Sonia Harris | Writing About Comic Books

This site collects the comic book articles and convention reporting of graphic designer, Sonia Harris. Sequential art is an integral part of her design work and that interest was formed by a childhood saturated with Jules Feiffer, Dick Bruna, and Robert Crumb. Once she discovered superheroes through Kirby, Byrne, and Sienkiewicz there was no looking back. Born and raised in London (UK), Sonia now works from her design studio in Los Angeles, California.

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Committed: Nice Things (featuring Quentin Blake, Zak S., Jeffery Brown, Noah Van Sciver, and Emily Carroll)

Like many people who spend too much time online (don’t we all?), you might be suffering from some sort of indignant-outcry-overload as people tie themselves in knots over the latest scandal. Instead I thought that I’d offer a bit of light relief by sharing some of nice things happening in the world of comic books and sequential art. Enjoy!

Here is a nice thing happening in a children’s hospital: Quentin Blake has contributed some beautiful paintings to an “end-of-life care room" at Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital. His watercolors will be an important addition to this room which will be for parents to stay in when their terminally ill children are being treated in the hospital. In 1929 JM Barrie gave all the Peter Pan rights to the hospital, and so all the royalties from films, performances, etc of the book all go towards helping sustain this essential London hospital for sick children. By contributing to this room, Blake (another great children’s author) joins Barrie by enriching what could be a very difficult place to be. In my experience, bad art in a hospital can be very jarring and no art can be very depressing as it allows the mind to turn inexorably inwards to frightening thoughts, but good art can definitely help to create a better mindset and so I hope Blake’s elegantly simple art will help make this room a slightly easier experience for the parents who have to stay here. There is an article about it in The Guardian, at the end of which Blake makes some rather pertinent and insightful statements about the essential nature of art in the context of storytelling and communication.

Here is a nice film: Jeffrey Brown wrote a film called Save the Date, which is a sort of a slice-of-life kind of thing, had a bit of the feel of those classic French films about human interaction and relationships, that just sort of gently unfold for you and then end just as you’re getting really sucked in. The film has a lot of actors who I like, but have never seen in roles I really liked, so it was very enjoyable to see them all playing unusually nuanced characters. For some reason they usually all seem to play caricatures, so it was great to see them expressing a broader range of human emotion, which had a great deal to do with Brown’s very plausible story and dialogue. It’s really good to see a film that is so much like a Jeffrey Brown comic book, because there’s a complexity that he manages to weave into relatively simple interacting which enrich his characters. One of the characters is an artist, which allows Brown’s art to a be a little bit of a star, which actually made me warm to the character because it showed a softer, inner life. I’m glad there is space in the world for Brown to make films and I hope more independent comic book creators are able to reach a larger audience in this way. Kiel Phegley did a pretty great interview with Brown about it when it came out, and now the film is available to watch on US Netflix.

Here is a nice RPG book: Zak S. has a book out called A Red and Pleasant Land, elegantly bound and filled with maps, lists, plans and character studies. Reminiscent of some of Egon Schiele’s drawings, the art combines with a vibrant color palette with the spatial dissonance of MC Escher’s environments. It is ostensibly a book about a fictional continent inhabited by many strange characters, but first and foremost it is a tabletop gaming sourcebook, and contains all the tools to run this surreal world! Unfortunately, not being a gamer myself, that aspect of it was lost to me. However, I was very happily engaged by the detailed descriptions and elaborate illustrations, though I would imagine that if you are into tabletop RPG it would be tremendous fun to build a game around the universe depicted in this book. This is the first time I’ve ever looked at one of these RPG books and actually become excited, it is great immersive escapism even if you don’t use it to role play yourself into a new world. A friend who does know about these things tells me that in terms of gaming, "it is a supplement for Lamentations of the Flame Princess, the coolest of all the D&D retro-clones.” if that makes sense to you. The book is lovingly printed in Finland and the quality shows, there is a US distributor for it, or you can go direct to the publisher. If you’d like to see more of Zak S’s art, there is an exhibition opening on Friday at the Richard Heller Gallery.

Here is a nice biographical comic book: Noah Van Sciver’s Blammo #8 1/2 is a cornucopia of terrifyingly real stories. Immediately I love that this comic book looks like such a little slip of nothing, and yet somehow each full-color page contains a whole world of sadness. That’s not to say “sad” in a sort wallowing-in-misery way, more sad in a the-world-is-insane-and-I-have-no-rational-response way. Van Sciver’s rough art and honest writing is a stripped-down, no nonsense approach to the tedium of living and a welcome contribution to the medium, as there is not one bit of irritating self-pity or complaining, more an honest and comfortable acceptance of the way life is going right now. In addition to the non-dramatic angst there are biographical stories, which is great if you’re a process junkie because Van Sciver effectively talks about getting a book ready (Fante Bukowski, apparently coming out later this year). With all of the contained stories, this is my favorite sort of comic book to leave around to pick up at random moments. It’s less entertainment and more a sort of odd virtual companionship. You can find it in your local comic shop or at the publisher’s website; Kilgore Books & Comics.

Here is a nice horror comic book: Emily Carroll’s story Ann By the Bed for Frontier #6 is genuinely creepy. Just looking at the comic book again in order to write this sent mini chills up the back of my neck. Horror can be tricky because I’m not really interested in violent gore, but this is not that kind of horror, it is clever and subtle and the violence is never clearly depicted, in fact nothing is clearly depicted and it is precisely this that makes it so disturbing. It’s the sort of horror story where you lie awake in bed at night wondering what that creaking noise is, flinching when you see something out of the corner of your eye. A slim, full-color comic book, it is the perfectly contained story of a bloody murder, and then the disturbing occurrences, studies, and discussions which it has led to. There is a very intimate, one-on-one, organic treatment to the storytelling, which makes even the academic portions of the book feel wrongly vague and upsetting. Carroll’s careful use of texture and color adds to the atmosphere of fear, and by only ever allowing us to see glimpses of the narrators so that there is a strange dissection of them as people, (which of course, adds to the disturbing atmosphere of the book). Well-crafted, this is a nice addition to the Frontier series and I think it’s still available from Youth in Decline.

Here is a nice compendium comic book to look forward to: Daniel Clowes The Complete Eightball comes out next month from Fantagraphics! Great art, great writing, inventive stories, and very disturbing nightmares… Do I need to describe the indescribable to you? Suffice to say his stories have everything you could possibly want from comic books and a lot of things you don’t. So much misanthropic joy! I’m one of those weird fan-types who has picked up each of Clowes comic books as it made it’s way slowly to the shops, but if you were smart and didn’t, now you can get it all at once. Reading Eightball very gradually has been quite an experience, (he is deservedly known as one of the great independent comic book creators), but I can’t imagine what sitting down with all of those issues compiled into one book could do to your brain... probably good things. If you like surrealism, humor, self-hatred, and living in the world with nothing making sense, then this is the book for you! If you don’t like those things, you might like it even more. If you can’t wait a month to buy it in a shop, you can pre-order it, (so that in a month, when this structural, load-bearing-sized book comes out, your mailman can resent you).

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Committed: The Sublime Variant Covers of Penguin Classics Graphic Deluxe Editions

Comic books aren’t the only publications who dabble in variant covers. Novels often find an entirely new audience by repackaging and reformatting the covers and sometimes even the content (e.g. the Harry Potter books are a good example of this, by creating fun covers with large type which appealed to children, and more elegant covers and smaller type for a more mature audience). A few weeks ago I stumbled on an instance of prose fiction dipping a proverbial toe into the world of sequential art and the results are pretty spectacular.

While a variant cover is often introduced simply as a marketing exercise, with very obvious results as noted above, when the aims are less direct then resulting variation can be quite unexpected. There are comic book companies who simply court scandal with variant covers by commissioning artists whose work is inappropriate for the content or the audience. If you’re interested in reading more about that, there are other place on this wonderful site to do so, I have little interest in discussing the poor choices of a single company, instead I’d like to focus on one company who did it right, because a variant cover chosen with care and thought can be a perfect way to attract positive attention and incite productive discussion.

