Comics Comints: Witch Hat Atelier
Welcome back to Comics Comints, the series where I comint on comics.
First up! Comics Comints now has a proper archive. Enjoy larger images, alt text, and tags for navigation.
Tonight, it’s time we did a manga! If you recall that post about paneling and time from a couple of weeks ago, you know it’s one I liked rather a lot…
Witch Hat Atelier (とんがり帽子のアトリエ Tongari Bōshi no Atorie)
(writing and art: Kamome Shirahama (白浜 鴎), trans. Rasmus-kun, #dropout and Project Vinland scanlation groups. I’m going to be using the name romanisations decided on by #dropout since they’re generally a lot better than the official ones lmao)
Ahh, Witch Hat Atelier. A truly wonderful comic, such that it’s tough to know where to begin.
Sometimes I compare it to getting my hands on a whole new Berserk, because Shirahama’s drawings have that same sense of being exquisite: gorgeously flowing cloth and hair and perfectly placed hatching, overwhelming confidence and attention to detail, an old-school romantic fantasy world you could really fall into. (Also I think she draws faces kinda like Miura does.)
Witch Hat Atelier begins with a girl called Coco living in a fantasy world in which the population is divided into humans and witches. Not unlike a certain Akko, she idealises magic. But she ends up performing magic by accident, unleashing a spell that turns her mother to stone. After this, the kindly Professor Quifrey, who definitely harbours no ulterior motive, breaks the taboo and lets her into the secret: anyone could do magic with the right tools (a pen and special ink), and the witches are maintaining an elaborate masquerade for the sake of containing terrible magical superweapons.
Or at least, the dominant Pointed Hat Witches are. Their enemies, a conspiracy known as the Brimhats, want to break these artificial shackles… and for reasons we don’t yet know, they see this novice witch Coco as their key.
Anyway, the thing that got me to read Witch Hat Atelier was this video…
…by manga youtuber Lines in Motion, which analyses Shirahama’s inventive panelling. It’s really nicely edited and a great primer on the principles of comic composition.
Anyway, per that video, Shirahama took inspiration from not just other manga, but old school European illustration like John Tenniel and Arthur Rackham - and good old Moebius of course. Unfortunately, this video doesn’t provide its sources, and I struggle to find some kind of interview where I can get the artist’s own words. Still, looking at her style, she’s not shy about gesturing to Art Nouveau, or the general tradition of European etching.
And when Shirahama uses colour - sadly only occasionally, though I can understand why! - she deploys beautiful watercolours that call to mind the same tradition (and perhaps certain recent manga like The Girl From The Other Side).
So, before we dive into talking about the comic itself, let me see what I can dig up about Kamome Shirahama herself and her inspirations. She studied art in Japan, at Tokyo University of the Arts, and starting publishing comics in the seinen magazine Fellows! in 2011; this led to a bizarre lucky break when her art was noticed at Comic-Con by someone at Marvel, which gave her a foothold into the Western comics industry, starting with this character Doctor Strange in 2015 (source):
Even seven years ago, you can see Shirahama could really fucking draw. This apparently continued with various other covers for DC and Marvel; meanwhile, having finished her two-year project Eniale & Dewiela (エニデヴィ, Enidevi) about an angel and devil brought together by a mutual enthusiasm for fashion, she embarked on Witch Hat Atelier in 2016 which continues to the present, with 64 issues available at the time of writing.
All this results in perhaps a perfectly optimised Art Build: both her parents are artists, she went to art school, she’s got a familiarity with both Japanese and Western illustration styles to fuel her. And that’s also perfect material for Witch Hat Atelier, which is about - among many other things - the struggles of learning art.
That word Atelier is interesting to me. In Japanese, it seems like アトリエ atorie is not an entirely uncommon word for an artist’s workshop even in the present. In English, its scope is generally much narrower: it refers to a particular tradition of art schools that began in the middle ages and lasted roughly until photography, whose primary function was to teach students how to draw in perspective using a variety of mechanical means like wire grids or sight-size techniques.
(a painting by Jefferson Chalfant of an atelier from the late 1800s - source Wikimedia Commons. I’m vaguely amused by the thought of this guy Chalfant showing up to the atelier and flexing on the students by painting not just the model but also all the other students, the room behind them, and thumbnails of all their paintings.)
