SPECIAL ISSUE - 6 INTERVIEWS by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2006 written on December 17th 1994 translated by the author English text kindly revised by John
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"SPECIAL ISSUE - 6 INTERVIEWS" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
SECOND
The second interview of this issue is dedicated to a famous comic strip cartoonist. As our readers will remember, we have had the pleasure of publishing several gay comic strips on our pages. This cartoonist's cartoons were a great success. We are talking about...
ENZO FANTINI Comic strip cartoonist - Italy
Q. Hi, Enzo, thank you for giving us this interview that our readers have been wanting for so long. Before all the professional questions - why are your strips signed E.E.&E.? One of the E's is you, Enzo, but the other two?
A. You told me that you wanted to interview me about my being gay and how I became aware of it and lived it. It is all in these three E's, therefore, if I explain their meaning to you, our interview will be over...
Q. Yes, I see. Let's start from another point then. You are probably, in the same league as Tom of Finland, the most famous gay comic strip cartoonist in the world...
A. Thank you for the compliment. Thank you to put me together with the great artist, Tom. I don't deserve so much. But now, a clarification. I am not a gay comic strip cartoonist, I am a comic strip cartoonist and I am gay. Amongst my stories there are some gay stories, and the fact that, for instance, your magazine publishes just this kind, is another subject. The E.E.& E. produces something like ten comic serials (ten different stories, with follow up) besides about forty single stories each year. Of those about ten per cent is with an exclusively gay subject.
Q. Yes, you are right. But coming back to Tom, your style is fundamentally different from his...
A. Yes, Tom had a... dreamlike vision of the gay world, I have a realistic one. Not so much in the stories themselves, as at times our stories are somewhat on fairytale style, but about the way of representing, drawing them. I have a great, sincere admiration for Tom drawings, but I like to present characters in which everybody can identify themselves.
Q. But your all characters have fine bodies, handsome faces.
A. Yes, sure, but are real. In movies the heroes are usually handsome too, are not they? In my comics are as well, however there are some few exceptions.
Q. Are you talking about Mark Trevis?
A. About him and others. But nobody, as ugly as he could be, will recognize himself in an ugly character - each one of us has one ideal image of his own self. But, even if embellished, anyone can recognize himself in a body not like a "mister universe" and with a penis of average size. Those of Tom are so big, when unsheathed, that one wonders before opening his fly where the guy was holding it. And this is not a problem, is even good, because that of Tom is a dreamlike world. But that is not what interested me.
Q. Let's shift now to your life...
A. Good. My parents are unknown. As soon as I was born I was given up to an orphanage. Given up... that doesn't tell any moral judgment on my parents, for they must have had their problems, to do so. I don't know who they are, if they know I am their son, if they are still alive. I don't judge them. Anyway, I grew up in an orphanage. Nothing traumatic. The sisters were nice, likeable and brought us up in a fine way, and with real affection. So, nothing to complain of. Then, when I was eleven, I was adopted by a family - he was thirty four, she was thirty and a son of fifteen. Yes, they married young. A middle class family, beautiful house, housekeeper every morning. A room all for myself, fine clothes, the best schools. As they are all still alive, I can't tell you their real names, so let's say he was Aldo, she was Betty and the son was Carlo. I have to make clear that my family name is not that of the family who adopted me.
First days - am shy, but feel all right. They are kind, nice. Aldo, during the day time, works in his business, we see him only on the evenings after seven 'o clock. But he stays with his family, talks, is interested in his wife, his son and now also in me. Betty in the mornings is at home, so she directs the housekeeper for her job, some times she goes out to go to her hairdresser or for some special purchases. Then, after lunch she goes out every day, between two and six thirty, as with other ladies she organizes a women's culture center. Carlo attends the classic high school, goes out every morning at eight and is back every day at one 'o clock, besides Wednesday when has his P.E. class and then comes back at three o'clock. About me, I attending the first class of the middle school and have practically the same schedule as Carlo, and my school is attached to that of Carlo, the best in the city, managed by the Jesuit Fathers. I am back at three on the Tuesdays, because of P.E. Therefore, at one o'clock we eat lunch, Betty, Carlo and I. We have dinner at seven thirty. I hit my bed at ten thirty and Carlo, being older, at eleven thirty. The couple at half past midnight...