Browsing in City Lights a few weeks ago, (and this is the advantage of browsing books in a physical shop instead of online) I found that they had 3 or 4 different prints of each classic novel. As a graphic designer I often have to design new covers for books, so this was a fantastic opportunity to do some quick research. Two of the covers which immediately caught my eye were paperback copies of Lady Chatterley’s Lover (with a new cover by Chester Browne) and Candide (with a new cover by Chris Ware). Originally published in 1928, D.H. Lawrence’s work precedes Brown’s by decades, yet both of them share a willingness to explore and expose various, taboo aspects of sex and emotional connection. Similarly, Voltaire scathing little tale about the universal pain of living was published a couple of hundred years before Chris Ware was even thinking about creating book after book about his own sweet tortures of life, and so the two are an ideal match. Ignoring the perfect pairing of artists and authors, the books are also printed on lovely, toothy, heavy paper, and the covers are printed on a wonderfully dense, uncoated card, with folding back and front panels (as if it has a dust jacket) which allow the covers to tell a longer tale about the interior.

While the above are both well known now as simply a couple of well-known classics, in their time they were considered incendiary and weren’t exactly intended to end up as old classics. Pairing artist’s who’re famed for their work in independent comic book is a reminder that these books were once outrageous and is an excellent way to communicate the trashy, funny, relatable nature of the stories contained within. It’s so clever really that I can’t believe that this approach to variant covers is taken more often, Penguin aren't diluting or changing the message of their classics in any way, but are using the cover as a space to evoke a contemporary context for that in which they were originally published.

As clever as the idea is, it would be nothing if the right comic book artist weren’t paired with the right novel, that’s where the bit of genius comes in. Frank Miller uses negative space and a Jackson Pollack-esque mess to describe the chaos of Gravity’s Rainbow. Chris Ware grimly nihilistic world view provides a clear mirror for Voltaire’s Candide, and even the bloody-minded politics behind his novel. Chester Brown reprises the warm orange and brown color scheme of Paying For It for another book all about sex, Lady Chatterly’s Lover. Daniel Clowes turns his point of view (infamous for making the mundane freakish and the freakish mundane) to highlighting the horrors of Frankenstein. The list goes on, artists and authors from entirely different eras with entirely different reputations, wonderfully and beautifully paired to complement each other’s work and talents. It’s a very clever idea and I’m happy that I stumbled on a book shop with enough shelf space to stock 4 or 5 different versions of each classic novel to let me finally find these editions.

These two examples are just my favorite examples of a wonderful series of books which appear to have been shepherded primarily by Penguin graphic designer, Paul Buckley. Officially part of the Penguin Classics Deluxe Editions, the Penguin Classics Graphic Deluxe Editions are a great example of truly effective, lovingly produced, variant book cover designs. For each one a completely unexpected (and yet absolutely appropriate) contemporary artist has been chosen to re-package a classic novel in an entirely new way. One look at the collection and it is obvious that someone with a great understanding of both the books and the artists had an overview of the commissions, and of the implementation. They are in synch and each artist’s style is a perfect compliment to each specific book. Along with each cover crediting the artists involved, the design direction is also credited, and this is a key point which is often missing from comic books. While a good art director might not by the person physically producing something, it is essential that someone with a creative understanding of the process have an overview of the project, as well as a deep understanding of the original book, the audience, the cover artists, and of the ultimate aim of the work as a whole. In this way Buckley and his cohorts have provided a path for these great, independent comic book artists to create a series of treasures.

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Originally published here.

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Committed: Recent Comic Book Designs

Regular readers might have noticed I haven’t written a column in a few weeks. I’ve had issues with a long term illness which is causing me more pain than usual and while I am trying a new treatment, it hasn’t yet begun to help. This means that I’m probably not going to be able to return to writing a weekly column right away, an annoying hindrance but for now I’ll try to write as often as possible.

The frustrating part of being unable to write every week is that I’ve had lots of things I wanted to tell you about and I’ve probably forgotten half of them by now... Pain makes me a bit slower to communicate, and I’m having to focus all the energy that I do have on visual design work (which is oddly easier for me than writing, more of a distraction from pain for some reason). Here’s a little rundown and some peeks of the comic book design work that I've been able to work on during this unplanned writing sabbatical.

Recently I finished up the cover designs for the new series Valhalla Mad, (from Image Comics, by Joe Casey and Paul Maybury), for which I’ve created antique-looking leather bound book covers with ornate patterns to showcase artist Paul Maybury’s paintings. It was fun to play with eras, creating a different pattern for each book, as if they were remnants throughout human history and culture from our encounters with the gods of the story. Valhalla Mad will be in stores on May 20th, 2015.

I’m always working on the ongoing monthly series Sex, (from Image Comics, by Joe Casey and Piotr Kowalski), which is increasingly fun for me because I’m playing more with color and exploring new layout directions (see the pic at top). I also created my third cover for the collected volume and that is tremendously enjoyable because I'm able to create art which (very broadly) attempts to evoke the inner journey of the protagonist. Sex, Book Three: Broken Toys will be out in two weeks on March 25th.

At the moment I’m designing the collection of the science fiction comic book, Ballistic, (published by Black Mask Studios, by Adam Egypt Mortimer and Darick Roberston). For the cover my idea was about reducing the concept to its most basic elements, so I created a little icon-algebra illustration in the middle of a large body of negative space, to contrast with Robertson’s insanely detailed art work of the city. I offered many options, but we settled on this (the most elegant and understated of the designs). For me it works because instead of even trying to compete with the kick-in-the-face impact of the action inside the book, it gives a broader overview of the story. Ballistic ought to be going to print pretty soon.

That's all the new design work that I can share, everything else will have to wait until another column. Meanwhile I'll be getting on with staying sane in the face of these silly physical obstacles and I hope you all can too!

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Originally published here.

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Committed: Object 5, Works by Kilian Eng - review

As I initially began casually flipping through Killian Eng's Object 5, I felt logic and rational comprehension slipping away from me, forcing me to slow down and take in the visual poetry presented. Reminiscent of the psychedelic works of Peter Max or Milton Glazer, there is also a hint of Moebius and even of Katsuhiro Otomo in Eng’s art. Eng’s line is always organic, contrasting perfectly with the tsunami of a color palette, weaving naturally through every style he utilizes, from the distinctly cold vastness of space to the eclectic chaos of natural and cityscapes. Playing with scale and perception, there is a distinctly otherworldly feeling to the art and despite the supposed lack of a unifying story, it is impossible not to feel as if Eng is taking us on a coherent journey through new worlds and realities that we simply cannot understand... yet. The apparent chaos invites further study, pushing to perceive things differently and comprehend the mysteries depicted.

Beautifully printed and published by Floating World Comics Eng’s Object 5 immediately impresses with heavy paper stock, saturated colors, and a basic, elegant design aesthetic. Allowing the art to shine, the book is a simple showcase for the wonderfully diverse range of gently, sweetly disturbing illustrations. With an eye always towards the surreal and unusual, Eng’s illustrations take us on a journey, playing with scale, illustration and style. It is a book to be experienced in the real world and although his work is available digitally, the tangible experience of turning the pages to reveal each new, surprising image is a necessary part of experiencing the work at it’s best. Previously printed only in black and white, this color edition brings entirely new life to the art, a rich beauty which overwhelms and nourishes.

You may know Kilian Eng from his work for Heavy Metal and Mondo, creating beautiful posters for films like Ghost in the Shell and Argo. Object 5 is an entirely different sort of animal, roaming as it does through styes and moods, settling nowhere yet with seemingly endless possibilities presented.

It’s a happy coincidence that when I began looking at Object 5 I had just begun reading Lathe of Heaven by Ursula LeGuin, about a man who’s dreams alter reality (a plot, by the way, which I distinctly remember reading in a 2000 AD comic book years ago, possibly by Alan Moore or Grant Morrison. If you can remember when that came out or who wrote it, PLEASE LET ME KNOW, because it’s driving me nuts.) Anyway, the beauty of LeGuin is her ability to craft strange worlds, plausibly and tangibly. She draws the reader in by depicting every aspect of the societies she creates, and all her book is missing is a real-world visual expression of that. As if by magic, Kilian Eng’s Object 5 arrived, and although it is ostensibly a book of disconnected drawings, it feels like the perfect companion piece to Lathe of Heaven.

