Mi último escrito en este newsletter fue en mayo y, si bien me había prometido actualizarlo semana por medio, no había considerado un factor importante: la vida. Estuve dibujando poco desde mi anterior publicación, pero sí estuve ocupado con otras iniciativas así que se me ocurrió inaugurar esta especie de subsección con mini novedades. ¡Arrancamos!
Organizing Ideas
A while back, I published a note on Substack talking about how Obsidian helped me with the graphic novel I introduced to you all in April.
But what is Obsidian? Essentially, it’s a notepad on steroids. It’s a plain-text software that, through various features and plugins, lets you categorize and structure your writing projects. You can download it here, but be warned: you might feel overwhelmed at first. There’s a lot to learn and configure. For me, the key was already having (or at least outlining) my own organizational system—I built mine on the fly, using a writer’s advice as a starting point. I won’t dwell on this too much, but if you’re curious, feel free to message me. Otherwise, stay tuned for a future post where I’ll break down my process.
A Journey Full of Symbolism
These past few months, we took a short trip to Ushuaia—my first time in that southern corner of our country. Beyond the wild landscapes and rugged trekking trails, there was one particular spot calling to me: the famous Lighthouse at the End of the World. And this ties back to my graphic novel, since its working title was, in fact, The Lighthouse at the End of the World.
In my story, the characters converge at a lighthouse they believed abandoned at the edge of the continent, only to find others who’ve reimagined it as a refuge and a site of resistance. The lighthouse symbol resurfaces throughout the pages, but the comic’s title began to fade as another symbol—one that emerged unannounced in Obsidian—took narrative precedence: a garden. What could possibly bloom in a desolate wasteland?
During one of our treks, I spotted a flower pushing through rocks near a lake on an icy, sunlit day. I don’t know if it was fate (if such a thing exists), but something about it moved me. I took it as a good omen for my story.
Stirring Up Memories
Back in Buenos Aires, I settled into my usual routine. One of my favorite weekend activities is my collecting expeditions. As an incurable nostalgia addict, my main hobby is rescuing old sticker albums from my childhood or tracking down promotional items from early-2000s kiosks.
There’s something thrilling about rummaging through boxes of forgotten treasures waiting to be rediscovered—sorting, even restoring them. To me, it’s like recovering fragments of history and bringing them into the present. Maybe that’s why I was able to help my in-laws catalog their extensive collection of records and vinyl.2.
This monumental task got me thinking: Where will all my books, my trinkets, my papers, and my collections end up when I’m gone? Sometimes I dwell on the futility of material things in the grand scheme of the universe. What will a well-worn 1998 sticker album mean compared to the next Big Bang in a thousand years? Probably nothing. But I’m the one living this present moment, and I’m the one brimming with joy when I reconnect with a memory I thought was lost.
A Comic That Travels Through Time
Speaking of lost things, this year unearthed several characters I’d dreamed up in my preteen years. Late last year, I enrolled in a month-long workshop called Comic Mentorship, hosted by La Lejana, hoping to equip myself with just enough tools to develop a comic project.
For a while now, I’ve toyed with the idea of a football-themed comic. But I needed to figure out what I wanted to say through the sport. While wrestling with the why, I also had to settle on the who: Who would drive this story?
Back in my preteen years, I’d invented a fictional football team called Águilas Fútbol Club—and I decided it was time to revisit them for this workshop project. Just like that, these characters stepped back into the present, assuring my younger self that they wouldn’t stay forever abandoned in the damp pages of an old notebook.
The comic will be 22 pages, a self-contained volume, and focuses on the team’s captain during a decisive match. I’ve already outlined each page, complete with dialogue and a final scene. The only thing left is the hard part: actually drawing the panels.
To keep myself motivated, I created fictional documentation to flesh out this world. Taking the workshop’s advice to obsess over my characters, I mocked up magazine covers and photos of key moments in the team’s history. Subscribers, stay tuned—these panels are on their way!
The Lines Yet to Be Drawn
A few topics didn’t make it into this post—the book I’m reading, recent movies, my desk reorganization, and other little things. And right before writing these lines, I even got an exciting collaboration proposal (fingers crossed it comes through!).
Was there anything here that caught your attention? Want to ask me more about any of my projects?
If you made it this far, thank you—from the bottom of my heart. It means the world that you’d take the time to read about me and my work. I’ll see you in the next edition of this newsletter, hopefully with my ideas fully bloomed amid the harsh wasteland we call reality.