In The Adventures of Captain Torrezno, the most ambitious and enduring epic in recent Spanish comics, the creator reflects on the line between passion and craft. Early editions were of a more amateur stage, and over time the artist has revisited hundreds of panels, redrawing hands and refining faces to align with a growing confidence. Today, planning for the third and fourth volumes sits beside the ongoing work, with an eye toward consistency and a look that remains faithful to the last iterations, even as some elements would still invite further tweaks.
Back in 2002, the first chapter of Captain Torrezno emerged from a short story that began as a seed for something larger. The narrator describes a man who builds a model in his basement, populating it with miniature people. Over the years, those figures evolve, building cities, waging religious wars, and adopting new identities. A vivid chain of events culminates when the creator’s own world seems to react—ending with destruction sparked by a sudden accident, much like the fates seen in the pages themselves.
two possibilities
With a belief that this tale could become a comic, the project began to take shape and the characters started to come alive. A mysterious, bar-hopping figure who performs small miracles appears, followed by the pirate-like Captain Torrezno, a stranger dropped into a world that feels alien. This setup invites two paths: a grounded, barroom chronicle set in Madrid or a sweeping epic that rewards multiple readings through its layered references to history, culture, and popular culture. The core events of human history surface as potential anchors for the narrative.
Rather than anchoring the story to tradition alone, the approach translates a well-known Marxist idea into a living scene. History is played with, mixing a Roman legion with German soldiers, sometimes on different scales, much like children toy with plastic figures. The concept might feel fresh, yet it’s grounded in a place where comic culture is still finding its footing. Yet the work carries a quiet humility: a genre tale that doesn’t pretend to be a thesis, that doesn’t chase topicality, and that uses humor as a meaningful engine because humor gives depth to what could otherwise drift aimlessly.
Two decades after the first volume appeared and after receiving a national Comics Award, The Adventures of Captain Torrezno now spans eleven volumes, with the latest, Anamnesis, released only recently. A promotional claim frames the microcosm as just beginning to unfold, suggesting that even its creator cannot predict the end with certainty.
As for the storytelling arc, the author hints at a revealed structure. Before Distant Horizons was published, notebooks already contained many elements that would appear later—cutaway views of saucers, ships, and a floating Death Star, all teased like balloons on a ceiling. Although not all ideas were collected methodically, they formed a map of where the story could travel in future episodes. The plan remains to gradually fill in gaps while introducing pivotal moments that will resonate through the series as a whole.
Looking ahead, the work will progress through a notable milestone: the twelfth volume will conclude the chapter set in the basement on Valverde Street, representing a third of the overall tale. The second act will bring microcosm and macrocosm together, set in lush rural Galicia and the coastal parts of the region, where different groups of miniature inhabitants settle. In that convergence, the distinctions between large and small fade, yielding a narrative that could exist in a distant time and another galaxy. The sense is clear: Captain Torrezno is deepening in complexity rather than simplifying.
traditional techniques
The writer’s enthusiasm for fantasy rests on highly realistic drawing achieved with traditional methods, avoiding digital tools except for labeling and shadow work. Many claim that a tablet could save time, yet the creator remains unconvinced. The concern is that turning to digital brushes and textures might separate the artist from the tactile connection of pencil and ink, reducing the immediacy that comes from hands-on work. The argument hinges on maintaining a certain directness in the line and texture that digital tools sometimes dilute.
When it comes to depicting movement—such as elevator scenes spanning multiple pages—the goal is variety. Each panel should bring something new: different body language, expressions, and pacing. The profession carries a responsibility to readers, balancing entertainment with a clear ethical standard about craft. The long road ahead looms large, yet the commitment remains unchanged. The aim is to honor the reader’s patience and to keep faith with a comic tradition that encourages ongoing stories, a cadence of chapters that invites continuing engagement.