My favorite artists in every medium are always the tricksters, the people who live to disrupt and play with our preconceived ideas, disturbing our equilibrium with their games. The joy of Object 5 is in the gentle way it disrupts, almost passively, without threat or fear, yet it is an altering book. Simply reading it and taking in the imagery forces us to re-examine our reality, looking deeper into the dreamlike art and losing our sense of self and reality in the process. Every time I return to Object 5, I see new stories emerging, as if the tiny characters so dwarfed by the unnatural worlds they inhabit are living secret lives when the book is closed. It is a book I cannot wait to pass on, to give to friends as a mood-altering trip and a visual feast to nourish the imagination. While Eng may have set out simply to publish a sketch book, he has produced something far more complex and mystifying.

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Originally published here.

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Committed: The Naked Power of Outsider Superheroes

As ridiculous as it is to compare superhero comic books to the real world, there is one area in which I can’t help but do so, and that is in the ways in which nudity is treated. Within the logic of superhero universes, the implications of and reactions to nudity are radically different to our own. It is generally acknowledged that revealing clothing and near-nudity is one of the ways in which women can be objectified, i.e. turned into objects of desire instead of complex, human adults. However, in writing about the nudity of some of my favorite superheroes, I began to see another way which nudity can be used; as a signifier of power and outsider status.

Years ago, one of the first articles I wrote about comic books for a website was a silly list of the top ten most naked superheroes. At the time I did it with no end in mind, but making the list highlighted a lot of interesting aspects of nudity and the way we unconsciously categorize costumes and clothing. I found that the most naked of the superheroes tended to be male and rather than being sexy as I had assumed it would be, this nudity was consistently emblematic of their immense power and their complete separation from “normal” society.

Obviously the most revealing superhero costumes are those which are entirely naked, like Doctor Manhattan, the Swamp Thing, the Silver Surfer (sometimes drawn with shorts, sometimes without), and Girl One (who didn’t look naked but her “costume” was actually just pigmented skin patterns). Then you’ve got the nearly naked superheroes in only shorts (or a correspondingly small amount of clothing), like the Thing, Beast, Sub-Mariner, Hulk, Ka-Zar, and Astro Boy.

It is interesting to note that none of these characters are (strictly speaking) human. Their lack of clothing doesn’t just highlight the pointlessness of clothing for them, but also their alien, inhuman, outsider status, which would explain why they feel safe to eschew clothing - what else do they have to lose? As an aside, I find it fascinating that out of all of these characters, only Doctor Manhattan has visible genitalia (the most vulnerable part of a non-superhero male’s body, indicating his complete separation from humanity) and only Girl One addressed her nudity. These very awkward and complicated interactions have been understandably avoided by most writers, but for all the furore about his personal statements in various interviews, it is only Alan Moore who has been interested in overtly addressing the implications of his character’s nudity.

Overall these are all such powerful superheroes that they don’t need clothing. Of course there is a correlation between power and nudity; before clothing was decorative it was simply protective and these character just don’t require that protection. In fact, most clothing would just need to be inconveniently replaced after every fight while their skin would be fine. Therefore it makes sense that if a character is created to be completely invulnerable, impervious to heat or cold, pain or discomfort, then they wouldn’t need clothing.

Then we get to the less functional aspect of the decision to go nude; convention. All of these superheroes live outside of society, whether it is because they have been rejected, isolated, born on another planet or plane, or are synthetic beings. They are not part of human society, and very few of these superheroes have a secret, human identity. For some of them it is possible that the lack of clothing is a conscious rejection of the norms of the civilized world, but it is much more likely that they’re so distanced from it that they just don’t think about it.

As a device in fiction, nudity is usually a device to titillate, so I appreciate the fact that in the superhero comic book world nudity can also have the opposite function; to mark the character as more powerful than regular humans and not a part of our social constructs.

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Originally published here.

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Committed: Fatherland, by Nina Bunjevac - review

Fatherland: A Family History is a gorgeously drawn, black and white, biographical comic book (or graphic novel, whatever you prefer) by Nina Bunjevac. Ever since I first saw it I have been very excited to share it with you. The quality and quiet intensity of this book makes it a must-read for anyone interested in the ways the medium can subtly convey a depth of emotion without excess dialogue or narration. It is a harmonious, elegantly solid portrayal of a jumbled collection of terrible events, and for me it was a great step forward in my own expectations of what it is possible for a comic book to convey.

In the simplest terms this is a book about Bunjevac's childhood move to Yugoslavia with her mother and sister, and about her violent father who’s activities as a Serbian National terrorist drove them away. Almost as a side act, the book offers a broad history of twentieth century Balkans, as it impacted her family and their lives… But this is the most basic description of the book, in many other ways it is a stark indictment of the way choices made by the powerful impact the people under their care, and while there are no judgements or accusations from the author, the pain of her family is laid bare for the reader to see.

Beginning with the author in present day Canada, we see her interact with her aging mother who is not a little paranoid and still trying to feed and care for her adult daughter. We’re quickly swept into a series of flashbacks, depicting Bunjevac's childhood in Canada and the events which led her mother to flee to Yugoslavia, forced to leave her son behind with a controlling, abusive father who is risking all their lives. As the story shifts further back to the events which led her father to choose this path, so too the narrative style shifts and Bunjevac delicately places all of the pieces on the board for us to see the painful inevitability of this life. From his own abusive father’s death in the concentration camps, through to his childhood experiments with torture, we understand the pain and anger which created him.

The consistent pain and loss associated with a life led without warmth or care are particularly apparent in this second half of the book about her father and his history. Though understanding the pain which brought this man into being does not mitigate or detract from the choices he made, it does make his focus on destruction seem inevitable, and within the context of his view of reality it almost is a redemption as he turns his naturally destructive tendencies towards a cause. Throughout the story the thin thread of fear and selective amnesia which her mother clings to is tugged at, she seems to represent Bunjevac’s strongest external tie to her past. By unravelling the past it is as if the author is trying to unravel her mother’s behavior, seeking simple explanations and finding instead this chaotic confluence of poor choices and bad luck which led them to the people they are today.

Llike Spiegelman's Maus or Sacco's Palestine, there is much here to digest, both on a personal level and a wider, political level. By using a repetitive narrative structure the intimate story of a nuclear family is placed in the wider context of grandparents and great-grandparents, then into the much broader context of world politics and the ramifications of decisions made far away. Using an overarching narrative could easily have lead to a personally accusatory tone, but Bunjevac is content to weave her story and allow us to come to our own conclusions. By telling the story twice, (once from the immediate point of view of the author as a child cataloguing a series of strange memories, and then again from a historical perspective), the poor decisions made by adults begin to make sense in the context in which they were made. By first giving us the stream-of-consciousness tale of the traumatic changes in her little girl life and following it with an examination of the causative events leading up to those changes, Bunjevac creates a richly patterned story which draws us deeper in to the broadly political history in a very personal, human way.

Initially Bunjevac’s art attracted me to the book, her labor-intensive technique of using pointillism and cross-hatching everywhere is very beautiful, creating a strangely conflicted reality where everything and everyone seems incredibly solid, yet simultaneously as if they’re woven from a delicately woven fabric which could tear apart at any moment. The subject matter is weighty and yet incredibly tenuous, both the people and the world-altering events which are depicted, and the art is a perfect metaphor for this dichotomy. The metaphorical jail she finds herself in is constantly reasserted by the complex art, detailed with a million lines of wear and shadow. As an adult and as a child, Bunjevac’s gaze is compassionate but unflinching. She is aware of her family’s flaws and yet she doesn’t label them as such, merely notes that this is who they are and how they came to be this way. All emotional responses, be they love, hope, sadness, shame, or recriminations must come from the reader and we draw what conclusions we will, based upon the information we’re given. By telling her story in this simple way Bunjevac gives us a gift, a freedom to read and understand what happened and how it impacted one small family in many terrible ways.