Nowadays you’re most likely to hear the word ‘atelier’ in the context of the Atelier series of games, in which you play as a young witch and your atelier is essentially an alchemist’s workshop where you brew potions. I don’t have enough data to say how far the association between ateliers and magic goes - I’ve seen at least one more instance (Maria Umineko uses the word) - but in any case…
‘Magic systems’ in fantasy fiction are tricky things. Without some care, they can just be colour that carries very little thematic weight. Fortunately this is very much not true of Witch Hat Atelier. The basic premise of its system is that magic is created by drawing precise circles with certain symbolic elements whose size relationships combine to specify the magic effect. It’s explained in some detail, although there’s enough vague that Shirahama can have some real fun with the imagery.
The important part, though, is that while it’s not exactly the same as representative illustration, it’s close enough to it to be analogous. In Quifrey’s atelier, Coco meets a group of young students who each have their own styles of magic. Riché, for example, was treated cruelly by an arrogant teacher who insisted on orthodoxy, and now stubbornly insists on practicing only her own specific magical techniques; an important turning point sees her learn how to lean on other people without sacrificing her personal style. Coco has some skills she can lean on as a tailor’s daughter, but still has to drill fundamentals like learning to draw in a single smooth confident stroke.
It’s not quite as ‘trials of an artist’ as something like Blue Period (no spoilers, I’ve only read a bit of that), but it is a deeply compelling element of the mix…
However, magic is only somewhat like illustration. It’s also useful. And this leads to a fascinating subtheme around disability. One of the rules the Pointed Hat witches operate under is that they can’t use magic on the human body. So when a boy Coustas’s legs are injured by haywire magic, witches can give him an adorable deer legs wheelchair…
…but he faces many of the same obstacles as a real wheelchair user in a world not built for access. Coco and her friend Tartar try to figure out a method to help him without breaking the rules, eventually coming on the solution of creating a flying cloak as a new accessibility device, seemingly to everyone’s satisfaction… but then (spoilers) Coustas runs into a Brimhat who’s like “actually we have no compunctions doing a transhumanism on you” and give him legs back (if weirder), turning him against the MCs. But that same power is one we just recently saw used to forcibly transform people against their will. It’s an interesting mirror of the common ‘disability in sci-fi’ question; Coustas’s struggle is not merely that he is disabled, but that the world does not accomodate him and this completely strips him of independence, despite very little ill will from anyone.
And to her credit, Shirahama doesn’t seem to be trying to be going for a didactic angle on this (Coustas should or shoudn’t want…), but treats it as a worthwhile and interesting conflict, and I’m genuinely excited to see how it will resolve. Nor is Coustas the only user of a ‘sealchair’ - one of the main leaders of the witches uses one due to some kind of unspecified fatigue condition, even transforming it in battle, something which largely passes without comment since that’s not really the main focus of the character.
Anyway, despite their separate social system, the witches in Witch Hat Atelier have to make a living, which they do primarily by selling magic items to the non-magical population - subject to various safety regulations which are pretty strict and have a curious attitude towards deception in keeping with the Pointed Hat witches’ MO (don’t make a heatless flame or children might get the wrong idea!). So despite the wonder conveyed so effectively in Shirahama’s vistas of floating islands and twisting paths and underwater cities, it’s a magic that’s very grounded, shaped by the needs of a feudal society. She’s incredibly good at tying in these kinds of ~worldbuilding~ tidbit to the evolving character arcs, so the setting as a whole feels warm and lived-in but also shot through with genuine intractable tensions.
(I tend to show the more elaborate compositions with borders and splash panels, but even the more standard rectangular-panel pages have a real elegance to them)
One of these tensions is that between adults and children. There are many terrible teachers in the pages of Witch Hat Atelier - ones who berate their charges and shatter their self-confidence, or even in one chapter we witness a teacher who will not defend her student who is sexually assaulted by a nobleman and fights back (the only time the subject is brought up in the comic, and handled with care). Even for Quifrey, the picture of a benevolent instructor or good dad lmao, we have the lurking question of whether he intends to use Coco as an opportunity to pursue revenge against the Brimhats.
The children are surrounded by a world that doesn’t seem to work the way it should, rules that don’t seem to make sense but they have to follow, in a way that feels very genuine. And they have reason to fear: the standard punishment of the Pointed Hat witches is to wipe someone’s entire memories of magic and start them in a new life as a civilian. The fear of an extreme, draconian punishment leads the kids to end up keeping their own secrets.
But the adults are far from all bad. If, perhaps, the good relationships are a tragedy waiting to happen…
Then there are the witches and the secular authorities - monarchs of various kingdoms who are itching to get their hands on the secrets of magic. As the cast expands - and believe me it expands a lot - we start getting more and more points of view, and Shirahama is very deft at sketching a character’s motivation and vibe in just a few pages.