Q. But... what's that, a house regulated by the clock?
A. Yes, you hit the crux of the problem. In fact it is nothing but the clock that flunked me. But let's proceed in order. Carlo is exemplary boy, the pride of Dad and Mum, the favorite of the Jesuit Fathers. A churchgoer like his parents. On Sundays he always serves mass and he member of Catholic Action. He at school always gets wonderful marks and has lot of friends. Aldo is a member of the Association of Parents and Teachers of Italian Catholic Schools and is its regional representative. Oddly, Betty is not a member of any catholic association. Me neither.
Q. Has it something to do all this underlining of Catholicism of your adoptive family with the fact that you are gay? The Catholic Church has never been tender with us, at least officially.
A. No, not directly. But let me proceed in order, you always get ahead of the... plot! (laughs)
Well, then, each afternoon, from Monday to Friday, from two to six thirty, Carlo and I are always alone at home, apart from Tuesdays and Wednesdays when we are at home at three. We study, of course. With an authorized (and respected) break between three forty five and four forty five, to eat a snack and to play. Carlo steps never out of line, imagine me, the late comer. I soon adjust to the rhythm. It fits me, as I like studying and, ever since I can recall, drawing.
I am in my new family for about a month. Afternoon. Break. Snack. Playtime.
Carlo tells me: "Today, Enzo, I'll teach you a new game. You'll see, you'll like it."
"What's that?" I ask interested.
"Come upstairs, to the playroom." I follow him. He says: "Let's play Indians."
"All right."
"I have here the costumes. Let's undress and wear them."
I like that. The costumes are really beautiful. I soon am wearing just my briefs and am slipping on the leather breeches, when Carlo starts laughing. I look at him amazed. "Indians didn't wear briefs, come on! Pull them off!"
"No, I'm ashamed." I say.
"Don't be silly! What shame could be between us? We are brothers, now, aren't we?" he says and in fact he slips out of them and is stark naked.
I am ashamed even just to look at him, but I don't know how to object, so I comply and put on the breeches (you know the kind with two separated legs) and put over the rectangles which covers the genitals and the butt. My embarrassment gone, now, I'm waiting for him to explain me how we will play. Carlo, in his costume, is ready. He sketches out a story - we are from two enemy tribes, he challenges me, we fight, he wins, ties me to the torture pole, but then he is touched by my bravery, so he frees me and we become friends. I like it. We act the parts. To make short a long story, until he ties me like a salami, I'm really amused. But at this point Carlo pulls out the cloth rectangle covering my front and back.
"What are you doing!" I say, alarmed, blushing.
"I have to torture you now, of course." he quietly says.
And he starts to masturbate me! Well it's not so bad as a torture, I think, even if I feel really ashamed. But then he pulls out his two rectangles, and I see he has an incredible hard-on! He turns me, rummages with his fingers and something slippery in my hole, telling me that the real torture will start soon... and he fills my hole with his hard thing. It hurts, I yell, cry, but what can I do? There is nobody at home, and I'm tied skillfully so that I cannot resist him. He fucks me. Gradually I stop crying, anyway it is useless. He rocks on top of me pretending to still play the angry Indian warrior's part, until he comes inside me. And finally he pulls out.
"You have been a valiant warrior. I like you!" he solemnly declares, turning me back.
"You hurt me!" I protest angry and full of shame.
"Of course, I had to torture you, right?"
"But that wasn't just a game?"
"Clearly it was. I didn't lash you, put nails under your fingers, cut your skin! Did I?"
"But you put your thing inside me and it hurt."
"Are you wounded? Are you bleeding? Are you dead? No. You're not starting to whimper, now, just for a game."
"But it hurt..." I insisted, pouting.
"Eh, it will soon pass."
"Untie me..."
"Later. Now you have to promise me eternal loyalty, don't you? Have you already forgotten? After, I'll untie you, so we can celebrate the Indian rite of friendship."
"Yes, I swear you eternal loyalty. Untie me, come on!"
"Do you swear it on your head?"
