Evenson, Sarah, and Jade Juno. A Poem for This Frontier of Language. Minneapolis: RUMTUM, 2018.
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Evenson, Sarah, and Jade Juno. A Poem for This Frontier of Language. Minneapolis: RUMTUM, 2018.
"Despite all my longing for collaboration, I cannot deny the incredible charge I get from seeing my own singular name printed on a giant poster or on the cover of a book. For me, every time this happens, I feel a little bit like my ego is on cocaine..." - Jacob Wren, Individualism Was A Mistake (But We’ll Miss It When It’s Gone)
"If the desire exists, the color is already waiting."
Color does not insist; it invites. It lingers at the edge of perception until attention turns toward it. The moment intention meets hue, something shifts—light becomes language, vibration becomes emotion. There is no force required, only openness.
To want color is to admit a hunger for depth, for sensation, for contact with something beyond structure. And once allowed in, it does not remain on the surface. It settles into memory, stains thought, reshapes atmosphere.
"Nothing demands it. Yet everything changes when it is chosen."
@themousefromfantasyland @piterelizabethdevries @thealmightyemprex @the-blue-fairie @professorlehnsherr-almashy @stickypersonaearthquake
Do you know the conflict between Autheur Theory vs Art as Collaboration?
Basically, Autheur Theory began between French critics and filmmakers, as a way of analyzing the film industry: originally films were clearly a collaboration, and it was common to have more than one director on the same project until the final edit of the film was reached (Gone with the Wind and The Wizard of Oz being famous examples).
But the Autheur Theory presented and popularized the idea that, to have the same prestige as, for example, a classic novel, it is necessary to have a figure defined as "the Author of the film", and the chosen figure was the director.
And this vision became dominant from the 60s onwards, when a wave of directors grew up who exercised strong control over films, and whose names became the brand that attracted people to watch. Before, you went to watch a film expecting to be entertained by the fiction, and to see the actors and characters who were the Stars. You would go by Judy Garland, Gary Cooper, Vivien Leigh, Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, etc. From the 60s onwards, you will see films by director Alfred Hitchcock, Stanley Kubrick, Ingmar Bergman, Federico Fellini, Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Copolla, etc.
And there was the simplified idea that "the director is a visionary genius who is a champion against the oppression of producers and studios who care only about money." But decades passed, and after some box office failures of films made using the Autheur model (Heaven's Gate directed Michael Cimino being the most famous), the cult of Autheur began to be questioned, as it denied the fact the role of all the team collaborating to make a film, often this personality cult of the director encourages abuse practices in the name of the "vision of genius", the fact that just because the director has a style and trademarks common to his films, it does not This means that it is automatically good, just that it repeats themes and subjects, the study of the history of cinema showing that Autheur itself is also a brand to be sold, and that it is not the "great champion against the studios", but in fact, he becomes prominent because when he makes a film that is successful and the studios see that it makes a profit, the studio will support him to do what he wants in the hope of always replicating that success, and the prestige of his name is it works as marketing in the same way that the face of the Actor who is a Star works.
I bring up this discussion because I think a similar conflict applies to the American comics industry: American society is obsessed with the idea of the Great Man, the Visionary Genius. Originally, artists drew the character, and then he became part of the publishing house (Detective Comics, Fox, Timely, etc.).
Those who originally created them continued drawing for a while, then went to work on other titles, and then another artist would take care of drawing the Phantom, Mandrake, Flash Gordon, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, The Society of Justice of America, the Blue Beetle, Namor the Sub-Mariner, Captain America. Another artist could expand the universe and increase the lore and create a new villain, but he did not compete to erase what the previous artist had built and only establish what their idea was as "the true version".
It was the old collaboration model in which the name of the artist didn't matter, what mattered was telling a good story about those characters. Not everything was rosy, obviously: with the publisher being the owner of the character, the artists were often screwed and left in the cold. poverty. Siegel and Shuster suffered from poverty after creating Superman, and it was the fact that other cartoonists came together to demand decent pay that helped them in their old age.
