The Future of Comics: Paranatural and A Redtail's Dream

As a art student who was largely introduced to illustration and sequential art through sites like DeviantArt as a 12 year old, of course I've read my share of webcomics. For this week, I revisited a few I was fond of back then and will probably be continuing to read! The first ongoing title (which I'm not caught up in) that I followed in middle school was Paranatural, written by Zach Morrison, who during this comic's start was just a college student doing this in his free time. Paranatural follows a boy in middle school who moves to a peculiar new town and is quickly noticed by the weird kids at his school, eventually beinf wrapped up in a ghost-hunting whirlwhind of a club. The kids have objects possessed by friendly but powerful spirits which they use to protect the status-quo and uncover secrets. Since it is an ongoing comic, Morrison's art has vastly improved in quality over the years; the first chapter or so doesn't use color, but it goes on to become more and more grandiose without ever losing the charming, snarky spirit of the story.

As a kid, I think I latched onto this comic because I related to the protagonist Max, having just moved to a new place and meeting new people. Now, what I find most enjoyable is the range in character design, facial expression, and of course, all the sick monsters. I could easily see Paranatural adapted into a cartoon show; it seems like a predecessor to shows like Gravity Falls in which young kids battle weird, funny-looking cryptids and everything leads up to a much more epic plot.

Another title which I was fond of in middle school/early high school is A Redtail's Dream, which is based off of Finnish folklore/mythology and follows a rather apathetic protagonist and his eager-to-please pet dog, who is transformed into a new animal with each chapter. Trapped in a pocket dimension by the mistake of a young fox deity, they work together to save the residents of their village and get themselves out of a tiring, magical cycle. I loved this work when I was younger, though now when I look back on it, the story isn't all that compelling. There are several chapters, but each one follows the same format and it quickly becomes monotonous. Regardless, its never stopped being beautiful to look at, and the dog character is endearing enough on his own.

The artist, Minna Sundberg, is a Finnish/Swedish woman born in Sweden who moved to Finland early in life and started A Redtail's Dream in late 2011 as a practice comic whilst in university. She planned for it to run for 150 pages, and it wound up being over 550 by the time it ended in 2013. I haven't finished this comic, but over the past week or so I've been rereading it. The artists' pride for her culture and rick folklore is evident in this comic, which is why I keep reading it, because it feels like a love letter for Finland and its fauna. Each illustration of an animal is beautifully and skillfully rendered, as are the pink, orange and blue hues of the snowy landscapes. Reading this makes me want to visit a remote Finnish village!

Comics by Women: Diary of a Dominatrix and This One Summer

This week I read two titles, or at least a large portion of each. I peeked at Diary of a Dominatrix by Molly Kiely first at the very beginning of this course out of pure curiosity and wasn't disappointed; I'm not usually drawn to explicit comics, but this one reads very matter-of-factly, and its more of a how-to guide than anything. The main character is emotionally distant from her work but a sympathetic figure in that she comically struggles with satiating her clients while upholding boundaries. I thought DoD was graciously real in its exploration of Zelda's reasons behind what she does, the mundaneness of it, and the comforting domescity of her home life.

   

The second title I started was one I've read before: This One Summer by Mariko and Jillian Tamaki. Truthfully, I haven't gotten far enough to experience any heavy plot, but the story is familiar to me with its summer camp/vacation-focused setting and themes. I've gone to summer camp in the woods almost every summer since I was 11, so I'm familiar with the strange friendships that blossom over a season and are anually revisited like nothing ever changed. The art style lends itself to the narrative with a refreshing and breezy look to it, which reminds me of Hayao Miyazaki films and Craig Thompson's Blankets. Panel-by-panel the story seems kind of mundane and unimportant, but it is ultimately ramping up to more serious themes. This One Summer easily brought me back to days of tweenhood, questioning my relationships, surroundings, and my own body, longing for the nostalgic feel of when everything felt calm and natural.