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Nina Bunjevac's Fatherland: A Family History is published by Liveright Publishing and out now.

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Originally published here.

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Committed: Links

In lieu of my column I thought I’d share some comic book-related links which have made me happy this week. As insane as it must seem to not take a break from producing my column over Christmas and New Year, it was easier to write over the holidays because all my design clients took time off... But today they’re back in force, everyone wants to start 2015 with a new logo, letterhead, leaflet, or website. There is a light at the end of the tunnel though, but for this week I hope you enjoy links.

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The always great Gilbert Hernandez is doing a weekly comic strip at Vice Magazine. Only five episodes are up so far, but it’s already very satisfyingly bonkers, insightful, and funny:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

This color process post by Nathan Fairbarn was deeply satisfying because Chris Burnham's sparse, elegant lines on "Nameless” gave Fairbarn the space to really go nuts with his painting. It is a highly collaborative way to work and a lovely example of the strength of the medium. The book also includes a lovingly crafted Rian Hughes logo, so that’s a nice bonus. http://nathanfairbairn.tumblr.com/post/107316841320/nameless-cover-process

Then there are the comics of Lauren Weinstein, who Tucker Stone introduced me to. I’m particularly fascinated by her “Carriers” project, which is so intimate as to seem almost intrusive. I’m in such admiration of her ability to communicate such painful and personal experiences with such a deft touch: http://nautil.us/blog/carriers-a-webcomic-on-health-luck-and-life

And Steven Hamaker has been updating Plox again!,It’s all about people who play World of Warcraft, but you’ll have to tell me if it’s realistic or accurate, I like it partly because I don’t play online games. In the abstract I think the situations seem more entertaining, plus it gives me a little insight into a world some of my friends are deeply into. That and I dig his characters: http://www.plox-comic.com/

The recent pairing of Morrissey and Charlie Brown seems inevitable in retrospect but who could have foreseen how beautifully the tragedy would be amplified? (I think I still prefer Calvin & Muad’Dib  but that’s because I like Dune a lot more than Morrissey.): http://thischarmingcharlie.tumblr.com/

I have to admit, I’ve been completely ignoring superheroes. Even though they’re still my first true love within the medium, none of them are doing it for me right now. I’ll keep trying though, and meanwhile here is a link about “super cows” instead: http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/jan/05/devon-farmer-forced-offload-nazi-bred-super-cows

This has nothing to do with comic books, but it will appeal to those of us who’re into the slightly OCD aspect of being a collector and observer. Soderbergh has posted his comprehensive list of everything he watched and read last year. I keep reading it and thinking of the various ways I would like to diagram the information, it really lends itself to infographic representation (infographics = the love child of comic books + insane lists of facts): http://extension765.com/sdr/22-seen-read-2014

And finally there is the always wonderful list of 50 comics positives by Tom Spurgeon, which is a great upbeat way to start the year: http://www.comicsreporter.com/index.php/heres_all_50_of_this_years_comics_positive_linked_to/

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Originally published here.

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Committed: My Top 10 Comic Books in 2014

Every year Comicbook Resources compiles a list of the top 100 books of the year as voted on by their writers. You'll get to read some of my reviews (if they're voted on by enough other writers) as the list is published over the next few days, but meanwhile here is my own complete list of my favorite books I read over the last year.

(Note: Observant readers will notice that I voted for two different books for #6. This is a mistake I made and I suppose I'm keeping it because they're both marvelous books and I refuse to choose between them or let anything go from my list. We'll just have to accept that my list goes to eleven this year.)

1. The Shadow Hero by Gene Yang and Sonny Lieu Inspiring, funny, engaging, and heartbreaking, this is the kind of superhero that comic books were made for. The metaphor of the awkward teenage superhero wannabe provides us with insight into an entirely new world. Yang and Lieu have re-crafted a classic and elevated the original material beyond anything we could have imagined.

2. Alex + Ada - Volume 1 by Jonathan Luna and Sarah Vaughn Working with writer Sarah Vaughn, Jonathan Luna’s cool art examines human/A.I. inequality. What begins as a cute science fiction book which the potential to explore the weird reality of living with a compliant artificial human has become a scathing indictment of inequality in our society.

3. Fatima - The Blood Spinners by Gilbert Hernandez If you have to read a strong-woman-hunts-zombies book, this is the best one you could possibly read. Gilbert Hernandez has created another hilarious genre exploration, with all of the energy and power of his previous works. Bringing his perfect lines to even the most outrageous scenarios, the simple beauty of the art is perfectly complimented by the wildly incentive story.

4. Street Angel by Brian Maruca and Jim Rugg Rugg’s gorgeous sense of movement and mood create a fun journey for Maruca's deeply troubled girl. Part fantasy-filled violence, part heartbreaking neglect, this is a story told in a variety of styles. Somehow Rugg does this while fitting in a visual commentary on the greats of the independent comic book medium. (It has been pointed out that this collection is a reprint from 2005. Yep, it is. I'm still okay with calling it one of my favorites of 2014 as well. This edition is pretty nifty.)

5. Hip Hop Family Tree 1975 - 1983 Box Set by Ed Piskor Whether you were there when it was happening or not, this is a book which will unfold a rich universe of music history and all the knock-on effects of it too. With the warmth and immediacy only a true fan could impart, Piskor tells the ongoing history of Hip Hop in these loving crafted volumes.

6. Moonhead and the Music Machine by Andrew Rae A strange, beautiful book about a boy with a moon for a head, either metaphorically or literally, it really doesn’t matter) and his high school experiences of making music. Rae’s funny, colorful book belies the complex inner journey of Joey Moonhead as he learns about life.

6. Neurocomic by Dr. Matteo Farinella and Dr. Hana Rôs Written by two neuroscientists, this book uses a journey through the human brain to show us all its wonders. We follow the protagonist meeting various strange characters inhabiting the world of the mind, learning something from each of them. Engagingly trippy, in the best way possible.

7. The Rattler by Jason McNamara and Greg Hinkle McNamara’s bleak sense of humor meets Hinkle’s wildly stylized characters in this tension-filled race to a horror-filled conclusion no one wants to reach. Despite every inner warning that things can’t get any worse, you just can’t put it down.

8. Oafanthology #1 - A Collection of Wuvable Oaf Drawings & Stories by Ed Luce and friends Packed with diverse stories by a slew of artists and writers, often working with Wuvable Oaf creator, Ed Luce, this is pure fun. Although geared very much towards an adult audience, the sexual tension in Wuvable Oaf stories is all in service to the most adorably ridiculous humor. A special mention has to go out to Tom Neely for drawing us a picture of Henry Rollins happily sprawling on top of Wuvable Oaf’s fuzzy chest.

9. Maddy Kettle: The Adventures of the Thimblewitch by Eric Orchard This impressively layered story offers something for all ages, as it maps out the path of a little girl trying to save her parents from a witch. The thin veneer of fairy tale logic weaves a world of horrors reminiscent of the original stories of the brothers Grimm, but it is fear which drives the evil in this story. Orchard’s chaotically detailed drawings bring Maddy to life as she learns the power of compassion and care.

10. Munchies by Katie Longua One woman's psychedelic journey into a (literally) all-consuming hunger. Funny, adorable, and a little bit ominous. The use of simple pink duotone coloring on the purple line work raises the status of this little comic book to a visceral print experience. Sparsely written, this is a quick trip to a world-altering-insanity which is too cute to be a bad thing.

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Originally published here.

[secretbean]

Committed: Make Your Own Superhero Snowflakes 2

It’s Christmas Eve and if you’re reading this, then you’re looking for a distraction and you’ve found it! Print out and make these superhero-themed snowflakes, they will keep your loved ones busy for at least an hour. Just like last year, each one is based on a different hero, this time we’ve got; Captain Marvel, The Flash, Spider-Man, Phoenix, and Wolverine.

Click on the thumbnails below to download a pdf to print on regular US letter size paper and cut with scissors. There are step-by-step instructions at the bottom of the page. My paper was a bit too thick and my scissors were a bit blunt, so you might be able to get a little more detail in yours. Let me know how it goes!