But narratively, there was a focus on cohesion and collaboration.
But in the 60s, as in the film industry, things changed: the idea of control and authorship grew.
And now you had Marvel (former Timely) selling the image of Stan Lee as the creator of his entire Universe, Steve Ditko defending the view that the Artist should be considered the author of the work, names like Alan Moore, Frank Miller and John Byrne becoming stars, and it all comes back to the idea that the Author should have all the control.
And when a name and work become popular and make money, remember what companies do: they let you do whatever you want:
You are the Autheur.
And readers bought into that idea: His redesign and rewrite of Daredevil and graphic novels The Dark Knight Returns and Year One made people for decades venerate Frank Miller to the point of denying everything that came before as the "version wrong" of the characters and that Miller "fixed" them, no one heard of Swamp Thing and Miracle Man until Alan Moore's name was on the cover, no one remembers that one day Sandman was a masked guy with a sleeping gas gun before being portrayed as the embodiment of the concept of Dreams in the graphic novels of a certain accused of sexual abuse Neil Gaiman.
Now, imagine you are an artist or writer who becomes known as a star in the comic book industry, whose name becomes prestigious and helps sell the magazine, and then you are given the job of drawing an existing character.
Everyone worships you, your word is considered law, you are a genius who can do no wrong, and then you think:
"Why do I have to follow rules, because I have to think about what has already been established as a characteristic of that character, when I can use it to represent what is MY artistic VISION of what a hero SHOULD be?"
And as a result. ..comic crossover events where a bunch of characters die horribly or turn evil for no reason, weddings you've followed developing for decades erased from continuity, characters committing horrible acts without any idea on how to examine the consequences.
We, as the public, created the cult of the genius, the comics industry responded to this by thinking it was a viable economic model in which to profit, and art suffered in the process.
Recognizing the importance of collaboration is the solution to dealing with this problem.
And there are other comic industries outside the US where collaboration, rather than competition between "visions of genius", is encouraged:
In France, more people came to draw Asterix and Obelix after the passing of Gossiny and Uderzo, building the stories based on the work they established.
In Brazil, Maurício de Souza's publishing house produces both Classica Mônica and Friends and Monica's Teen Manga series magazines with several artists and scriptwriters working together as graphics novels in which individual artists reinterpret characters, but without wanting to impose their interpretation as the only correct one.
And the Japanese manga industry has the model of one or two artists working on a story with a beginning, middle and end, which allows other artists, often fans, to develop sequels or spin offs that expand or complement the previous title, without ever trying to erase what was done before.
Unleashing Creativity: Exploring the Intersection of Art and Technology
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Introduction Creativity is a powerful force that drives innovation, self-expression, and personal growth. It is the spark that ignites our imagination and propels us to think differently. When the worlds of art and technology intersect, a whole new realm of creative possibilities unfolds. In this article, we embark on a journey to explore the captivating intersection of art and…
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Cabaret for Queer Criminals
featuring Sam Datum, Newton Clementine, and Tavern Barz
......
I initially wrote the Tavern Barz Tavern as a reference to the "Villain Bar" trope, but I guess things got a lot gayer as time progressed. Considering the fact that "queer coded villains" is such a well worn writing device, I guess it's only natural that the Tavern essentially became a queer night club. This only became more obvious to me when I realized that Sam Datum (top) was agender.
Newton Clementine (middle) is the usual entertainer at the bar, while Sam usually works behind the scenes. But I imagine they're not against getting up on stage every once in a while.
(technobabble behind the cut)
Welcome to the first little scene (of many, an ongoing series) featuring the adventures of mine and @samfrancis94 @samkuchingdraws MULE OCs 'Cosmic' & 'Franc'.