"Sure..." I say, as I want to be untied.
And he unties me. I am about adjust the two cloth rectangles to cover myself, but he says: "No, not yet, wait - before the Indian rite of friendship, I for you and you for me."
"All right, I for you and you for me."
"No, not so! While we say these words, we have to hold in our hands the other warrior's dick. So..."
Well, finally we change back to our normal clothes. He praises me a lot, that I play fair, that I'm really good, that we will again have fun in this way...
"But I didn't really like this game!" I protest.
"Just because it is your first time. You'll see, you'll get used to it and you'll like it a lot."
"No, I don't want to play such games any more."
Carlo's face changes and he verbally assaults me: "What? We maintain you, we feed you, give you shelter, fine clothes, we spend a lot of money for you and you behave so selfishly? I'll tell Dad and Mum, and you'll see... Dad seldom uses his belt, but this time... this will really hurt you, made you bleed!"
I am terrorized, I believe him. Conclusion, each afternoon, between four and four thirty, from Monday to Friday, Carlo fucks my ass. And we don't need any more the Indian customs. He makes me undress in the drawing room, makes me crouch, my ass up, on the arm chair, kneels behind me and fucks my ass. But he is right, little by little I get used to it, it doesn't hurt any more. How do I react? Nothing - it is something like paying the rent. I would rather not have to, but...
Q. A rather brusque and unpleasant initiation.
A. Yes, but then it became routine, and it becomes just boring.
Q. Didn't you feel some pleasure too?
A. I was eleven year old. I started to feel some pleasure when I was approaching my puberty, that is around thirteen years.
Q. You mean that Carlo sodomized you for two years?
A. No, for three years, that is until he was eighteen and I was fourteen. At that point I was hating Carlo, but at the same time I liked also feeling his tool inside me... funny, isn't it?
Q. And why did Carlo stop?
A, He didn't really stop. I was fourteen, Betty was on a cruise with the ladies of her association. At home were only Aldo, Carlo and I. One night I was woken up. It was Aldo. Sleepy, I ask him what was up.
"Talk quietly, don't wake Carlo up. I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd stay a while with you. But here Carlo can hear us. Come into my room."
He takes me into his bedroom. He makes me lie at his side. He talks. He says that he really likes me a lot. He caresses me. He tells me that he feels so lonely. And he pulls it out of his pajamas - it seems so huge to me! O my god, I think scared, even the father now? But he doesn't want my little ass, no. He asks me to suck it. And later, after an endless time, he is finally near coming, he orders me to drink it all because "I don't want to soil the sheets" he says and his tone doesn't admit objections.
Q. Even the father!
A. Right. And the next night also, and the following also. So, at afternoons the son and at nights the father. So, I decide to run away. The best moment is Wednesday afternoon between two and three. So, as soon as Betty (who meanwhile was back from her cruise) goes out and before Carlo is back home, I put in my school bag a change of clothes, my small savings (we received a monthly sum, from our exemplary parents) something to eat, and ran away. Headlong to the train station. I buy a ticket, take a train. I go to Milan, the city is big, there are a lot of people, they will not find me.
Q. But what were you planning to do in Milan? You were a minor, without experience, money, home, friends...
A. I was foolhardy. I just thought about running away. I toured the city all the day long - I liked Milan. I nibbled a little of the food. Then, on the night, I went to sleep in the park near the Castle. Luckily, the weather was fine. The day after, like on the day before. At night again in the park thinking to sleep where I slept the previous night, and where I left a cardboard box I used as a mattress, behind a bush. It was no longer there. So I decide to go to look around for another one. While I'm roaming in the park, I come across a young man. He says hello to me. I answer back.
"What's your name?"
"Renzo." I say.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing..."
"Are you waiting for somebody?"
"No..."
"Then, we can chat a while... May I offer you something?"
"Yes, thank you." I feel a little hungry and the young man seems a kind person.
He takes me to a bar. He observes me while I eat the roll sandwich I asked for.
"You are hungry, aren't you!" he says. I nod. "Were do you live?"
"Near the station." I lie.
Well, we go out, we chat.
He says: "Come to my car, I'll give you a ride."