Download pdf: snowflake_captainmarvel.zip

Download pdf: snowflake_flash.zip

Download pdf: snowflake_spiderman.zip

Download pdf: snowflake_phoenix.zip

Download pdf: snowflake_wolverine.zip

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Originally published here.

[secretbean]

Committed: In Praise of Newbies

Without even meaning to, I’ve noticed a pattern lately of enjoying my friend's “late" adoption of comic books, science fiction, and other so-called geeky things I thought were just mine. It’s surprisingly rewarding to vicariously experience the things I love through people who are new to them. New readers' excitement about the books I have forgotten how to be surprised by, has become a wonderful way to stop taking them for granted. There are so many amazing things to enjoy that I can get jaded and forget how incredible they seemed when they were new to me. That’s why I love newcomers and even though I understand the instinct that makes some feel wary of them, it only takes letting them in a very tiny bit to feel how much their enthusiasm brings to the genre we love.

Early marketing of Buffy didn't exactly help me explain the appeal to other adults...

It’s been 17 years since Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a new show I loved. All my friends mocked me for watching a show for kids, or a show about a young girl beating up guys in makeup (no one else was doing it then so on the surface, at least, it sounded a bit perverse for an adult to watch), but I had so much fun that I didn’t care. By the time it finished it got so ubiquitous that even I became sick of hearing about it. Over the years I’ve liked it and watched the odd episode with friends but I had forgotten how thrilled I felt when it was new. Then my friends Jon started watching it for the first time and he decided it was remarkable enough that he needed to record the entire experience. Over the last few months I have been reading his notes and every entry reminds me of my initial excitement all over again, his observations echo my own and make me laugh at all the odd things he’s watching outside of the context of the era they were made in. I am so grateful to him for sharing his thoughts and reminding me what it feels like to be thrilled and delighted by something entirely new and absolutely hilarious.

The Bill Sienkiewicz poster I hung on my wall.

When I was a teenager, desperately waiting for each issue of Elektra: Assassin, phoning the comic book shop each month to see if the next issue was in, I was obsessed. Over the years I’ve retained my love of the series and the various ways in which it worked for me, but I’ve learned to love it in a very different way than I did back then. Without even meaning to, I’ve learned a lot more about how it was made, the intention behind it, and the ways in which it worked for my personally at a very pivotal age. I don’t have the same blind love for it, my appreciation is explicable now and although I like understanding myself more, that makes it a little bit less magical. Then a couple of years ago my friend David Brothers picked up a new reprint of the compilation and he became a convert, telling everyone about it, dissecting it, recommending it, looking at the books Miller and Sienkiewicz produced before and after it. His enthusiasm was so new and unadulterated that it surprised me, he read something 25 years after the fact, treated it as if it were fresh and that joy was infectious.

Faith Jaques' illustrations made me want to be able to read this.

Growing up I couldn’t read or tell the time when everyone else could, but a year or two after everyone else in school could, I finally learned to read. Once I could, I read everything I could get my hands on, but because I learned to late I can still remember exactly how it felt when I couldn’t. Instead of trying to read the confusing letters, I gravitated towards pictures; a more logical form of communication to me at the time. Everywhere I went I would rummage through books and magazines for the cartoons which would tell me a story. I didn’t differentiate between what was high or low art, it was fascinating to me that so much could be conveyed by each brush stroke and line. Once the world of words opened up to me and I could read the the captions which accompanied those cartoons it was just incredible. Now I will never recapture that feeling of unquestioning excitement to finally be able to read the stories and comic books I’d been poring over for so long, but I can enjoy other people’s newfound joy in it.

Last week my friend Todd asked for recommendations of female science fiction writers and I gave him a couple. Then as I saw the other recommendations flood in, I realized that I’d never got around to trying out Ursula Le Guinn. I asked for a recommendation of the best book to start with, so now I’m going to get to be the newbie and try out something which everyone else discovered years ago. It’s ridiculous but I’m excited to be on this side of the fence, experiencing something widely acknowledged to be great for the first time. 

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the ways I don’t fit in with my comic book colleagues and that instigated talk about what constitutes a real comic book reader, which is a slightly different question. It’s easy to feel like an outsider when we are so passionate about a genre that people have derided. That can make us cagey about trusting newcomers, but it is their fresh excitement at the discovery which renews our own. Think of it like The Vampire Lestat, where an older vampire turns a young human every few centuries so that he can re-connect with what is happening in the world. Just because I’ve had access to comic books since I was a baby, doesn’t mean that everyone did and that’s a good thing. It means that now I get to watch other my friends get excited for the first time, and get excited with them all over again.

...

Originally published here.

[secretbean]

Committed... but not quite obsessed

“You’re not a serious comic book reader.” “You have too many interests to be a real comic book geek." “You have an outsider perspective on comic books.” “You only think you like comic books.” “You’re too outgoing to be a comic book nerd." “You read too many different types of comic books to be a real comic book fan.”

These are things friends have said to me, none of them meant as insults, simply letting me know that in their eyes, I don’t quite belong in their club. From their perspective I am not obsessed enough to fit in. Over six years ago I published my first column about comic books, writing about what had been a childhood secret obsession for me. At the time a friend suggested that I name my column “secret obsession”, but I knew that “obsession” wasn’t quite the right word to describe my approach about comic books, at least not the way it gets used now.

I wore glasses as a kid, now am I a "real" nerd?

I love comic books, but I also love movies, a slew of television shows, abstract expressionist painting, contemporary fashion design, photography, modern architecture, science fiction, travel, and an increasingly broad variety of music. It’s a problem because I’m not obsessed enough with one thing to be easily identified and put into any single social category. 

It is always funny when friends and colleagues talk about my “outsider perspective”, because friends and colleagues outside of the comic book industry always talk about my “insider knowledge”! Everything is relative. To one group my broad variety of interests earmarks me as a kind of affectionate dilettante, dabbling on the outskirts of an interest in comic books with no desire to immerse myself entirely. Other people who have no interest in the medium see my walls decked with original page art, my shelves filled with action figures, graphic novels, and comic books and they label f me as that woman obsessed with comic books. It isn’t that one group is correct, it is simply that their barometers are very different. It’s similar to the way American people hear my accent as very British, but British people hear a lot of American in it because I've been here for so long.

However I am seen by others, I am aware of the impact that comic books have had on my life in the same way that I appreciate the impact of Anselm Kiefer or Frank Lloyd Wright on my psyche, (to name just two examples out of many). For years I worried about my strange obsession with American comic books that set me apart from my friends growing up, they weren’t interested in the medium and saw me as stupid because of my love of it. Yet I now find myself in the odd position living in a world where my interest in comic books is not nearly obsessed enough and so I once again I don’t fit in, this time with the world of “true” geekdom.

Do you know those in-depth discussions about comic books, movies, and television shows where people discuss the exact parts which aren’t logical or don’t work within the constraints of the world depicted? I don’t often have those, in fact they don’t really interest me, I don’t want to dissect entertainment in that way. It isn’t that I don’t see the problems; sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t, and sometimes I choose to ignore them so that I can enjoy the subject. The point is, that kind of detailed analysis of entertainment media seems exhausting and isn’t the way I want to experience them. Of course I understand that kind of analysis because I apply that approach my field of work, and that is exactly what it can feels like: work. It isn’t fun for me, it detracts from my enjoyment.

Comic books are for everyone.

This disinterest in critical, minutiae-oriented analysis is another way in which I am not obsessed enough to be a true fan of comic books (in some people’s minds), and that is something I can relate to. For me, when my colleagues in graphic design do not see the work this way then I find it hard to take them seriously and I don’t really know how they can un-see these (to my eye) glaring details. However, this is because graphic design is my work, I chose it as a career specifically because I am only able to see it in this way, my natural inclination makes me well-suited to it. When enjoying entertainment media, as much as possible I try to switch off the analytical parts of my brain, dissecting it as I do graphic design would turn it into work and as much as I enjoy my job I still need to escape it sometimes.

