Tagged: art

More of My Favorite Things, by Elayne Riggs

elayne100-5596635The combination of my temporary unemployment and inclement weather has enabled me to catch up on my DC comp box reading, so I can finally pick up where I left off a few weeks back. Mind you, I was looking at October books at the time and since then the November box came in. Still, a couple of the same caveats apply as last time — I haven’t seen the comics from the last few weeks, which gives me a bit of a headache when Robin gets his Suicide Squad advance comps and the issue in question (#4, in stores now) cross-references an important plot point in a Checkmate issue I’ve yet to see. So a lot of these observations will be about the issue prior to the one most comic fans have already seen, but in most cases the artists are the same.

Also, as before, I won’t cover every artist who did a good or serviceable job, just the ones I considered my very favorites of this most recent batch. Any omissions are not to be taken as an assumption that I didn’t like other stuff. And yes, I’m still talking more about how the art affected me viscerally than using technical vocabulary, which makes these more overviews than reviews per se. I miss full-on reviewing, but I just don’t seem to have the time any more.

While I stopped at the letter "F" last time, I wanted to mention a couple books which hadn’t come out at the time. Onward, then:

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The evolution of outrage, by Mike Gold

Running Press Book Publishers released a 1,200 page, 15 pound tome called The Completely MAD Don Martin, reprinting all the work Don Martin did for Mad Magazine, back when in the days Mad was a force to be reckoned with.

That means it upset our parents.

That function must necessarily pass from one venue to another. Mad pretty much owned that turf from its inception in 1954 until the mid-60s. It passed on to its own children: the underground cartoonists. They, in turn, begat Matt Groening. Remember when The Simpsons was going to bring down civilization as we knew it – you know, 18 seasons ago? Then Mike Judge and Beavis and Butthead were going to burn your house down. South Park was too obscene for late-night cable teevee. As Kurt Vonnegut (another candidate for this list) famously said: So it goes.

I first encountered Don Martin when I was eight years old: my sister had discovered Mad and I had discovered my sister’s comics stash. Whereas his artistic style was in the spirit of the time, sort of Virgil Partch crossed with Basil Wolverton, his intrinsic bizarreness leapt off the page and attached itself to my obdula oblongata. It shaped my worldview… which probably explains a lot.

The feature was called “The Paper-Pickers” and it was about two sanitation workers picking up scrap in the park. One is a virtuoso of his craft who can spear paper with aplomb. The other is jealous. Why, I don’t know. The virtuoso is doing all the work; the other guy is just taking a walk on a nice summer day. But the competitive spirit prevails, and the also-ran flips out, spears the virtuoso to death and stuffs him in his refuse bag with a smile of evil satisfaction that would frighten Hannibal Lecter after a nice meal. (more…)

House of Clay: Review

Naomi Nowak is a cartoonist resident in Sweden, of Hungarian-Polish ancestry, and presumably works in English, since this book doesn’t credit a translator. She is thus more cosmopolitan than most of us ever dream of being. This is her second graphic novel, after Unholy Kinship (which I haven’t seen).

My first impression is that Nowak must be influenced by P. Craig Russell and by manga – there are a lot of flowing layouts following ideas rather than action, and the delicacy of the figures and the flamboyance of some of the drawing is very reminiscent of Russell. But, given that she’s European, those may or may not be trustworthy comparisons. I can’t be sure what Nowak’s real influences are, but — looking at House of Clay — I do see what looks like a lot of manga and Russell in its DNA.

House of Clay has an atmosphere of unreality about it; Nowak’s style keeps the story from ever feeling completely real — it’s more like a fever dream or a retold legend. This is the story of one young woman, but it’s also a more primal story, an archetype, of all young women everywhere. (more…)

More Artistic Vocabulary, by Elayne Riggs

elayne100-5274740Well, I said I’d be back and, since there were a number of terms I didn’t recall until after last week’s column went live, I figured I’d take note of them this week while I still remember what more I wanted to say.