Why not, I think, I like that man. He starts a queer speech, a long beating around the bush, and at the end he says: "I like you so much. How old are you?"
"Sixteen." I lie.
"Good..." he says. "Will you come up to my home? Is your family waiting for you?"
"No..." I say.
His home. More words, compliments, then in a friendly way, his arm around my shoulders, then his hand on my thigh... Until I understand where he is after. I like him, so I let him do it. With him, I think inside me, I can also do those things, he is nice... In a short while we are on his bed, naked. He caresses me, he kisses me - it is really pleasurable. So, without him asking anything, I first do for him what Aldo always wanted from me, then I let him do what Carlo always did to me... And I like everything very much. He is so delicate, so tender, and he makes me enjoy at least as much as he is enjoying me.
Then he asks me: "Do you want me see you to your home?"
I say: "Let me sleep here with you, please. I told you a lie, I don't live here in Milan. I can also not to go back home, tonight, I can stay out."
He lets me sleep with him.
The next morning he wakes me up, makes me take a shower, fixes me an abundant breakfast, then he says: "I have to go to work now... can we meet again, this evening?"
"Yes, sure. Where? At what time?" I ask, happy and merry.
We meet again that evening. We make love again and I spend again the night with him. A new date. I like him more and more. Really that young man knows how to make love. I don't feel exploited, used by him. I think that I want to stay with him forever.
We meet the third time. He makes me go with him in his car, but he doesn't take me to his home. He takes me out of the town. He stops in the countryside, under a lonely street lamp. I don't understand.
He explains me: "Your name is not Renzo, but Enzo, you are not sixteen, but fourteen and half..."
I feel dead - how could he discover so easily the truth? But the worst has still to come - he knows that I ran away from home, and that my family is looking for me.
"How can you know all this?" I ask, half astounded, half scared.
"You see, I am a bartender right in front of the police station. There is your picture. Your family is looking for you, there is also a reward..."
So, I tell him all my story and I beg him not to take me to the police, not to force me to go back in that house. "With you it's different, I like it with you. But I don't want to go back there. Please. Let me stay with you. Please..."
He keeps silent for a long while, than says: "All right, I will not take you to the police. But I cannot take you with me..."
"But why? You said you liked me..."
"So very much. But you are a minor, don't you understand? The Police are looking for you. And if they discover I had sex with you, who are less than sixteen year old, I am nailed down. Therefore... I'll take you back downtown, if you like, but we can not meet any more. And if by chance they find you, you have to swear me that you'll say absolutely nothing about me..."
I'm sad, but I swear, before leaving him, I want make love with him one last time, but he doesn't want to. "I really believed you were sixteen. Before that age, even if you'll say you were willing, I will end in a prison, for years." he excuses himself.
He leaves me near the station. I see him going away. I feel a great desire to cry...
Q. Therefore, we can say that it is thanks to this encounter that you understood you are gay.
A. Not exactly. On one side, if we talk about the physical pleasure in the relation with a man, I already felt it with Carlo. On the other side, if you mean the awareness of a belonging, at that time I didn't even know that the word gay existed, and even less all the problems connected with that word.
Q. And yet, at least from your school mates, you must have heard the word faggot and all the contempt with which it is used...
A. Yes, certainly, even if they used the word poof... but it was just a word, like we said "smartie" - we said "That boy is a smartie" and we admired him, but it didn't exist as a category, the class of the smarties... at least, so it was how I perceived it. So, we didn't think that there was a category of the poof. Rather, I can say that it was the first time I fell in love. That young man, who must have been around twenty five year old, gave me, besides an incredible physical pleasure, affection, tenderness, and I had an incredible need for it, and I would have liked to be able to cling to him.