Comics as Contemporary Literature: Asterios Polyp, Eightball, and Acme Novelty Library

I read a collection of titles this week, and they ended up being some of my favorites from the whole semester. Asterios Poylp in particular was fascinating, and relatable as an artist who has difficulty communicating with a couple people in my life who aren't so "right-brained". I loved the overall style of the art, but I always paid special attention when Asterios was in a scene with his wife and they were drawn with contrasting shapes to represent their worldviews: Asterios, with angular, geometric shapes and his wife with loose, sketchy and dissipating lines. I always enjoy a nonlinear narrative, as it takes a little extra work from the reader to piece together what the creators hand you, bit-by-bit, and the Mazzuccelli executes this perfectly. The ending shocked me as I think it's supposed to, though maybe I should've recognized the foreshadowing from earlier in the story.

Eightball by Daniel Clowes intrigued me from the start, though not necessarily because of what it contains (though that is mystical in a way that reminds me of Hotel California), but because I learned it was created by the old roommate of one of my current professors, George Pratt. He always talks about his time at Pratt Institute and the sort of underground comic revolution that he and his buddies helped to lead there, but I'd never really taken the time to examine the work that came out of that particular period. Now that I've seen it in Eightball, I can see why the authorities opposed it, but the "Uncanny Valley" vibe this work has is so telling of the times, and the attitudes of the artists who strived to put ther uniqueness out there. I especially enjoyed the "Devil Doll" narrative and the quick turns the girl's worldview keeps taking, comparing her no-worries satanic lifestyle with the evangelical motivational speaker that she ultimately becomes.

 The third title I read for this week was Chris Ware's Acme Novelty Library: The Smartest Kid on Earth. Honestly, I hate to bring it up, and I know I'm not the first, but the main character of this comic, Jimmy, just looks a whole lot like Stewie Griffin. I'm not sure which one came first, but the similarities, physical and mental, are uncanny. Moving on. I thought this work was really interesting, because it played off of traditional comic strips like Peanuts and their heartwarming moral values, but turned all that on its head. Jimmy is an asshole who thinks his mother is an idiot and schemes against her throughout childhood, but in adulthood he continues to live with her while silently loathing her the entire time. He's a little too real to be comfortable, since he never really does what he wants and lives his life having little fantasies of acting out maliciously or harming himself. Acme is another title which isn't really a fun read, but it is intriguing in the way it is done, especially considering the masterful panel work. Ware's style is similar to that of an airplane safety pamphlet: simple, bold lines, flat colors, and sometimes arrows showing you where to look next. He uses lots of "windows" and zoom-ins to transition to the next scene, which comes off seamlessly and keeps your eyes moving across the pages.

Ranma

For this week I read a classic which everybody else seemed to have already read but me. And I found it pretty entertaining! I'm not usually one for reading manga like Ranma; the titles I have read were usually tied to action-based anime I had already watched and was therefore interested in the original take on the plot. This was the first time in awhile I'd delved into something completely new! Ranma quickly became appealing to me for reasons I can't quite pin down, but I know I like the whimsicality of the plot; Ranma's master turns into a panda, his childhood friend and rival becomes a pig... your everyday anime struggles. Manga and anime have always been toying with the topic of gender-flipping and harem-type plots, but this one wins points for being one of the originals. I enjoyed the testy dynamic between Ranma and Akane, and their efforts to keep other suitors away with increasingly fantsastic means whilst they shove away their feelings for each other at the same time.  I also appreciated that Akane is no stranger to martial arts herself, and is quite adept in taking down her opponents.

Ranma is playful in nature and doesn't take itself too seriously, though Takahashi knows that her characters have a chemistry which is hard to ignore and plays into that. If I can find more volumes, I can't promise that I'll be holding myself back from reading more!

The World of Comics: Daytripper: Issues #1-3

For this week, I read a handful of issues drom Daytripper, which I thought was a really fascinating exploration of what evryday moments can mean to us, beginnings and ends of stories, and how you have to take your chances in life. The main character is a man who makes a living writing about others' demises, wanting to experience life for himself, but always getting cut short. His constant yearning for something beyond what he is living sends him down a series of paths which always lead to his death, but as the reader, we get to see (perhaps another version of) Brás live another day in the next issue. As a reader, I felt compelled by the story and kept wanting to read more because I wanted to see him accomplish his goals, which could just be my natural desire for happy endings.