For instance, I can’t believe I neglected to talk about surface form versus underlying construction. I consider it one of the most important criteria for judging good comic book art. The more I learn about how visual storytelling is done, the pickier I find myself becoming when it comes to appreciating crafting level. Art doesn’t need to look polished to be of professional level (although my particular taste does lean more towards smooth and streamlined rather than blocky and rough). It just needs to show that the artist understands the rules about how things are logically built. It’s like any other creative endeavor — if you’re going to break the rules, you first need to prove you know what they are and are able to follow them.

I have to admit, not being an artist, that I’m not so sure about construction rules myself, certainly not enough to be able to articulate them for you the way my husband does for me. But I do know that one of the biggest mistakes many comic book readers make is confusing style with substance. When they judge a comic they’re usually looking at the final polish given to the work rather than judging what lies beneath that polish. And that’s understandable; if you don’t know how a piece of furniture is supposed to function in its environment, or even whether it’ll hold what it’s supposed to hold, you’re pretty much going to base your opinion of that furniture by how pretty it looks in the catalog or showroom.

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Graphic Novel Review: Del Rey Manga Round-Up, Part One

shugo1-8375909Let me be honest: I don’t know all that much about manga. I’ve read a few series (going back to Area 88 and Kamui, twenty years ago during the first attempt to bring manga to the US), but I’ve never really gone really deeply into the field. Well, I’m hoping to remedy that now. I’ve got a big pile of first volumes of various manga series, and I’ll be doing weekly reviews of about four of them at a time. (I’m aiming for Fridays; let’s see if I can hold to that schedule.)

We’ll start off with some books from Del Rey (all originally published by Kodasha in Japan), mostly aimed at young teenagers. (At least, all but one of these is marked “Teen: 13+,” but, from the content, I suspect the real Japanese readership, and possibly the American readership as well, is tweens to young teens.) This week’s batch also are primarily aimed at girls — I think.

First up is Shugo Chara!, which translates roughly to “Guardian Characters.” It’s by two women who work under the name Peach-Pit, and it’s about a fourth grader who discovers three eggs in her bed one morning.

Okay, I have to back up already. Amu, our heroine, is explicitly in fourth grade — we’re told that several times — though the structure of the school, and the maturity of the characters, would seem to put them more naturally in middle school. (Trust me; I’m the father of a fourth grader.) And, from an American perspective, it’s really bizarre that a story about fourth graders would be marketed to teens – or even tweens, as I suspect is actually the case here. In the US, kids generally only want to read about other kids their own age (maybe) or, preferably, a few years older. Fourth and fifth graders read stories about middle schoolers, middle schoolers read Sweet Valley High and the like, and high school students either stop reading for pleasure entirely or read stories about people in their twenties. Maybe, like so much else, that’s different in Japan – there is the well-known love of the small and cute there

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Cory Doctorow’s Futuristic Tales of the Here And Now #1: Review

Cory Doctorow is either very arrogant or very smart.

Anyone who knows Cory would dispute the first bit, but consider: he gives away all of his writing to readers for free. If you want to read his website at boingboing, by all means; if you want to download his novels, go to Cory’s website and do so, he encourages it and wants you to spread the word. And he expects that he will make money doing this, that his stuff is so good that people will send him money in one way or another. So he either is very arrogant about the quality of his work– or he knows something about the workings of the world that you don’t. Which makes him, if not very smart, then certainly a born science fiction writer. And since he does make money doing this, he’s certainly not dumb.

IDW has begun to adapt his shorter fiction pieces into comic book form, starting with 2004’s "Anda’s Game". You can read the story (for free, of course) here, so the question is: does it work in comics? It certainly does. Esteve Polls’s art reminds me of the work of various Filipino horror comics artists of the 70’s, and Dara Naraghi does a solid condensation and adaptation of Cory’s story. Give this book a shot– the stories are done in one issue, and it’s worth the time.

