, these that men call artists. In the midst of them all strode the colossus called Justus. Promethean was his eye. His gaze knew no end.

The meek shall inherit the earth. It is from their future inheritance that I write these words.

It is treachery of the worst, most foul kind for an artist to not ply their trade. It is a sin for Nick Justus to not draw. It is a crime of the soul for his pen to run dry of ink.

To gather curves and lines and squiggles on a page, and to transform them into Jesus E. Lee flying through the air with a giant fist rushing right at you, is a gigantic feat, to be certain - one worthy of accolades and praise.

What a pity it is that the canvas upon which such a work of art took life proved to be so small. How even worse it is that the Promethean does not take us to visit his castle in the sky of artistic inspiration.

Even if he did, though, could any of us see what he sees? How could we, if we cannot see as he sees?

This blog, still in a state of relative infancy, struggles to find the right path, to strike the right balance. How best to pay tribute to this man called Justus, to this giant amongst giants, to this artist who has yet to reveal his very best unto a world that laments the passing of each new day in which no new art emanates from his hand?

He clenches his pens. He wields his weapons of choice. He aims to win this War of the Giants!

As Galactus has his herald, so, too, should Nick Justus. May the Harbingers of His Art to Come be many! May they fill the skies of the Internet, and may Nick Justus lay waste to the imaginations of those like I, of those who dare to pretend that we can envision only that which a true giant may see.

The Path of Patience is a long and arduous trek. It is the path that I take each day, as I weave and wind through the passage of time to behold the next artistic monument crafted by the Hand of Justus.

Even still, I must wait - we must wait - anew.

The giants of this realm move at their own pace, plodding along - until they choose to strike! The artistic meek of this world are powerless to stand in their way. We part before them, as they weave their artistic magics and craft their imaginative handiwork. Powerless, I say!

The world has art. What need has it of blogs? Verily, I say unto you, both one and all, that giants live and thrive in the words that dot the landscape of the communications of men. Our legends and our lore are replete with mention of they and their kind.

The world of men can never have too much legend and lore. We can never have too many giants. There are far worse fates reserved for men than to rouse artistic giants the like of Nick Justus from their slumber.

In our hearts, live many giants. In our memories, giants populate our thoughts. It should come as no surprise to anyone, then, that giants rule the world of our art. It is a fact of life. It has long been a staple of our existence. Ever and always shall it remain that way.

Our Creator is an artist, the likes of which no man may match, the likes of which even giants may not approach.

The gift of art that our Creator saw fit to bestow upon Nick Justus was crafted by The Divine, just and only for him. It fits Nick Justus like a glove. Inside that glove is a fist - a giant fist of artistic talent that hasn't even yet begun to whale upon the world.

As Nick Justus continues to wrestle with the artistic blessings that permeate every fiber of his existence, in order to be the man, he's got to beat the man.

The only thing holding Nick Justus back is a single man - namely, himself.

Giants of considerable artistic strength enter the fray, every day. They compete with one another, with their impressive feats of artistic strength, unceasingly and without end.

Even giants, much like lesser men, must know when to strike.

The iron is hot. The time is right. The hour of reckoning fast approaches.

That's why this is the Age of Justus!

To Wield the Lightning!

And the evening and the morning were the art of Nick Justus.

The artistic resurrection of Nick Justus is well underway. What better way to ring in the Age of Justus than with an artist who has gathered new-found energies unto himself, and who has recommitted himself to building an artistic legacy of lasting proportions.

In other words, Nick Justus is back!

Even now, he begins to lay the artistic foundation stones of what shall in time no doubt become a citadel of artistic expression. Behold, Nick Justus Art - a Tumblr site that is brand spanking new! From lesser beginnings, Orthanc sprang! And who better to occupy this new tower of artistic magic than this true wizard of inking prowess, Nick Justus?

Over on the Nick Justus Imagination Station, Nick's nimble fingers begin to work like orcs on his blog, once more. Life stirs anew in this old place, steeped in his musings from bygone days.

Bit by bit, his activity is picking up, and art is beginning to flow outward from him, once more. There's simply too much skill and talent residing within him to allow it to wither and rot on the vine. I, for one, am glad to see Nick Justus take up the gauntlet, once again, in order that he might forge for himself and his fans a bigger, brighter, and better artistic future.

 For any artist, the only real way to go is forward. The Divine Hand of Providence always nudges us forward, in spite of both our own selves and the routine drudgery of everyday existence. From the storms of life, which are without number or end, art is a positive respite for Nick Justus - and a boon to his fans!