When it comes to comics about students at a school for magic, inevitably comparisons will be drawn to the elephant in the room, A Wizard of Earths- what’s that? - oh, yeah, that one.
So, yeah, according to Wikipedia, Shirahama took inspiration from both Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. Frankly I think she writes wrings around both of them, but then she’s writing a much more modern style of fantasy for an audience literate in the genre, with modern concerns, so perhaps it’s not a surprise I’d like it more than Tolkien. (Rowling is a thoroughly mean-spirited fascist who represents the worst of this country, and if I were to go through the comparison, it would just be a list of things that I think Shirahama does a whole lot better, so I won’t do that.)
What is a little interesting is seeing how, after Potter’s international proliferation, some of the imagery of the robe and wizard hat and school for magic starts to grow into a standard setting in Japanese fiction. Obviously Trigger’s Little Witch Academia is the big one - and I’m fond of it, but it shares little with it beyond the main character’s enchantment (ha) with the idea of magic. NieR Reincarnation is much less likely to ping on anyone’s radar, being a fairly obscure mobile gacha game, but it also took a magic school as the setting for some of its brief tragedies. No idea if that’s going to continue, or if it’s just a passing thing, but brain see pattern…
Anyway, it wouldn’t be Comics Comints without a detailed art breakdown, would it? There’s so much going on in Shirahama’s pages that it will be hard to capture everything, nor is this series really supposed to be comprehensive. Since I’ve talked a bunch about paneling already, let’s take a closer look at the characters…
Let’s start with kids, since most of the characters are kids. Here’s a handful of panels from chapter 42, page 13, trans. #Dropout (the work done primarily by Hypomanix and Botanyrobot in this issue). I think it’s a decently neutral example of a drawing of Coco.
There’s a lot that goes into a drawing of a face, to make it look delicate. But to my mind (c.f. the human head, a series I still intend to finish) the key elements are…
the profile of the face - this shape determines a lot
the size, shape, and style of the eyes
I said previously that Shirahama’s style reminded me of Kentaro Miura’s, but that’s mostly when she’s drawing kids. Shirahama’s designs are definitely within the broader ‘anime’ milieu, but there’s an old-school quality. Let’s break it down…
face profile - very rounded shapes. ubiquitous ‘cheek bump’ (pink), which helps the characters appear young.
as a standard ‘anime mannequin’ head, the overall aspect ratio is quite square, the neck is thin and relatively central, and the eyeline stays low.
eyes - this is where Shirahama puts most of the visual information (density of lines), with multiple rings of hatched shadows and highlights. In the picture above I’ve outlined the main shapes that go into drawing Coco’s eyes. Some of them can be identified as anatomical features, others highlights and shadows indicating form, some (the blue crescent shaped shadow for example) are perhaps just pure visual elements? Importantly, the outer outline of the eye is broken at the sides. All this complex shading gives a kind of shiny, watery feeling that suggests emotion bubbling under the surface even if the rest of the expression is very simple.
Coco’s eyes are very wide, representing her innocence. More adult characters tend to have narrower eyes, as we’ll see.
‘Big eyes, small mouth’ as the name of the old roleplaying game goes. Note that Coco’s face is wider than it is tall. Just the end of the nose is drawn, but its placement suggests the 3D form of the face so it doesn’t appear flat overall. The suggest is there’s more nose but the bridge of the nose is so smooth that it doesn’t really get a line - if you’ve ever seen a plastic anime figurine you get the idea.
The emphasis is very much on the eyes.
Hair is something that Shirahama really excels at, and honestly I want to absorb her secrets, so lets have a look at the way she does things. The way you can look at it is basically by dividing the hair into primary and secondary forms.
Coco here has very straight hair where the principle is particularly clear. First, you divide the hairstyle as a whole into large groups or blocks where the hair is flowing a particular way. For Coco, she has a part on her left (our right); her fringe forms one block of hair, which may go over or under the block of hair coming down from the top of her head depending on the picture.
Within each block, the hair is constructed out of smaller crescent-shaped elements which overlap each other (indicated by T-intersections between lines), and follow the overall flow. These merge towards the root of the hair block (the lines dividing them disappear)…
Then, additional lines can be drawn inside each block to add additional texture.
Judging by videos I’ve seen, Shirahama seems to be able to do these kinds of line straight away in ink, which is why they look so clean and confident.