It may be that I read too much philosophy and existential fiction when I was too young and malleable, but not fitting in didn’t used to seem like a problem to me. If anything I eschewed things that became popular, hating the feeling that I might be following the herd and worrying that I might become homogenized. I wanted to find my own path and I hope I still am… And so I’ve decided that whether I’m deemed to be not a true comic book fan by my fellow fans, or conversely judged to be a massive comic book nerd by friends and colleagues outside of this medium, doesn’t matter. I like what I like and I love living in a world where so much amazing human creation is available for our education and entertainment every day. The only sensible conclusion I can come to is that we’ve got to keep enjoying whatever we love in the way that feels best, and ultimately that is probably a little bit different for each of us, no matter how much some people would like to categorize and label us.

...

Originally published here.

[secretbean]

Committed: The Good People of Comic Books and the Role of Maus in Genetic PTSD Study

In researching my own physiology this week, I stumbled on an article about inherited trauma. To summarize as briefly as I can, the basic finding is that people with post traumatic stress disorder have different biological responses to stress than people who haven’t been traumatized. In turn this differing biological response was found in their children and then in their grandchildren, even when their progeny haven’t experienced any specific trauma themselves. Previously these issues were ascribed to parents inadvertently transferring their own trauma to their children behaviorally, but these newer findings could lead to biological treatment options in the future.

One article cited a researcher who didn’t see the value in examining second and third generations of people removed from trauma, at least not at

“In the early ’90s, Yehuda opened a clinic to treat and study Holocaust refugees. She often got calls from the children of survivors. ‘At first, I would just politely explain that this is not a program for offspring,’ she says. But then she happened to read Maus, Art Spiegelman’s now-classic graphic novel about a paranoid Auschwitz survivor and his puzzled, repelled son, who observes that his father ‘bleeds history.‘ Shortly thereafter, yet another survivor’s child called her and said, ‘If you understood the issues better, I think you would see that we need a program also.’”

If you’re not familiar with it, Maus is an account of Spiegelman’s father’s experiences during the Second World War. Originally serialized in the pages of Raw, it is now available in either a single volume or two smaller books. Whether you have a personal interest in the holocaust or not, it is essential reading. Spiegelman casts various animals in the roles of the protagonists, creating a kind of healthy distance between us as readers and the horrific things happening to the characters. We’re always aware of his father’s voice and the very personal, intimate nature of the story, and the power of this deceptively sweet looking book is undeniable. As an oral history it is flawless and as a comic book it is revolutionary. The book is a classic for a good reason and unlike many of its contemporaries it spans mediums and appeals to a hugely diverse audience. I would recommend it to nearly every adult (and gift season is coming up), because despite the brutal subject matter it is a beautiful document of human resilience.

Various events this week have left me grateful to be a part of the specific comic book community in which I find myself. Social networks have done an impressive job of giving people a mouthpiece to espouse their responses to current events and to my surprise, despite my broad and disparate connections, it turns out that the comic book authors and readers I know online are a very thoughtful group.

I’ve seen many people bemoan the painful hatred they see on their own feeds, and it makes me feel that much more grateful to know the people I do. The warmth and care expressed by my comic book-loving community has been uniformly positive. Whether they make comic books or read them, it is increasingly clear that these are positive, constructive people who care about each other and the world in general. The comic book industry has had some pretty mixed press with horror stories about comic book professionals and readers trolling for arguments and even inciting violence, but this is not my experience of the comic book community. Instead I have been impressed and even buoyed by my comic book friends in this strange industry and I hope we can shine a light on the good today.

...

Originally published here.

[secretbean]

Committed: "The Dark Knight Strikes Again" 12 Years Later

Recently I had to take a look at The Dark Knight Strikes Again and it surprised me. It looked pretty good, had some funny, energetic treatments of old characters and an engaging story arc. I particularly enjoyed the variety of techniques used in the coloring, which heavily supplemented the mood and dynamism of the book.

In 1986 The Dark Knight Returns changed our expectations of comic books and in doing so it became more than just a comic book, which meant that it did more than any sequel ever could. It wasn't just a clever take on an established character either, it looked good, The Dark Knight Returns was current, scathing and aimed at an entirely new audience. Lynn Varley’s elegant painted colors added a new technique to superhero comic book art, and her moody, atmospheric tones washed over the book, setting the scene for the gritty tale. It all came together to form a groundbreaking work an effect which was impossible to duplicate.

Ostensibly set only three years after the events of The Dark Knight Returns, The Dark Knight Strikes Again was actually 15 years later and it shows. Miller and Varley’s styles had both evolved over the intervening years and so had the techniques commonly used in comic books. While at the time it seemed like an uncomfortable departure from The Dark Knight Returns, in a different context now it makes a lot more visual sense.

When it came out the things which made it feel jarring and different from its predecessors, now seems as prescient and caustic as The Dark Knight Returns did. While Miller’s personal political beliefs appear to be starkly divisive, this monochromatic view is appropriate when applied to an aging Batman. The bitter, jaded commentary he presents us with in the world of DK2 are an entertaining commentary on where we were headed when it came out, and (as it turns out) were reasonably prescient about the way our media is presented today.

Moving away from the problem of how its predecessor spoiled its reception, another odd facet of DK2 is the standout shots. You know, those big, splashy, full-page images which are meant to really stand out? Well in DK2 they aren’t that great, they’re a little overblown and clunky, a bit too aware of how great they’re meant to be. That’s alright though, because there are plenty of impressive, high-impact, powerful images which don’t seem to have been intended for starring roles. There are panels which leap out, they set the tone and create a powerful story. They aren’t always the images we’re meant to be stopped in our tracks by, but they do a hell of a lot of heavy lifting, and it’s up to us to pay attention to those instead of those big, fancy, full-page poster images.

Miller’s more aggressive, broader strokes (both in story and art) have a gorgeous, irreverent energy I couldn’t see 13 years ago. Meanwhile Varley’s use of digital coloring which seemed uncomfortable in 2001 is now so commonly used in comic books as to be mundane. Once that shock is gone, Varley’s skillful take on the tools is unique and vibrant. What was strange when it first came out, now seems urgent and bold and it could be that the biggest problem DK2 had was an association to a preceding book it had very little in common with and no hope of overshadowing. It tried to be epic, soaring and rebellious and it sort of is, but not in the same way that The Dark Knight Returns was and that made it hard to appreciate, at first. Today it stands better alone and is deserving of a second look as a powerful superhero tale.

...

Originally published here.

[secretbean]

Committed: The Henry & Glenn Exhibition

While I was at APE I missed the opening of a very interesting exhibition of art from indie comic book Henry and Glenn Forever and Ever at Los Angeles pop surrealism art gallery La Luz de Jesus. However, on Sunday I was able to attend the closing of the exhibition to take photos and speak to creator Tom Neely about the art, the book, and his work.

Sonia Harris: When did you first create Henry and Glenn Forever and Ever? What inspired you?

For the latest book, Henry & Glenn Forever & Ever, The Igloo had largely lost interest in the project, but I had an idea for doing something new with it, so I too the reigns for this book. I originally didn’t want to do a sequel, because I don’t like to repeat myself, but then I decided to take a different approach and make it more of a comic book experience. I wanted it to be sorta like a punk-rock Archie comic with several different stories running as a serial. And then I wanted to open it up to include many of my talented friends and weirdos who’s work I’ve enjoyed over the years. I’m inspired by the community that has sprung up around it and the enthusiasm from so many of the artists involved. We’ve had a lot of fun with it!

SH: Henry & Glenn is obviously pretty silly, but it seems to have captured people’s imaginations. What about the concept do you think people find most appealing?

Tom Neely: I have no idea, really… I mean, the obvious thing is if you are fans of Henry or Glenn (the real dudes), and you have a sense of humor about them, you’ll love it. Somehow putting them together is like chocolate and peanut butter. Speaking for the artists in the book, I think we are all genuine fans of both Henry and Glenn - but that’s a complicated fandom because they are such weird personalities - therefore it’s ripe for parody.

SH: Your own ability to echo many different, classic comic book styles is beautifully illustrated in this book, but which style do you prefer to work in?

