It’s late afternoon on a Saturday, and the crowd at Omaha’s Capes Comic Book Lounge has subsided. Just a few comic book fans are loitering. Jeremy Haun, the penciler from such books at Iron Man/Captain America Civil War, Chuck, Two-Face: Year One, to name a few, is quietly sketching a requested zombie. His black-rimmed glasses are nestled on his nose like the Penguin’s monocle etched in the nefarious eye-socket.
He makes it look so easy, nearly effortless as his right hand swiftly makes strokes and squiggles. The storyboard for Haun’s journey to a full-time, bill-paying comic book artist would probably include some “smack!” and “ouch!” moments as he’s taken some set backs, but he never gave up his dream.
Love for Comic Books Began at Young Age
“You can still see the scar,” Haun motions, raising his right-hand. “It’s such a stupid story, I was about five-years-old, and my mom told me to clean up a model clay ship I had built. There was a toothpick on the mast, and I ran my hand right through it. I had surgery, and my grandmother felt really bad for me and brought me comics. She bought every kind she could find. “
As an observer, it’s hard not to extend some sort of reference to bleeding for his art, or that he’s still creating characters that shed blood in the pages throughout the comics. Haun’s work in Berserker is crimson-soaked; in Iron Man/Captain America Civil War the anguish and ferocity is dramatized in a flurry of pain and battle.
After his hand healed, Haun experimented with Silly Putty to transfer pages, and “just started drawing and never stopped,” he said. When he reached junior high, his talent caught teachers’ attention.
“There was a monsters drawing contest,” Haun said, his eyes seemingly tracing back to his younger years with satisfaction. “We had to make these door-size drawings. I drew Jason Voorhees carrying a bloodied head stump.
“I got in trouble. The winner won a day of drawing and snacks and all that stuff. They disqualified me. I was really upset. I raised a stink about it, and the high school teacher was like you have to let him do this. He wanted me to come in once a week and work with him.”
From that point on, Haun continued to practice his skills just as an athlete practiced shooting hoops. The high school art teacher recognized Haun’s talent, but also sought to give the young student an opportunity to foster his natural gift. “I drew no fewer than two hours a day from that point,” Haun said.
Anti-Establishment Art
Haun garnered a full scholarship to Missouri Southern State University; to his dismay, by his junior year they’d confronted him about giving up his “silly drawings.”
“They gave me an ultimatum to stop drawing comics, and conform to (what other students were making for) the Addy awards,” Haun said. He argued comics were a legitimate art form for his dissertation. The school still didn’t agree.
Haun quit college, took on a 40-hour-a-week job and drew a handful of hours each evening honing his art. Two years later he earned a spot with Paradigm comics for 12 issues, and the projects started rolling.
“Most people can’t quantify this line of work,” Haun said, a selfish smirk nearly like the Riddler image he’s created time and time again. “These fanciful ideas about these funny book stories. It comes down to you’re getting paid for your ideas. It’s easier for people to say, ‘no, you need a real job.’ A fallback plan is what you do when you plan to fail.”
Success Story
Haun’s story is still being written – the Joplin resident and native has worked with every major comic book company in the eclectic industry. His blog depicts him holding large Hulk gloves, as if to say, “bring it on” or “he’s a fighter.” It’s accurate. He’s had some setbacks. It’s the quote he leaves at the bottom that leaves its mark –“I’m having the time of my life doing what I love. You can’t ask for more than that!”
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