Here’s a fourth thought about comics

image

A clipping from the opening chapter to Ivan Brunetti’s Cartooning, Philosophy and Practice. The first paragraph I just happen to disagree with in every possible way, but the food metaphor that follows is just wonderful!

Side note: this and previous “Thought about Comics” snapshots are taken with my phone, and I apologise for the image quality. Consider it an incentive to buy the books I quote!

Here’s a thought about comics

I was reading through the Abstract Comics anthology again (and if you don’t already own it, buy it! It’s a beautiful book with gorgeous contributions. I’m amazed it’s still in stock after 2 years!)

As I made it to the authors bio section, I was struck by Mark Badger‘s lengthy description. Basically, he recounts his travails from art school, through becoming a “comics pro”, to eventually falling out of that business.

Here’s an excerpt I found especially poignant:

image

Hail to The King, fight The Man

Kirby Self Portrait, via the-quantum-blog.blogspot.com

I’ve been kind of vocal on Twitter (okay, very) about my disdain for Stan Lee’s increasingly demented claims to single-handedly creating the Marvel characters, and the poor treatment that Steve Ditko and Jack Kirby received after their departure from Marvel Comics – specifically with the past years’ slew of Hollywood adaptations of their creations.

In recent weeks two internet articles popped up that express rather precisely my stance on the matter; one, obviously biased by direct relation, is an open letter to Jack Kirby for Father’s Day from his son Neal. There is a lot of bitterness to be detected in the piece (but justifiably so, in my impression):

Unfortunately, for the past several years, some in the comics industry who have had the benefit of longevity have used the opportunity to claim to be the sole creator of all of Marvels’ characters. Must be great to be the last man standing.  It would seem that being backed by the public relations department of a large corporation buys access into the 24/7 news cycle.

The other mention is an article from the New York Times, basically starting its report by indirectly calling Stan Lee a con man:

The comic book industry began life in the early 20th century as the province of con men who stripped artists of their creations, then moved on to the next mark. The artists who were paid virtually nothing for work on characters that are now worth billions at the movies are nearly all dead.

Yeah, it’s put in general terms, but the entire body of the article is about the Kirby family’s legal claim against Lee for creator’s rights. Who else could they mean? The article goes on:

…In his 2010 deposition, Mr. Lee seemed to suggest that Mr. Kirby was little more than a talented foot soldier who followed the whims of his boss.

Mr. Lee sang a different tune during the Marvel glory years of the 1960s, when he sometimes described Mr. Kirby as an equal in the creative process. In a 1968 interview later quoted in The Comics Journal, Mr. Lee talked about brainstorming with Mr. Kirby, who, he noted, needed “no plot at all” to produce stories: “He just about makes up the plots for these stories. All I do is a little editing. … He’s so good at plots, I’m sure he’s a thousand times better than I.”

I won’t go on at length here, but I think Lee’s creative output since the break with Kirby kind of speaks for itself. The quality of his writing notwithstanding, he has mostly gotten attention in recent years by launching gimmicks like “Stripperella” and “The Governator”, drawing on celebrity franchises Pamela Anderson and Arnold Schwarzenegger, respectively.

JUST LIKE IN THE MOVIES

A draft version of my editorial for next volume of C’est Bon Anthology, “Motion Picture”:

You know the guy. If you have ever in any social context tried discussing comics on more than a “Lil’ Abner was a durn good strip” level, chances are he was in the crowd. He’s a pretty nondescript guy, could be anybody really, but you’ll recognise him when he chips in and goes “Yeah, comics and movies are similar in a lot of ways.” And then the conversation takes a turn towards film, and it turns out he’s in cinema studies and really needs the attention. And sometimes he’s a woman. Look, I just made him up to prove a point, okay?

And there’s really no connection between comics and film, either. For one thing, comics don’t necessarily move (although some webcomics do); for another, movies very rarely work with plastic framing (since the silver screen doesn’t change its shape). Certain compositional analyses apply to both media, simply because they are both related to art theory, in which the analyses originate.

Film is the vision of a director (and a producer, and a board of CEO’s, and their daughter, and the pony she rode in on) filtered through a cameraman, a cast of actors, a sound designer, an editor, and, ultimately, a projector. Comics are the vision of a cartoonist, filtered through anything that might leave a mark on paper; the cartoonist sends her work to C’est Bon Anthology, you read it, end of line.

But there’s more: Comics are sequences of images composed and arranged to convey the passing of time graphically, and/or by juxtaposition transcend the meaning of the individual images. Which is quite exactly what the sequential images of a filmstrip can’t do without the projector, and, incidentally, in experiencing the time and space of the movie, we cease to perceive the sequence of the displayed images.

But the notion that film and comics are related on a deeper level is popular, and hard to lay to rest, much like Justin Bieber. What better way, I ask you, than to orchestrate an anthology of comics set to the tune of (no, wait, that’s our next volume!) – to the theme of Motion Picture? Read on, but be aware that we might be spoiling movies for you altogether!

Precipitation

Think a little bit about how Navy CIS starts every block with the single last frame of that block. Is somebody being a smart-alec or is it subtle foreshadowing?

Silly me, its Navy CIS.

Consider then how the first ten minutes or so of Lars von Trier’s Melancholia basically tells the entire movie in compressed, hyper-aesthetic, symbolic form. Also, how that intro affects your viewing of the film total.

I think that kind of hands-on is generally underused, and is love to try my hand at it. Or just see more of it.