Lorenzo Gómez (1972, Almería, Spain)
With a BA in Advertising from the Complutense University and a degree in Illustration from Art School no. 10 in Madrid, Lorenzo Gómez is a comic book author and illustrator who also works in graphic design at Tau Design. As an illustrator, he has contributed to El País, Training & Development Digest, ESQUITX and Benzina and worked for Museo Cerralbo, Semana Negra de Gijón, INJUVE and other institutions.
He started out at a small advertising agency, and that experience inspired a series about “10 Reasons Why I Hate Working in Advertising” (2002, Tos magazine, issues 1-3, Ediciones Sinsentido). He won the INJUVE Comic Competition in 2001 and published El diario sentimental de Julian Pi (2003, Astiberri Ediciones). That same comic won the prize for Best National Work at Salón Expocómic in Madrid and was nominated in the categories of Best Work, Best Script and Best New Author at the Saló Internacional de Cómic in Barcelona. It has also been published in France and Portugal. The bulk of his work as an author consists of short comics like Tos (Ed. Sinsentido and Astiberri Ed.), Dos Veces Breve (Editorial Ariadna), Nosotros somos los muertos (Ed. Inrevés), El Manglar (Dibbuks), Humo (Astiberri Ed.) and Usted está aquí (Dibbuks). His latest projects include his contribution to the book De vítores y letras (2017, University of Salamanca), edited by Emilio Gil, and the graphic design and co-edition, with Juanjo el Rápido and Ricardo Esteban, of the comics magazine La Resistencia (2016-2017, Dibbuks).
As an illustrator, Lorenzo Gómez’s unique style is a blend of tenderness, sensibility, irony, humour and insightful analysis of the human condition, which he combines with fantastic drawing skills to give life to characters that live in his mind or reflect his “surroundings”. His simple, unassuming drawings forge an empathetic bond with viewers and tug powerfully at our heartstrings: at times they elicit a smile, at others they connect with our inner child, and in many cases we can recognise ourselves in the ordinariness of the scenes they represent.