Q. I see. Therefore, together with your first falling in love, your first disappointment...
A. Right. But where we were? Ah, I am at the Central Station. The young man (do you know that I don't even remember his name?) when he left me, gave me some money. It was now night. I wander around, not knowing what to do. A boy two or three years older than me, after seeing me pass three of four times, stops me, and buttonholes me. Who am I, what I'm doing, what am I looking for... On instinct, I feel I can trust him so I tell him in outline my story. He is a hustler. He tells me "To earn a living, you can hustle. For the first times you can also come to sleep in my room." He explains me the tricks to hustle, the usual prices, where I can stay (each boy there has more or less his personal work area) and he gives me an appointment between one and two in the morning, to take me to his place. So I start hustling. To tell the truth I do that just for a few months. In that period I live in Gino's home, the hustler I met, and we share the expenses. I like Gino. He did the job more or less since fourteen, my age. He too is a runaway, but now he is of age, he doesn't fear any more to be caught and sent back to his family.
When I am fifteen, I meet Dario. He likes me, I like him. Dario is twenty five year old, he is a comic strip cartoonist, he lives alone. After a few times we meet, he proposes for me to go to live with him. I accept at once. Dario fascinates me, for his personality, for what he does as a job, and for the way he makes love with me. And I fall in love with him. You can say I fall easily in love... (laughs). At first all goes nicely and, thanks to him, I start again to draw and learn the comic strips technique. Therefore I owe him very much. He maintains me, so I don't need any more hustling. In exchange I keep his house clean, do his shopping, laundry, cook his food - I like the idea of taking care of him. But to Dario, I am only the work boy, and the sex is included as part of work. So at times he comes home with a boy, they shut themselves in his bedroom, they make love. And I, in my little bedroom, feel I'm dying with jealousy. What need does he have of other boys? I'm here, ready, am not I? And it is not that he doesn't like making love with me, how I make love with him. I try to make him understand my reasons, but he laughs and says that of course he likes me a lot, but that he cannot eat just the everyday soup. I am the main course, but he needs also to have side dishes, the wine... do I understand this, or it will be better for me to find a different solution. He tells me that clearly, without disputing, almost kindly, but clearly. I decide to remain with him, to resign myself.
Until one day when one of his friends comes to look for him. I know his friends, but this is the first time I see this one. I made him come in and tell him to wait for Dario. We chat. He is really likeable. His name is Edoardo, he is three years older than me, that is he is twenty. After a while he asks me if I am Dario's boyfriend.
"I don't know..." I answer.
He bursts in laughter and asks me what I mean. So I explain him my situation. Dario is late and our conversation continues. I tell him my whole story. He listens carefully, sharing... I can feel his human warmth. And I feel he likes me. Dario comes. We chat together. Edoardo stays for supper with us. And I feel I like Edoardo a lot.
Q. Again falling in love?"
A. Yes, but not love at first sight. Gradual. He comes back and we meet again. And I understand he is coming also to see me. I like him more and more, and he does too. And one afternoon he comes - he knows that Dario is busy until late evening. He came for me. I tell him I like him, I make him understand that I desire him. We make love. I feel like I am in paradise. I never felt so good with anybody as with him - he is hot, gentle, passionate, tender, strong... He visits again when he knows that Dario is not home, and we make love and we like each other more and more. I don't feel guilty towards Dario - doesn't he behave even worst than me? After all for me it is the first time I cheat on him, and just with one, not with many.
Until a day Edoardo asks me to leave Dario, to become his boyfriend. He is in love with me. I feel deeply stirred - I too am in love with him! But, I tell him, I have first to find a job, I am not able to maintain myself.
He says "I am rich, really rich. There is no problem. You will look for a job when you'll be of age, if you want. For the moment, let me provide to you." Edoardo still lives with his family. His parents know he is gay, but he cannot take me in his family home. So he decide to rent a bed-sitting room for me. When he finds it, I leave Dario and move there. He takes his university books there, so he can come there to study and we spend hours together, not just to make love. To pass time, I start again to draw comic strips. Edoardo sees them and finds them good. So he proposes me to attend a private course of anatomical drawing to improve my style. I feel so wonderful with Edoardo, he is really intelligent, good hearted, thoughtful. He made me miss nothing. And he loves me.
Edoardo is not really a beautiful man. That is, he is handsome, yes, but more than beautiful, he is really sexy. And, although he really maintains me, he doesn't make me feel a kept boy. Our love is quiet, but not for that less strong and beautiful. Edoardo is a quiet type.