A collaboration of my writing and Sam's wonderful artwork illustration. Some will be scary, some will be sexy, and some will be very silly. I hope you enjoy. 😊 Your feedback is encouraged and appreciated. 🙏
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'Shower encounter'
Death Stranding OC Cosmic the MULE x Higgs/BTs
Warnings : Suggestive unconsented touching.
As Cosmic stepped under the cool blast of water, it took her breath away. It's exactly what was needed after a long hot day of chasing porters for their cargo. She couldn't wait to peel off the layers and let a cold gush hit all the bruises and aches. The outside make-shift shower made of a hose rig and plastic panels wasn't exactly luxury, but it was all they currently had. In MULE terms, it was an indulgence. Most went without running water.
Leaning forward into it so that the spray hit the back of her head, she surveyed her throbbing feet. Blisters covered her toes and heels. 'Hmm, really should upgrade my boots.' She thought. But there had been an odd shortage of decent gear recently, in particular boots. She could have sworn that they had grabbed some in the last encounter, but they were not amongst the shared loot back at camp.
An odd noise broke her thoughts. She straightened up and listened again, straining to hear over the torrent. She thought it sounded a bit like a growl. Her heart pounded, she stood still like a rabbit caught in headlights. Splat. A black handprint appeared on the ground a few metres away. Then another. She took a sharp intake of breath. 'That can't be what I think it is... There's no timefall...And the motion sensors haven't gone off.' The inky prints continued, moving in her direction. She stayed frozen to the spot, eyes wide in panic.
Suddenly a loud bang reverberated through the translucent sheeting next to her - a black tar handprint, followed by a clicking-like growl. Cosmic clamped her hand to her mouth to hold her breath. The urge to scream and cry out for help was overwhelming. The others in camp we were not far way, but too far to run, she would be dragged down before she got anywhere. She couldn't raise the alarm. She couldn't even grab her clothes or a towel. She was completely exposed, and in immediate danger. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to go away, shaking while her lungs burned for oxygen.
A voice full of southern drawl abruptly pierced the air in front of her. "Weelll, what do we have here? A lone little Mule." Cosmic gasped, attempting to cover herself with her hands, forgetting about the BT. A couple of metres in front of her a gold chiral skeletal mask appeared, seemingly out of thin air, and danced around with the whimsical voice. She stared, unable to speak with shock, clutching at her own chest and groin defensively. The voice continued after a chuckle, "Ah, ain't nothin' I ain't seen before, little MULE. Not that I mind having another look..."
The skull mask disappeared into a cloud of Chiralium, and with a pop appeared directly behind her. She jumped. The water pooling under her feet grew dark, it became black and sticky, rooting her to the spot. She swore she could feel hot breath on the back of her neck and shoulder, and all the hairs on her neck and arms erected as if the air was electrified. The shower water stopped. A black hand appeared from the puddle between her feet, and grabbed her calf. Then another slimy arm followed, groping her other leg. Cosmic whimpered. The golden mask laughed as the BT arms slid up her legs. They didn't pull her down but held her in place. The searching hands were cold, tacky, and smelt like death. "Please don't kill me!" she managed to blurt out. The skull face hovering over her shoulder chimed "Oh I wasn't going to KILL you....you're too much fun."
The tar arms continued their slow ascent, blindly grabbing, feeling their way. They got to her inner thighs, Cosmic clutched herself tighter, desperate to protect her most intimate areas, shivering from fear and the damp exposure.
Without warning, they stopped. She looked down to see only a now muddy pool she was stood in. The phantom voice echoed in her ear, "Got to keep you wanting more, little MULE..."
Cosmic came to her senses and made a dash for it. She used a towel for cover, and grabbed her clothes, running back to the MULE camp. A few of the others stared after her, she wasn't very often seen out of her suit. As she scurried past his tent crying, Franc looked up from weatherproofing a new pair of boots. He called out after her, "What?! You alright?"
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A big thank you to @samkuchingdraws for the beautiful Illustration. Go check out his art!