 

I also really enjoyed the characters, limited though they are. Jorge is ever supporting and faithful to Brás, so he becomes a useful optimist in the midst of a rather sad narrative. Brás' conflicted feelings about his parents and his disdain for the fact that he's adopted their habits is intriguing, especially when the bar owner is killed by his nephew and Brás' own "you can't choose your family" philosophy is thrown back at him as he dies. I'll probably be reading more of Daytripper, if for nothing else but my growing curiousity about the nonlinear story and characters' fates.

March: Book One by John Lewis

I loved reading this piece. I went to a very small, conservative homeschool Co-op in high school, and I always felt like they glossed over the Civil Rights movement. When it was mentioned, I never really got a grasp for what was going on behind the scenes and there were never any comparisons drawn between then and the modern BLM movement or other social justice protests. John Lewis's story told in the form of a graphic novel made history seem all the more real to me, and I was able to better appreciate what he had done for the movement. Personal notes like how he would preach to the chickens and protect them gave insight to the core of his character that flourished when he was in a leadership position. The quiet fear Lewis and his father felt when traveling south was beautifully illustrated and allowed for me, as a nonblack person, to see through their eyes.

I think this should be required reading in schools for those less inclined to read large amounts of text and are better visual-learners, as it easily engages the reader and pinpoints an important era in history. When we understand the past, we can recognize the warning signs happening in the present and equip ourselves to deal with the situation, as John Lewis did.

MAUS

     This was a heavy week. I've been aware of Maus for awhile before taking this class, but never quite got around to doing it. Sometimes, despite knowing better, I put off learning about unpleasant things and thinking about what I can do to understand, as I did with Maus until this class. That was my mistake, but I'm very glad to have finally read it. Art Spiegelman's biographical telling of his father's experiences during the Holocauast was simultaneously mundane and heartwrenching, especially as he repeatedly reflected on how this atrocity affected his relationship with his father years later. Personally, I am glad that he did not omit the personal side of his story, as it gave a glimpse into the psychological effects on Vladek and the strain put on his family.

     I could say that I enjoyed Maus, but that wouldn't be entirely true. It is undoubtedly a prolific and deeply important work, but it is not a fun read. However, I did appreciate elements such as the representation of the Nazis as cats, the Poles as pigs, the Jews as mice, and so on. While the art style is simple, it is not unskilled and it perfectly mirrored the energy of the stories.

Women in Comics: "Pretty Deadly"

Pretty Deadly puts forth a western-style story with a supernatural, mystical twist that I found myself easily wrapped up in. The poetic, lyrical dialogue pairs hand-in-hand with the graphics, and even just the first issue gives a glimpse into some intriguing relationships. I’m always a sucker for the gruff, older protective figures who are surprisingly paired with a child character that they take under their care. The “found-family” quality of the two main characters’ relationship is endearing and mysterious, making me want to see the continuation of their journey.  I loved the dry brush technique in the lifework and the color choices, as they work together to make simultaneously moody and electric-looking pieces.

I connected with the energy of the art pretty easily as it drew me in and made me want to spend awhile just analyzing the brush strokes. The visual storytelling device of the tarot cards pairs perfectly with the arcane elements of the narrative. Once again, the characters Fox and Sissy caught my attention pretty easily with their solid costume design and magical storytelling in the first third of the story. I like snarky child characters, especially those like Sissy who seem to have a mysterious power about them.

If I were to adapt this story for a different medium, I think I would choose television. Television allows for a narrative to be told over a longer period of time and thus more attention could be given to more characters unlike in something like a feature film. To accomplish this transition, Pretty Deadly might make more use of flashbacks to establish how Fox and Sissy came together, or perhaps start before the first issue and kick off the story following one or the other before they meet. The TV show could also continue telling two stories at once, also following the journey of Alice as the gunslinger character.