When I become eighteen, he throws a party for me. He calls it the "Liberation Day Party", in fact I have now no need to be afraid of being found by the police. All his (ours) friends come. Dario also came, in fact I maintained a good relationship with him.
In this occasion Dario sees my comic strips and how I have improved, and he praises me. He proposes me to introduce me to his editor. So I get my first job. Edoardo is proud of me. He pushes me to do better and better. He finds me more graphic teachers. I become really skilled. I start to sell my comics well. Even Dario admits that I surpassed him.
I start to sell my comic stories also abroad and to earn good money. With Edoardo we decide to rent a real apartment. He decides to leave his family and to come to live with me. I am happy. A beautiful home, a job I love, a delicious lover. I feel complete.
When I am twenty one, a stroke of luck - from Los Angeles they ask me to organize a personal show of my comic strips and stories, in great style. I accept. So, together with Edoardo, we go to the States to prepare for my exhibit. I am really busy for the preparation, the contacts, a thousand things. Edoardo uses that period to go to visit the West Coast that he doesn't yet know. The exhibition's organization assigns me a boy as assistant, also for the language problems (at that time I wasn't able to speak English). His name is Everett, he is nineteen year old and speaks Italian rather fluently, as he studied it in school.
Everett (Evy) is gay and is a boy of an incredible beauty - the real prototype of my stories heroes. We spend full days together, preparing everything for the opening day. We fit really well together, he is really likeable and there is a strong understanding between us. Each evening he takes me back to my hotel, comes upstairs with me and we fix the schedule for the next day... and one evening it happens. He knows I am Edoardo's lover, he would never have dared to take the first step. It's me that takes it, I like that boy too much. In my mind, after all, it is just an adventure, I think... anyway it turns out to be more than pleasurable, in bed, he is a bomb!
After that first time, there are many encores, with enormous reciprocal pleasure, and I feel more and more attracted by him. And I am upset - I love Edoardo, I really love him, but I like Evy to die for.
When Edoardo comes back, I feel I have to tell him everything. He is splendid, really sweet. He tells me that he can understand me. For the little he saw Evy, he finds him a delicious boy. He tells me that he is not jealous, as I told him I continue to be really in love with him... then Edoardo leaves again. Sure I love Edoardo, but I become aware that the relation with Evy is becoming more and more a serious thing. Also because I start to know he is falling in love with me. Therefore I decide to talk with Evy. I tell him that it is possibly better if we stop making love. He is pained, he asks me why.
"Because I can't and don't want to leave Edoardo, I love him. But we two are falling in love. It would become an untenable situation. And then, the day after tomorrow there will be the great opening. And this means that in ten days I will go back to Italy. Anyway it will have an end..."
"Take me with you in Italy..." he begs, "I am in love with you, I can't renounce to you..."
"But I can't renounce Edoardo."
"I didn't ask you to." he says.
I feel lost, almost ensnared, I don't know any more what to do. I don't want to renounce Edoardo, but I would like not to renounce Evy. That evening Edoardo is back and I talk again with him.
He doesn't know what to say, what advise he can give me: "I am part in cause, do you understand? I don't want to lose you, but I don't want either make you feel sad..."
Evy, unexpectedly, comes back to the hotel and comes to see us. He wants to talk with Edoardo. A strange conversation between the three of us starts. We stay up all the night long.
At a certain point Evy says to Edoardo: "I like you, and I think you too like me."
"That's true." Edoardo admits.
"Therefore... why not stay as three?"
I look at him astounded, and tell it is not possible. Edoardo seems hesitant. We discuss more. And I end up yielding. It is dawn when we three end in a bed and start making love. I thought it would have been embarrassing, that tensions would rise, that... and instead it is something incredibly beautiful, for all of us. There is a kind of harmony, a natural melding - it is beautiful having at once two people expressing their love for you, and this not just for me, but also for each of them. Who express their love for you, I sa again, and not who just make love. I could feel Edoardo's and Evy's love, but also that something beautiful was starting to be born between them.
When at the end, intertwined on the bed, we abandon ourselves in the bliss after orgasm, Edoardo whispers: "It has been wonderful."
"Hasn't it?" Evy radiantly says.