For characters with darker hair, similar design principles apply, but instead of indicating the flow of the hair through outlines, Shirahama uses white lines within the form to indicate specular highlights. (Contrast Coustas’s eyes here to Coco’s incidentally: their emotional states are communicated by the different shading styles).
Now, let’s take a look at Quifrey and Orugio, two of the main adult characters in the comic…
Quifrey (right) has to carry a lot of the comic, and if you look at Shirahama’s design notes, he’s also one whose design evolved the most towards the fairly bishie one he got in the end. He has to be goofy, kindly, and sometimes sinister. He’s certainly not a villain, but he is willing to do some pretty shady shit - but he’s also good at presenting a generally sort of bemused affect, which is indicated by simplifying his design a lot.
The Gandalf/Dumbledore sort of archetype, but less magisterial - Quifrey is not an especially powerful witch. There’s a very overt indication of his divided nature in his glasses - there’s a plot reason why they’re different colours but the combination of dark lens and fringe hiding his eye screams “he’s hiding something”.
Quifrey’s friend Orugio (left) meanwhile is a more straightforward character, hard working, down to earth and straight-laced but out of a genuine sense of caring. Honestly, the fact he has facial hair is something that’s very rare in manga! One thing I notice just now while searching for suitably illustrative panels is that his face is often seen angled down, while Quifrey is more often seen from below.
The basic construction is similar to the kids’ heads, but a few differences to notice. As is the rule, adults’ eyes are proportionally a lot smaller than kids’ eyes. The construction of the face is slightly more angular, and they actually have noses.
Quifrey’s hair is a lot messier than Coco’s, but it’s essentially constructed out of the same overlapping crescents, which don’t especially respect gravity for Quifrey. Orugio’s hair is a solid dark mass, with a lot of loose strands around the edges, but you can still kind of see the locks of hair providing structure to the shape.
Shirahama’s lines are usually very even and thin, but she’ll often use a thicker line in a face closeup to emphasise the jawline, and in general a very subtly thicker line to outline forms than to hatch inside them. She uses screentones as you can see, but also extensively uses very neat hatching to create blocks of shadow or blend lines into larger shadow shapes. Her lines have an incredible amount of confidence and precision.
That’s faces, but what about the figure as a whole? One of Shirahama’s real gifts is her ability to draw flowing cloth with an incredible sense of motion. Here’s a classic Shirahama splash panel…
The contrast of organic shapes of cloth against the large circular element is something Shirahama loves doing - as is the use of negative space.
Breaking down the cloth: you have the solid lines representing the outer edge of folds, and then hatching within the body of the cloak to indicate shadows. In some places the hatching runs along the direction of the folds, in other cases perpendicular with it, all blending together. You can basically see how it breaks down into conical pipe folds that overlap each other, coming to a sinuous line at the bottom. Then this biiiig shape is contrasted against Quifrey’s thin neck, always upright, and the area of detail in his face. It’s just like. Really expert drawing by someone who knows the craft up and down.
There aren’t a lot of opportunities to see how Shirahama goes about designing one of these figures, but there are a couple of roughs she’s put out, so let me take a brief look at that to wrap up the drawing section.
this is a rejected draft for one of the first pages in the story. it looks like Shirahama roughs things out in quite a thick pencil, then uses a blue pencil(?) to refine, before inking. I suspect there may be more steps between, which she rubs out before inking…
These early designs seem to have been drawn into a thicker pen, with less care taken over the linework. What’s most interesting to me is how much Quifrey’s head shape changed as Shirahama’s concept of the character evolved.
Finally here’s a timelapse video of Shirahama inking a drawing of Coco.
You can see she starts with a pencil sketch that has the major shapes nailed down but not yet the line quality. She outlines all the main shapes, erases the pencils, then fills in the details at a slightly lower line weight. She’s got a ridiculously confident hand considering how much detail is going straight to ink in a way that makes my digital artist brain flinch.
The way Shirahama uses hatching reminds me a bit of Kimihiko Fujisaka, artist for Voice of Cards. I think I gotta practice more in ink lol, digital just doesn’t seem to give the same feel. Something about the mechanics of the way the pen flicks across the paper, maybe?
And that’s I think everything I have to say. Read this comic, it’s good! …oh wait, there’s an anime coming! As yet, the studio and staff are to be determined. Shirahama’s style seems very difficult to capture in animation, so I’ll be curious to see how they handle it.
Next up: The Less Than Epic Adventures of TJ and Amal I think.
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