Underground Comics: Middle Class Fantasies and Girl Fight

I read a story about a team of scientists bringing the 20-years-dead Superman actor George Reeves back to life in a Frankenstein-like fashion and giving him the powers his character possessed on-screen. While it has been some time since Reeves' death in 1959, I still thought the concept was pretty insensitive and perhaps cruel, which is fitting for an underground comic. We see Reeves' nude body as he's revived and he is promptly dressed in his old Superman costume, which is a little rude since he'd ceased to enjoy playing the character as he aged. However, I can't fault the art style as being unattractive, as it displays good use of pen and ink techniques and gives an unmistakable likeness of Reeves.

The other underground comic I read was Trina Robbins' Girl Fight, which was a feminist counterpoint to contemporary artists' work such as Robert Crumb's. Piggybacking off of iconic figures like Catwoman and Wonder Woman, Robbins portrays her heroines as powerful but intensely sexual vigilantes which team up with feminist groups and stab their male abusers as they get in their way. I thought this comic was fascinating, especially since it dared to show things like lesbian sex in both glamorized and humble, domesticated ways. Robbins' characters seem to me like an important stepping stone in the early LGBT movement, although I wouldn't call them extraordinarily feminist now. There is some unfair stereotypical treatment of the character Fox as she fights crime and returns to her jungle home wearing a leopard skin bikini, showing proof of first wave feminism's lack of intersectionality. However, I still found the themes displayed to be important amidst common ignorance of feminine sexuality, especially that of lesbian sexuality.

Graphic Novels: Blankets

If you want to take a bittersweet walk down childhood nostalgia lane, read Blankets. Craig Thompson illustrates in his novel what it is to look back on your memories and feel conflicted-- have your trials changed you for the better, or for the worst? Who do you love and who do you let love you? How do you move on? In using a non-linear form of storytelling with constant flashbacks and visual parallels, Thompson masterfully allowed me to step into the mindspace of the main character and slowly piece together the reasons for his hesitance and reserved nature.

We follow him throughout childhood and adolescense and watch as he finds his first love and becomes an artist, but are reminded throughout the way of his trauma with both intimacy and self-expression earlier in life. I personally found Blankets to be very relatable and have been thinking about it since I read it a week ago. The religious themes are cutting and honest, which really affected me as I grew up with much the same lifestyle. I also fell in love with Thompson's style, which I thought really adds to the story with raw drybrush strokes and skillful use of white, black, and negative space.

EDIT; I couldn't help myself, I bought a physical copy of Blankets for myself! It's too powerful of a story to forget, and I cant wait to get a closer look at the beautiful artwork.

Comic Books: Carl Barks' Uncle Scrooge's Adventures

Today I visited a well-beloved classic which has inspired many, Uncle Scrooge's Aventures. Carl Barks created an entire world for two rather simple Disney characters, Donald Duck and Uncle Scrooge, giving them friends, family, and a colorful variety of enemies, the most prominent of which being the Beagle Boys. Uncle Scrooge, Donald, and the triplet brothers Huey, Dewey and Louie find themselves in a new adventure just about every issue, which usually entails getting back Scrooge's gold from crooks or going on an expedition to find more. Each panel is lovingly filled with excellent expression, dynamic shots and entertaining story, which is why the series was picked up for two T.V. shows, one being made as recently as 2017.

The gags are a step back from Looney Tunes humor, and the jokes a bit more sophisticated, but the endearing thing about these comics is that they dont feel either too childish or grown up to enjoy and satisfy people of all ages. Barks' expoundment of these characters has given many children-- and adults entertainment and a love for the francise that still hasnt died out.

Comic Strips: Hark! A Vagrant

For this topic, I refeshed my memory of one of my favorite webcomics/comic strips, "Hark! A Vagrant". I've been familiar with this strip for years, as screenshots of its mockery of historical jargon and iconic figures circled the internet. Kate Beaton, the strip's writer, artist, and self-publisher is a Canadian artist with a fascination for historical figures, both fictional and not. Beaton's strips show her great knowledge of facts, while also pushing just a little past reality for the joke.

