Learning From Horror Comics: Your First Inky Experiments
(Or: How to Suck the Marrow From the Creepy Classics, Spill Some Ink, and Make Your Own Art That Haunts the Night)
Nobody talks about horror comics in art class. They’d rather shove Picasso at you, or maybe Hergé if they’re feeling quirky. But if you really want to learn how to make art that moves, art that sweats, trembles, and breathes, you go raid the graveyard—start with the horror comics. EC, Creepy, Eerie, Junji Ito, the old, the weird, the stuff your parents warned you about. Why? Because horror comics are a crash course in guts, grit, composition, ink, and what it takes to tell a story that leaves a mark.
Here’s your roadmap to wringing every drop of brilliance from those pulpy masterpieces—and making your own first inky experiments without apology, training wheels, or fake modesty.
1. Why Horror Comics Are the Best Art School You Never Had
Let’s burn the polite art books:
Composition on Fire: Horror comics know how to lead your eye, build tension, drop a shock. Every panel is a lesson in pacing, reveal, and punch.
Ink Like Blood: Shadows aren’t “suggested”—they’re carved deep, with brush and nib. You want mood? Learn from artists who could make you sweat with a single, jagged line.
Emotion in the Ugly: Fear, revulsion, awe, arousal—horror comics are messy, loud, unafraid to make you squirm.
Personal confession:
The first thing I ever copied was a Bernie Wrightson zombie. I got ink on my desk, under my nails, in my hair. It looked nothing like the original. It felt like witchcraft.
2. Step-By-Step: How to Learn (and Steal) From the Masters
A. Study the Greats—Then Rip Them Off Without Shame
Go after EC Comics (Graham Ingels, Jack Davis), Creepy, Eerie, Tales From the Crypt, and the manga genius Junji Ito.
Don’t just look at the finished page—study the breakdowns. Where is the eye led? What’s hidden in shadow? What pops out first?
Copy panels line-for-line. Don’t make them “better.” Make them yours through muscle memory.
B. Reverse Engineer the Inking
What brushes or nibs do you think they used? Sable or synthetic? Cheap technical pen or busted-up brush?
Try everything. Go thick and fat for deep shadow, hairline thin for tension.
Learn to fail—ink is unforgiving. Your first dozen pages will be a mess. Good.
C. Shadow as Story
Horror comics are nothing without shadows. Figure out why that ear disappears, why the monster is half in the black.
Practice “no-line” drawing—let shadow do all the talking.
Challenge: Make a panel where 80% is black, but you can still see the fear.
3. Getting Your Hands Dirty: Your First Inky Experiments
A. Tools You Actually Need
India ink or black acrylic ink.
A cheap round brush, a crow-quill pen, a Sharpie for backup.
Bristol board or any paper that won’t curl at the first drop.
Paper towels, courage, and a trashcan for the disasters.
B. The Ritual
Lay out your materials. Light a candle if you need drama.
Sketch in blue pencil or graphite—don’t overdo it. The magic is in the ink, not the pencil.
Start with the eyes or the mouth—whatever scares you most.
Load up the brush and commit. No timid lines. If you screw up, go darker. The best panels are born from cover-up jobs.
C. Step-By-Step: Panel Creation
Block out your borders with a ruler or freehand for a wild look.
Start with bold shadows—put down black where it hurts.
Fill in with texture: crosshatch, stipple, dry brush, flicked ink for blood and grime.
Save the highlights for last—scratch out with a knife if you need to.
Ingredient hack:
Mix a tiny bit of dish soap into your water for smoother ink washes. Or use coffee for sepia tones—instant vintage.
4. Building a Story in Three Panels (Or: The Shortest, Scariest Tale)
Panel 1: Show the ordinary—someone walking home, a cat on a wall.
Panel 2: The intrusion—a shadow that shouldn’t be there, a hand from behind the door, a split-second of terror.
Panel 3: Aftermath—either the victim, changed; the absence; or the monster looking straight at you.
Survival strategy:
Limit yourself to three panels a day for a week. No more. Learn to cut the fat and punch with the ink.
5. Survival Strategies: How to Stay Brave When the Ink Fights Back
Ink hates perfection. Embrace accidents.
Keep a bottle of white ink or opaque white acrylic for “fixes” (you’ll need it).
Step away when your hands start to shake—let the ink dry. Come back with new eyes.
Post your disasters. Every horror artist has a portfolio of “what the hell happened here?”
Start a “fail” sketchbook. When you’re stuck, flip through and steal from your own worst moments.
6. Confessions From the Trenches
My first ten horror pages were so stiff they looked embalmed. My fiftieth was smeared, unhinged, alive with panic and inkblots.
I’ve ruined favorite shirts, scared my dog, and found fingerprints in the margins years later. The best scare I ever drew? It happened by accident—one brush slip, and suddenly the monster looked back at me.
7. The Final Dare: Make the Shadows Move
If you want to really learn, don’t stop at studying. Start drawing—badly, boldly, often. Use horror comics as your grimy, glorious roadmap, and let your own disasters become the legends you copy later.
Because every good horror comic was an inky experiment first—
a mess, a scare,
a shadow that refused to stay on the page.
Go make something that haunts you back.