Yes, it has been really so. Also seeing Edoardo and Evy exchanging affections, instead of making me jealous, or making me feel excluded, gave me an unexpected feeling of joy, of tenderness. So it was for them too.
In those last days Evy remains with us, night and day. And we again make love in three, and each time is, if possible, even better. And also between Edoardo and Evy a strong sentiment rises... So, when it is time to go back to Italy, we tell Evy that we will wait for him, to prepare his luggage, to get the visa and to come to Milan. He is radiant.
We are back home, and we both miss him. He comes. It is a feast. Our life of three starts.
Evy reveals himself a wonderful script writer for my comic stories - he writes them in English then, with the help of Edoardo, translates them into Italian. Then Edoardo has an idea - he can become our manager, I make the drawings and Evy the stories. So we start our company, the E.E.&E. And also the English speaking market is ours. We have an incredible success.
So, I also answered now your first question...
Q. How long have you three been together?
A. Make the calculation, I am now twenty seven, Evy twenty five and Edoardo thirty - it is almost six years.
Q. No problems in these six years, in your relationship in three? It must not be easy...
A, On the contrary. There are problems, of course, as in any family. But each time the third one interposes, acts like a bearing, muffles the tones, reconciles... and all goes in the right way because we love each other, really, all three. You see, if in a couple one of the two, for instance, doesn't feel like making love, and at times it could happen, the other, how much he could accept, understand, feels... excluded, frustrated. It can't happen amongst us. If one of us doesn't feel like making love, the other two can do it without problems.
Q. So you are a supporter of the threesome...
A. No. I just say that each relationship is unique and has its own balance. We found ours. And it works perfectly.
Q. Who makes the basic decisions?
A. All of us together. And this also works very well. You see, if in a couple the two have opposite ideas, or they quarrel, or one of the two has to yield, but after all he doesn't find it fair, especially if he gets the impression that he is the one who has to yield more frequently. In three, there is naturally always a majority, the decision is taken in a democratic way, without yielding... But above all, because we really love each other. It is not a stock company... (laughs)
Q. Thank you Enzo for having told us your story. But now let's start with more professional questions. How much is there in your comic strips of your personal background?
A. As a plot, nothing, also because we think up the stories all three together, Evy writes them down and I illustrate them. At graphic level, there is all my vision of life, all my personality.
Q. In the story of your life, you never used crude words or descriptions, while your drawings are explicit, realistic. How about this contradiction?
A. I don't see any contradiction! When you chew some food, you crumble it with your teeth, salivate it, turn it in your mouth with your tongue, swallow it... but if you have to describe it with words, normally, you just say "I ate that food". Who is listening or reading fills this simple sentence with the right meanings, consciously or unconsciously, as he pleases. The role of words and of images, I mean, is different. All right, I'll give you a different example, as I see in your expression that this one didn't work for you. If you look at two making love, you see for example that one of them licks the member of the other, makes it slip between his lips, sucks it, moves his head up and down and you think "that guy is giving head to his companion". What you see and what you translate in words inside yourself, are two different things. Is it more clear what I mean, now?
Q. Yes, I now understand your point of view. Another question - while you are drawing, while you are representing some explicit sex scenes, do you get aroused?
A. (laughs) At times, it happens. Not always, it is profession. A little like for a doctor, at times he can suffer for his patient's suffering, but happily not always or he would have to stop being a doctor. There must be a certain professional detachment.
Q. A last question, Enzo. To represent so perfect male nudes (or not) and yet not stereotyped, but so individual, so alive, who inspires you? Do you have living models?
A. I possess an incredibly huge collection of male nude models. When we create a new character, I look for which of the models seems more fitting, inspires me better, then I start to draw him in various positions, taking as a starting point for his physical attributes the pictures I choose. If I see that it comes out nicely, the starting picture has no more importance, as at that point the character lives by himself. But the picture gave me the structure for the body of that person.
Q, Well, with this we conclude this captivating interview. Thanks a lot, Enzo, on behalf of all our readers.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 3
In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is
http://andrejkoymasky.com
If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English translations, so that I can put on-line more of my stories in English please e-mail at
andrej@andrejkoymasky.com