She uses a simple style of cartooning, but somehow manages to strike a perfect comical likeness to the character she is depicting. Hark! A Vagrant, while technically a webcomic, provides readers with a nostalgic simple strip-format, also ususally shying away from color. Being self-published and quite popular, Beaton has also had the opportunity to sell merchandise of her work online and employ guest-artists as well. I have always found Hark! A Vagrant to be perfectly charming with a perfect brush of blue comedy, and since middle school it's helped me to become more intrigued with historical figures; Some on Beaton's strips have piqued my interest in a person enough to go into some late-night web research tangents. I'm always going to enjoy this strip, and I'm probably going to buy some merchandise for myself too. 

How can comics be defined?  Why do we identify with abstracted images of the human figure so easily? What makes some comic artists more naturally successful than others?  Scott McCloud answers all these questions and more in his amazing piece, Understanding Comics.  One point McCloud discusses is what exactly makes certain comics stick and resonate with their readers over others, taking into account six steps of the comic-making process: Idea/Purpose, Form, Idiom, Structure, Craft, and Surface.  A comic creator may become caught up in one or more of these steps and unintentionally ignore the others, producing a comic which, for example, might look very aesthetically appealing but lack substance in the story.  Artists need to not only be able to draw well, but also know what they have to say to the world and how they can best express it. Without this introspection, a comic artist risks creating something they don't truly believe in, thus giving readers the disadvantage of entering a world with no heart. 

Max Ernst: A Week of Kindness or The Seven Deadly Elements

A Bad Translation by Emily Murphy

Page One: The woman featured in this illustration is casting a love potion using the rooster and the pearl its sitting on to create an inhuman lover, because the man lying in the doorway isn't treating her very well.

Page Two: The bedridden woman's demigod bird-lover has come to visit her in her final moments. She probably has a bad fever or something but its ye olden times so that won't end well.

Page Three: The woman has died and the demigod and his friend are laying her to rest, while her spirit rises upward from her coffin and rejoices in its newfound freedom and nakedness.

Page Four: The two demigods discuss how badly the body smells, whilst the woman's spirit hangs around for a bit clinging to her lover's shoe in hopes that he doesn't forget her.

Page Five: They didn't hide the body very well.

Page Six: The woman's human friends and/or family block the demigod from entering their room as he tries to apologize, believing that he had done this to their loved one. He's sad.

     Many have shucked aside the graphic novel as a legitimate method of storytelling simply because
the graphic novel can easily be included in the comic genre of literature.  Comics can  be considered
juvenile and immature despite their complexity, thus condemning graphic novels with the same
reputation.  Those who are skeptical about the impact a graphic novel can have on a reader of any age
should pick up The Arrival by Shaun Tan.  Even without including text, The Arrival provides its
readers with a powerful glimpse into the experience of an Ellis Island immigrant.  It is always better
to show rather than tell information, and this novel illustrates this perfectly.  When looking through
the protagonist’s eyes as he enters a new country without his family, we slowly begin to understand
his unique point of view.  Tan makes it clear that the man is an immigrant participating in foreign
activities by drawing everything he comes across as something from an alien world that even the
readers wouldn't recognize. This visual analogy crept up on me slowly, but as the light went on in my
head, I started to think about what it must have been like for my Nana when she immigrated to the
U.S. from the Philippines as a young woman.  Everything she came across must have been strange
and intimidating at first, just as it was to the man as he found new machinery, animals, and food. The
end of the novel especially struck me as I saw the man and his family assimilate themselves into the
culture of their new home while keeping bits of their own culture for themselves. My family, now
second and third-generation Filipinos, cannot speak my Nana’s languages or truly understand her
culture as she worked so hard to assimilate, but we still make her family’s recipes and remember
where we came from.  In closing, The Arrival makes a powerful impact because it draws from very
human emotions without voicing them through text: fear, loneliness, a desire to fit in, and a longing
for that which we know in an unfamiliar place.