Issue link: https://digital.copcomm.com/i/1500164
1 1 4 P E R S P E C T I V E | M AY / J U N E 2 0 2 3 My first exposure to The Last of Us universe was running across some of the game's concept art after it was released. It was painterly, cinematic, and each image had a sense of a story behind it. It looked like concept art for a film—a very detailed one with a unique sense of atmosphere and place. Little did I know that one day after an email to Francesca Orsi at HBO inquiring if there was anything I could be considered for; I would be drawn into its world again. The Last of Us is an award-winning, much beloved video game with legions of fans of all ages. At its center is a journey, both physically (Joel, a survivor of a fungal outbreak that has killed off most of humanity and destroyed civilization in the year 2003 is tasked with escorting Ellie, a girl who is somehow immune to the disease, across the continental United States), and emotionally (as they both learn to forge a relationship to survive). On the way, there are many dangers, but also moments of tenderness. The world is grim and hauntingly beautiful at the same time. For twenty years, everything has rotted and fallen apart. Nature has asserted itself and reclaimed the cities. When I first met with Craig Mazin to be considered for the show, I created a look book. I included imagery that invoked things that would appeal to a creator of the series Chernobyl (which I loved) and also captured what I felt was the tone of the game, but more detailed and heightened, with real- world references. It included several images from a series of photographs that Michael Wolf took of rebuilt and broken-down chairs in the back alleys of China and Singapore. He zeroed in on them and said, "that's it." The idea that everything had to be rebuilt and repurposed would be our underlying A