And just as Thor wields Mjölnir, so also does Nick Justus wield his own magic hammers - the tools of his trade as an artist. In his inking, great is the thunder that sounds in the wake of his art passing through.

As a fan, I hear the thunder. As the artist, Nick Justus wields the lightning. It is together that we take the journey, but only if he allows it to be so. For, it is his vision that lights the way for our steps down the path into his artistic future.

The path of the artist can be a lonely route to trek, for fans can be slow to gather, and they tend to linger afar off in the distance. In the ethereal realm of art, artists duel with one another for the favor of a fickle fandom. It is from the public masses that each artist's legions are drawn. Those of us who are not artists might as well be watching angels and demons war upon one another - for all we can do is watch. To be an artist, you see, is to be imbued with the gift of vision from God on high. To be a fan, the artists that you favor are your champions in this eternal war without end.

To wield the lightning that is an artistic touch is to be gifted with prowess and magic and the key to all of human imagination. To raise pen or pencil to draw is to raise the sword, to wield the hammer, to turn the key.

Many are the things and the issues and the problems that assail us in everyday life. God saw fit to give Nick Justus an option - a way out of that darkness. He also imbued Nick Justus with free will, and the option to choose whether to unsheathe that sword and to lift that hammer.

As a fan, I am powerless to draw Nick Justus' art for him. Indeed, that would be tantamount to infringing upon his destiny, even if I knew where to truly begin, which I don't.

So, as the characters in Nick Justus' comic books play their respective roles in the stories that he weaves with his art and his lettering, likewise, I am relegated to my role as the fan, rather than as the artist.

As the turn of the pages reveal the story of his characters and their actions, I watch from afar, which is really no different than watching Nick Justus' career as an artist unfold. It's always one issue at a time, one page at a time, one panel at a time.

DC Editor, Bobbi Chase, reviewing the art portfolio of Nick Justus.

So, the next time that Nick Justus wonders why he can't quite seem to get ahead, it's because that particular page in his life has not quite turned, yet. Patience is a virtue for a reason, probably for many reasons.

The world is a big, big place. There's plenty of room in it for the art of Nick Justus.

Godspeed to Nick Justus! I wish the man well.

Of Resurrection and Damnation and the Lady in Waiting

And shall come forth; they that are damned, unto the resurrection of life, unto a new age, the Age of Justus.

I'm pretty sure that's Nick Justus, in that image over on the left hand side. Now, don't misunderstand. It's not art BY Nick Justus, as in art rendered by his own hand. Rather, it is art OF Nick Justus, rendered by the hand of a friend and fellow Kubert School classmate of his, Gavin Smith, of the previously mentioned Four Horsemen fame.

To see the big picture, to behold the revelation of Nick's place in the greater scheme of things, where Gavin's particular art piece in question is concerned, one must be prepared to trek unto the Realm of the Gavin. You seek a place called Human City. Specifically, your destination is the image found here.

Nick Justus can probably relate to what it feels like to be a zombie. Or, as the term is more popularly referred to, these days, a walker. Life has its way of gripping us - of squeezing the life out of us. What we are left with, in those moments, is the tangible essence of mere existence.

Which is all the more reason why Nick Justus should - and must - seek release from the iron grip of life's everyday, ordinary, mind-numbing routine and ritual through his art.

While Nick Justus' artistic creations of Jesus E. Lee and Dick Fistus have been battling zombies (amongst other things) in his comic book creation, the Jesus E. Lee series, there's more than just a little poetic justice captured in Gavin Smith's decision to render Nick Justice and their Kubert School compatriots in zombie form.

Unlike how things work out in The Walking Dead television series (which I happen to be a fan of, by the way), in real life, whether we "turn" or not is ultimately dependent upon our own decision-making process as an individual. As a fan, I have no vested interest in Nick Justus ever choosing to allow the humdrummery of life to get the best of him, nor in him choosing to allow the never-ending drone of reality's dull edge to usurp his vigor for creating art from him.

A blank canvas or a blank sheet of paper poses a challenge to the artist. On countless occasions, Nick Justus has risen to the occasion, the occasion of converting blank space into something beautiful - into tangible works of actual art.