Tom Neely: I prefer to always challenge myself with a new way to approach my art making. I’ve always changed my style from one project to the next. From my first graphic novel The Blot to my second The Wolf I changed from a ‘30s Segar-esque style to a more expressionistic, erotic, horror style (and I lost a lot of fans because of it). Then while doing these intense artsy books, I turn around and do Henry & Glenn and now The HUMANS… and I don’t know what’s next, really. I like to “echo” as you say, other styles, because I’m inspired by so many different things, but I always try to make it my own. I feel like sometimes people don’t know how to follow my work because I bounce around so much… The result is I have several different pockets of fans who like different things I do... but I can’t imagine settling on one way to draw things for the rest of my life. I’d get too bored. I have to try new things all the time.

SH: How many contributors are there to the series?

Tom Neely: The original Henry & Glenn Forever book was four contributors: The Igloo Tornado is Tom Neely, Gin Stevens, Scot Nobles and Levon Jihanian.

Henry & Glenn Forever & Ever has over 60 contributors doing fine art pieces, pin-ups, one page gags and short stories, as well as my own 4 chapter story all about Glenn’s mother. We weren’t able to get everyone from the book to send the original art for the show, but I think we had more than half of the book represented on the walls of the gallery. I think at least a dozen of us were there for the opening and closing parties.

SH: Do you plan to continue the series, or does this exhibition put it to bed, so to speak?

Tom Neely: Ha! I don’t know actually. I don’t wanna beat a dead-horse too much! After the first book I wanted to kill it because I didn’t like the idea of repeating myself, but I had a lot of fun making the new Henry & Glenn Forever & Ever series, so who knows... I’m putting it to bed for now while I work on The HUMANS series, but if I get an idea for more Henry & Glenn adventures, I’ll come back to it.

SH: What’s next for you?

Tom Neely: Today - November 5th is the debut of my new comic book series The HUMANS! It’s a new series created by me and my friend Keenan Marshall Keller. He is writing it, I’m drawing it, and colored by Kristina Collantes. We self-published our issue #0 this past summer and it was a huge hit. Now it’s starting up as a monthly, limited series from Image Comics. It’s a weird and fun world of biker gangs of ape-men living in 1970s Bakersfield, CA, on a monkey planet that strangely resembles our own world… Except it’s dominated by Apes and humans are dirty slave animals. We’re having a blast making this comic and I hope everyone enjoys it. It’s raunchy and weird and fun and violent! We’re really excited to see it hit comic book stores everywhere this week! I hope everyone will take a ride with us and The HUMANS!

...

Originally published here.

[secretbean]

Committed: Why I Can't Get Excited About Comic Book Screen Adaptations

Your interpretation of Batman isn’t the same as mine, and neither is your idea of the Flash, Green Arrow, or John Constantine. We all read different comic books, and from those we each build our own impression of our favorite comic book characters. I’m very fond of the collage of impressions of these characters which has combined in my experience to build a complete portrait of each of them. Yet I am still expected to enjoy and become invested in the way these characters are being depicted on television and in movies.

So people keep asking what I think of shows like Gotham, Constantine, Arrow, or Flash. They expect me to be overjoyed about the recent movie announcements of Doctor Strange, Captain Marvel, or Black Panther.

Have we forgotten the Green Lantern movie so soon? Admittedly this is a worst case scenario, but it it important to keep in mind that when we’re talking about superhero movies, things can and do go this badly. There is no point in getting emotionally involved in a movie before we've seen it, because all too often that leads to disappointment. Naturally I’m not saying that I’m not curious about a new superhero movie or TV show, because I am. I just keep my expectations reasonable and don’t get very excited anymore.

In many instances, my expectations are so low that I have no interest in watching some of my favorite stories be watered down to work for a general audience, particularly on television

John Constantine can’t smoke on regular TV, he can’t swear, he can’t shag, he can’t be resolutely left wing (socialist, even), and of course he can’t be the thoroughly evil bastard he always was in the pages of Hellblazer. So why would I watch a show about a random blonde dude who has some connection with the occult just because he bears the name of a character I used to love? I can't even read the new comic book about him, so I’m certainly not subjecting myself to a TV version of same. I miss John Constantine in Hellblazer, but this is no substitute.

In the last couple of days I’ve seen a lot of posts by male friends about the recent casting of Benedict Cumberbatch as Dr. Strange which cite his female fans, saying that “at least women will be happy”, the assumption being that we all find him attractive (we don’t) and so we’ll all find him an ideal Dr. Strange (not necessarily), but we’ll see. I’m also meant to be excited about the Captain Marvel movie, because she’s a woman and I’m a woman, (see how that works?) Unfortunately I have about as much in common with tall, athletic blonde women as I do with miniature poodles. Maybe as a man you’re thinking that’s crazy, but just because we have the same sex parts does not mean we experience the world in the same way. In fact, I identify more closely with Doctor Strange as a fictitious character than I do with Captain Marvel (or I did with Ms. Marvel) as a fictitious character. Yes, it is a progressive step forward that Captain Marvel and Black Panther are being made and it's about time, but I’m only going to get excited on a personal level about that when I’m sitting in the theater watching them, not before I know if they’re any good just because they exist.

They might be alright. The films might be alright. These days that’s all I hope for; “alright”. I don’t go to superhero movies with very high expectations because “alright” is usually the most we get. In fact, when a superhero movie isn’t outright terrible, I’m quite happy with it. Once in a blue moon they’re actually good, unequivocally so (i.e. people don’t say “That was pretty good for a superhero movie”, they just say “That was pretty good!” without qualification), but that is a rarity.

One advantage which comic book movie adaptations for the big screen, in recent years at least, is that they’re not nearly as all-ages focused as their television counterparts. It is apparently standard in America to make almost all broadcast television shows safe for all-ages, (violence not withstanding), and it means that many complex emotional situations are simplified and dumbed down.

While I enjoy the mano e mano standoffs which are the crescendo of most superhero comic book movies, I prefer the more detailed way these are presented in my favorite comic books. Simply because of the complexity of the medium, a more thoughtful, layered depiction of a “fight” is possible. By revealing the thoughts and ideas of characters, fights can have be more than the sum of their parts, involving more depth and discussion than a simple violent act.

Then there is the pacing, in a comic book we have the luxury of reading quickly or slowly through a big fight scene and it changes the entire focus of a story. In a film we’re subjected to the creator’s vision of the comic book, which is often focused on big men hitting things and each other, sometimes in slow motion to capture every thrilling moment. This kind of physical action on it’s own doesn’t appeal to me, I’m more interested in other kinds of action.

Finally, another element of the superhero comic books which I enjoy is the ambiguity. The voice, movement, appearance, and even gender of a character can be up in the air, something we have to apply to the character as we read the book. A good writer can play on this and make it a strength in a comic book, involving us more deeply in the journey as we apply our own ideas onto the character.

All of these elements combine to create a more interesting experience reading than we can ever have watching, so screen adaptations already start at a disadvantage. Lastly of course, there is the old disposability of comic books. While they might be collectible now, many comic books greatest, weirdest story lines came about because no one cared what was in them. Being relatively cheap to make, and created by small teams of 2-6 people, comic books have been allowed to go into all kinds of strange directions over the years. I’ve written before about the Avengers strange approach to relationships in the ’70’s, when people had nervous breakdowns and tried to make sense of being sexually attracted to robots, it was an interesting and confusing time to be reading comic books, but we’ll probably never see such a checkered movie about franchised superheroes and that is always going to make me a little sad.

...

Originally published here.

[secretbean]

Committed: The Unfolding Layers of Alex + Ada

Alex + Ada is one of the very few stories that I cannot wait for, and so I’m reading every 20 pages in each monthly installment. I hate waiting a month, so I definitely couldn’t wait for the trade paperback. You’re lucky though, because if you’re interested in jumping on now, the first 6 issues have already been collected into the first volume.

(Now I’m going to summarize the book so that you’ll know what I’m talking about, I’ll try not to spoil anything by mapping out the premise, but if you’re as averse to spoilers as I am, you might want to skip the following paragraph.)

