They aren't good

They aren’t evil. They aren’t even hedonists, they are just pure will and they do whatever they please when they want, where they want, with whoever they want and however they want. They are the Gynoids and, even though their simple name may point otherwise, they’ve been through a lot to become who they are now.

My first breakthrough in my still non-existent artistic calling happened when I was five years old, when I watched Fritz Lang’s Metropolis for the first time. Giorgio Moroder’s version which, no matter what those pretentious assholes... I mean, knowledgeable cinema experts say, it’s fucking awesome and has a better cut and OST than the original, and I’m ready to fight with a knife in an alley anyone who questions this truth. Anyway, the thing is that it was there when I saw the love of my life for the first time, my personal chimera, the platonic Idea of a gynoid that somehow the Demiurge managed to bring to this world without any other imperfection than the matter she was made of: Futura. I’m not sure if you noticed, my dear reader, but I really like Futura. No better gynoid has existed nor will exist (another truth I’d defend until death in a knife fight in an alley). Thing is, Futura has disturbed my necrotised little heart in many different ways through my life, particularly as a creator. When I was seventeen I started writing a failed and unfinished sci-fi novel where I needed an army of gynoids that had an important role in the plot. Well, not really, they were a secondary plot, but I as a narrator have a big problem to tell secondary plots from main ones- In any case, I always liked drawing my characters to be able to imagine them better, that’s why I’m slowly turning from traditional narrative to graphic novels. My gynoids were a bad copy of Futura. I redesigned them millions of times, always trying to emulate her magnificence and always failing miserably at it. In the end, when I scrapped the project, I also scrapped the never ending redesigns and the gynoids themselves too.

Back in 2017 I gave a try to fashion illustration. As a lover of clothing and a fetishist, and also as someone with artistic tendencies, I guess it was inevitable. Something I never really liked of fashion sketching is the tendency towards abstraction. Indeed, fashion sketches tend to be really dynamic with these lines that barely insinuate the figure, but I think it’s a shame the amount of lost detail to that lively lines. So I tried my best to keep as much information of the garments as possible, but I experimented with ways to direct the faces towards abstraction in order for my sketches to fit better the fashion illustration tendencies I knew back then. I had laying around at home a small bottle of Organza by Givenchy, it belonged to a perfume collection that was sold in instalments in the late 90s, and I’ve loved the cap since I was a little punk, so that became my main source of inspiration. I did a few sketches and then I scrapped them, as I do with pretty much everything in my life.

2019 rolled by. I’ve always been a big fan of punk in general and the -punk suffix in particular. Cyberpunk, Steampunk, Dieselpunk, Steelpunk... and it was then when I found out about Nowpunk. After a few musings on a surface level and dragged by my interest in fashion, I came to the conclusion that the world we live in is the way it is thanks to people like Margaret Thatcher. I won’t discuss if thanks to her the world is a better place or if it’s crashing down like bloody hell, but nobody can deny she had a great impact in history. Thing is, all utopias and dystopias under the -punk suffix have a distinct aesthetic as the core of their being and, naturally, fashion has a major role in the development of these alternative universes. And that’s why I started to do fashion sketches for this deviation of Nowpunk, the Thatcherpunk, and for that I simplified Margaret Thatcher. The face of my fashion sketches changed from the first ones to the actual ones just because when I did the first for the Thatcherpunk collection I didn’t recall how I used to draw their faces, and when I figured out how I used to draw them it was already to late as I had ten or so already done.

Thatcherpunk, and the link of the gynoids to Margaret Thatcher, is almost completely scrapped. All there’s left is a graphic novel based in a Thatcherpunk dystopia that I’m currently working on, besides that, it’s abandoned. So here are these little creatures who no longer have history nor a reason to exist that nowadays just do whatever they please for their enjoyment and, incidentally, ours (though they don’t give a crap about us liking them or not). They aren’t Futura, they aren’t perfect nor particularly pretty, they aren’t The Gynoid, but they are the gynoids.

My gynoids. And that's all I care about.