Thus, from out of nothing has Nick Justus proven himself to be a master of creating something - something of value, something of artistic worth. The Master Artist, our Creator, has given life unto each of us, breathing our souls into us like so much blown glass. All too often, it is tempting to give place to the comfort that a boring existence seeks to entice us to embrace. Life has a way of seeming almost meaningless, in the process, when we surrender to such temptations.

Yet, through his veins flow vigor and force and energy, this Nick Justus fellow. Like Doctor Strange or Doctor Fate, this resident artist-in-admiration must channel the sum totality of all of his talent and skill and ability, of all that he has ever learned, into his love for the art that he creates. Art is ever his eternal lady in waiting. He casts furtive glances, even as he often contents himself to ignore her. Yet, his muse incarnate, ever she awaits.

She awaits the touch that is only his to give. His art is a gift to the world, but more importantly, a gift to himself. Wrought by the creative Hand of God, Himself, Nick Justus' talent - his innate artistic talent - is something that he should exult in, at every available moment, at every available opportunity.

Verily, I say unto you, which is greater? The masterpiece? Or the master which creates it?

And so it is with Nick Justus and his art.

Art is his resurrection unto life. Mundane existence does not befit him.

The Book of Nick

And I saw, and behold a dark horse, and his name that sat on him was Justus. And there was given unto him a great pen.

The Four Horsemen

What better place to start, than some place other than the beginning? That's Nick Justus, over on the right hand side of this photo encountered on Anthony Marques Tumblr site. Now, whether the reference posted thereon alludes to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse or to the Four Horsemen of professional wrestling fame, either way, the title of Horseman was already conferred upon Nick Justus, ere I ever encountered him or his artwork.

A Horseman this way rides, or more accurately, it is his art that rides this way, riding aboard the Internet and finding its way to me. It is fitting, indeed, that a title of this notoriety should likewise find its way to this man who is Nick Justus, and delivered by those who know him better than myself.

Recognize.

It was through Nick Justus that I encountered the artwork of the other three Horsemen pictured above - Anthony Marques, Craig C. Cermak II, and Gavin Smith.

What's in that book that Nick Justus has in front of him, in the photo above? Only the Shadow knows - the Shadow and Nick Justus, himself, no doubt. Is there an accounting for which individual pieces of art that this book, in question, contains? Is that the Nick Justus Art Bible? Or, does such a thing exist?

What masterpieces remain to be seen by the eyes of men, both from the future yet to come, and from the past that remain unrevealed and still sealed from fans such as I?

And will the Age of Justus herald in a closer peek at that book - The Book of Nick?

The Dawning of a New Age - The Age of Justus

And in the Thirteenth Year, God said, "Let there be Justus!" And a new age dawned. And the morning and the evening were the Twentieth Day of the Thirteenth Year of the Second Millennium, as counted by the Scribes of the Digital Disciples, and as foretold by the Prophets of Print.

That's one recounting of it, anyway.

Because the world is full of injustice, and because true justice only emanates from God and not man, that leaves only Justus - Nick Justus.

To be certain, this blog is not about religion. Nick Justus' art is not a religious experience. It's not even about souls - though it is about soulful. Soulful talent.

The artistic talent of a one Nick Justus - an individual that God, in His infinite wisdom, saw fit to bestow the gift of artistry on.

Fast forward to the present day, and we find that this artistic scion of Dillwyn, Virginia has trekked to the state that bears his initials, NJ. That's right, fans-to-be and fans-that-shall-come-lately, I'm talking about none other than the Garden State, New Jersey.

With the original Garden of Eden having been corrupted by the sins of our forebears, Adam and Eve, that left our resident artist-in-admiration with little choice but to carve out a new Eden of his own. Thus did a Son of the South become a Son of the North. The one. The same. Nick Justus.

Certified publicly on his very own Facebook page as what he, himself, described as his "one fan," we ever are true and devout fans of the talent, skill, and techniques that stand self-evident in the artistic renderings of this very same Nick Justus.

Why refer to myself as "fans" and "we," if I am but one person? Verily, I say unto thee, "We are fans - me, myself, and I."

Because, sometimes, being a fan just isn't good enough!

And that's the way that it is with Nick Justus' art. I just can't get enough. I'm always wanting more. And Nick Justus is just too damned good at what he does to not have fans with fervor.

Know, one and all, that you stand invited to join me on this journey, on this trek toward Justus, on this blog across the great artistic landscape that flows forth from the man whose God-given talents and artistic accomplishments inspired a need within me to pay tribute where tribute is due.

Welcome to the dawning of a new age - The Age of Justus!