Alex + Ada is set in a not-too-distant future where Alex is a slightly lonely single young man who is given an artificial human girlfriend. Initially he’s uncomfortable owning and living with what is essentially a subservient sex toy, so he quickly finds out how to unlock her artificial intelligence. He wants to enable Ada to become an autonomous individual in her own right, which is laudable, but he doesn’t think through the consequences. Unfortunately in this society artificial intelligence is illegal, which means that Ada can never be free, she will always be in danger, especially without Alex. But at the same time she cannot truly learn who she is if she can’t explore the world.

Of course this is interesting, how could it not be? Years ago I discovered the Real Doll and I was absolutely fascinated. In case you aren’t familiar with the concept, a Real Doll is a life-size, life-like doll which people can have sex with. The doll’s are made mainly of a silicon coating over an elaborate metal skeleton which helps to creates realistic movement. What interests me (outside of the idea of engaging sexually with a fake human, which is quite startling), but simply the idea of how someone could live with a Real Doll. The combined weight of the silicon and metal creates a human-like figure which weighs almost as much as an actual human body. Where would you store it? What would you say when people came over? Even the biggest loner in the world probably has one visitor a year, even if it’s just a landlord or a family member. What do you say about the fake body you keep in your bed, or a closet, or do you sit in in an armchair like Norman Bates with his mother? There are just so many questions, and that isn’t even considering what it would feel like to repeatedly have sex with a life-like doll and how that could impact a person’s attachment to that doll.

Jonathan Luna’s art on the book is, as always, cool as a cucumber. His elegant color palette and minimal design elements conspire to create a feel reminiscent of classic science fiction movies like THX1138 or Fahrenheit 451. The delicacy and austerity of his line work often belies the passion of the story, allowing insane situation to become more palatable for us as readers. It is within the meditative quality of his art that the story blossoms, tiny facial ticks and subtle moments of intimacy reveal the anguish beneath each apparently basic moment depicted.

Along with his brother Joshua, Jonathan Luna has a history of creating comic books which (usually obliquely) examine the gender divide. It isn’t generally the main crux of their stories, but for some reason these brothers seem to have an interest in the changing dynamic between the sexes. With a book like Ultra the story ostensibly followed the fame and lifestyle of superheroes, but they took the story in an interesting direction by highlighting the weird power dynamic between a female superhero and her regular, human boyfriend. In Girls they depicted a small town trapped in a bubble and gradually taken over by naked, identical female aliens who reproduce disturbingly quickly (and easily) by having sex with human men. The arguments between the trapped men and women of the town escalate and the sexual component of the alien invasion becomes a huge bone of contention as unhealthy relationships dissolve under the pressure of the situation. In The Sword a weak, self-hating, disabled woman watches her family destroyed by gods, is healed by her father’s magic sword, and embarks on a journey of vengeance. On her horrific journey she discovers previously unplumbed depths of strength, breaking every assumption she had about herself as a young woman and as a person. Letting herself become what she must in order to do battle takes her far beyond any role she had mapped out for herself, and changes her irreparably.

Working with writer Sarah Vaughn on Alex + Ada, Jonathan Luna appears to have finally taken a step towards a more overt examination of inequality. What began as a cute science fiction book which might examine the weird reality of living with a compliant artificial human has become a scathing indictment of inequality in our society. The metaphor of artificially intelligent beings living out their secret lives, unsafe and insecure, yet potentially stronger and smarter than humans is potent. The entire premise is just different enough from our world to make it entertaining instead of depressing. Yet it is close enough to reality and the way we treat each other to be heartbreakingly engaging. I cannot wait for the next issue.

...

Originally published here.

[secretbean]

Committed: Event Recap (LBCC, The Walking Dead Premiere, The Last SF APExpo?, & Ed Piskor at Isotope's APE Aftermath Party)

Click here to see the rest of my photos from Long Beach Comic Con.

I managed to score Jim Mahfood's book Scum of the Earth, The Hero Code, an atmospheric comic book by Jamie Gambell and Jonathan Rector, as well as the stark offshoot book The Black Wraith by G Brett Williams and Michael Harris. There were plenty of long boxes of back issues to rummage through, and when the convention closed these were supplemented by the giant $1 used book store across the street, which had a massive collection of their own long boxes for sale. I bought a couple dog-eared single issues of Joe Matt's Peep Show, (the perfect gift to make my married friends laugh), and the 4 issue series Vertigo Pop Tokyo (packed with delightful Seth Fisher art that was a must-own I was glad to finally find). The Walking Dead Premiere After Long Beach I had an evening free to attend The Walking Dead premiere at Universal Studios. I've never been to a one of these kind of events and I didn't expect it to look like all those Hollywood premiere events you see on TV, but I was wrong. In a sea of people in fancy evening dress I felt pretty underdressed, but then I spied the man himself; Robert Kirkman. And he wasn't wearing a tuxedo so I felt better. It was a fabulous night, even if you don't count getting to see an episode of The Walking Dead on a big screen (which was as chilling and action-packed as you'd expect). After the screening they bussed everyone out to the Walking Dead Maze and an outdoor street set which had been decorated to look like a Walking Dead set (i.e. fancy party meets post-apocalyptic ephemera, which is a hilarious combination for many reasons). Being shaken up enough by the scary screening, I found a comfy couch with Eric Stephenson of Image Comics and focused on harassing him about writing more issues of the excellent Nowhere Men, (fruitlessly, I'm sad to say), while wolfing down steak and teeny tiny lemon meringue pies. Alternative Press Expo

Click here to see the rest of my photos from the Alternative Press Expo.

The next day I drove to San Francisco for one of my favorite conventions; The Alternative Press Expo. As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, the focus on independent and small press publishers gives the convention a unique flavor. This year has to have been the best to attend, since it was located in one of the larger pavilions at Fort Mason, which is located right by the sea, with a view of Alcatraz right outside. I picked up great books like the epic No Straight Lines: Four Decades of Queer Comics, edited by Justin Hall, and Last Gasp's Janelle Hessig illustrated and self-published an oddly detached list of conquests by Brontez Purnell called The Cruising Diaries, and from AdHouse Books I managed to snag the limited hardcover version of their Project: Romantic compilation. There were some very positive news items that had people buzzing, including the fact that Fantagraphics are picking up Ed Luce's lovingly self-published book Wuvable Oaf. And I was excited to learn that Jim Rugg will soon be publishing a second printing of his Street Angel compilation, this time using a very light pink paper with a dark purple ink, and in addition it is going to be serialized on Boing Boing in this format over the next months, so check that out for a preview of the new colors. Surprise finds included Josh Frankel's disturbing little three book series Water Column, Kelly Martin's Doctor Lollipop, and Katie Longua's hilarious one-shot book Munchies. As well as comic books, I found a few odd things I "needed", like a creepy little sculpture called a Sickling, (which I plan to repaint in a more sickly way), some nifty buttons of gold teeth and shiny black bones by artist Josh Ellingson, and a Diorama Comix, which is a teeny, tiny, hand-drawn scene in three dimensions, all set up inside of a slice of packing tube. APE Aftermath at Isotope

Click here to see the rest of my photos from the Isotope APE Aftermath party with Ed Piskor.

On Saturday night it was time for the traditional after party that Isotope Comics always have during APExpo, and this year the guest of honor was Ed Piskor who was signing copies of his Hip Hop Family Tree. As always, Kirsten mixed a series of popular cocktails inspired by the guest star's comic book, and DJ Bearzbub played a perfect selection of classic hip hop. This year was another great party with a fantastic mix of people in attendance. I loved seeing all of my friends who I’ve missed since I moved to Southern California and meeting lots of new ones. Somehow I managed to get into an in-depth discussion with Eric Reynolds of Fantagraphics about the psychology of Love & Rockets, which was incredibly enjoyable. I dragged my little brother along too and he even bought me some comics which he said I have to read and I'm pretty excited about it. He got me The Auteur by Rick Spears and James Callahan, and Southern Bastards by Jason Aaron and Jason Latour, which I've been wanting to check out. Almost everyone accidentally stayed until 2am, when we were all falling down but very happily so. It was a great end to what will probably be the last Alternative Press Expo in San Francisco and I'm glad we gave it a good send off because the city will be poorer for the loss.