Disclaimer: I help package books for IDW, and in fact, I’m already late delivering the art for the Munden’s Bar trade paperback…

Cowpuncher cartoonist J.R. Williams, by Michael H. Price

williams-jr-out-our-way-01-3997422Great cultures yield great artists, and I’m not talking necessarily about Ancient Rome or the Renaissance periods of either Italy or Harlem. The cowboy culture of the Southwestern Frontier has spawned its share of artistry, from poets and musicians to painters and, yes, cartoonists.

Conventional wisdom holds that Charles M. Russell (1864-1926), was the most gifted of the Western cartoonists. Russell’s illustrated correspondence, as preserved at the Amon Carter Museum in Fort Worth, Texas, helps to shore up this belief. But Russell’s leanings toward the presumably finer arts prevented him from pursuing cartooning as a career.

A near-contemporary of Russell’s, James R. Williams (1888-1957), took a different tack, becoming a working cartoonist who based a long-running daily newspaper feature upon his younger days as a ranchhand. (more…)

Graphic Novel Review: Akira Club

You can tell how popular any particular media event or personage is by how many ancillary products emerge. Something really popular will metastasize into toothbrushes, sports cars, sleepwear, foodstuffs, architecture, and so on – the specifics depend on what the original piece was, and who the audience is, but the number of those products is a good guide to the popularity of its original.

Akira Club, thus, shows that Otomo Katsuhiro’s epic comics story [[[Akira]]] is at least moderately popular, at home in Japan and here in the USA. Akira was turned into a movie and had the usual small flood of licensed goods, and it was also thought worthy of a book to document all of the odds and ends – both the bits of art from the original serialization that didn’t make it into the collections, and some records of those many ancillary products.

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GRAPHIC NOVEL REVIEW: Some Greasy Kids Stuff

 

 

dinos-6479331Today I’ve got three books that either are for kids or look like they should be, so, if any of you are allergic to greasy kids stuff, just move on to the next post.

[[[Dinosaurs Across America]]] is the new book by Phil Yeh, who has spent the last two decades promoting literacy and art across the world in various ways, including lots of comics. In fact, this book was originally a black-and-white comic that was sold at various Yeh events. It’s a quick look at all fifty states in the US, with a concentration on quick facts and learning all of the capitals. One of Yeh’s recurring characters, Patrick Rabbit, has been suckered, and a group of dinosaurs (also recurring Yeh characters) set him straight on the real facts. There’s no real story here, but it’s a great book for kids interested in state capitals or geography in general. (Or even for kids who aren’t interested in that, but need to learn some of it.)

 

korgi-2421365

 

[[[Korgi]]], Book 1 is the first in what’s planned to be a series of all-ages wordless comics stories. It’s by Christian Slade, and seems to be his first major comics work. It’s cute and fun and adventurous by turns, though the wordlessness doesn’t always help with a fantasy story like this. (The dogs, such as Korgi, are obvious Special somehow, but it’s hard to convey the specifics of something like that without words.) This is perhaps pitched a bit older than Andy Runton’s [[[Owly]]] books – also wordless comics stories from Top Shelf for all ages – simply because there’s more action and suspense in Korgi. (There’s certainly nothing here I’d worry about giving to my six-year-old.) Slade uses a lot of scribbly lines for shading and tones, and – especially after reading James Sturm’s America recently – that looks a bit amateur to me. Slade is very good at it, but it does leave an impression of lots and lots of little lines all over the page; it would be interesting to see him use other ways of showing tone and shading, and concentrate on drawing just a few, bolder, stronger lines. Or maybe not; he gets some great effects with his many lines, creating clouds and rocks and monsters that come to vivid life on the page.

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DENNIS O’NEIL: On Writing Comics, Part Two

Last week, before I so rudely interrupted us, we were discussing the merits of writing comic books using the “full script” method, in which the writer produces a first cousin to a movie script, with visual directions as well as dialogue and other verbal stuff. Now, we should examine he advantages of working in what has come to be called the “Marvel style.” With this method, you will remember, the writer first does a plot and the penciller renders this into a visual narrative. That’s conveyed to the writer who then adds dialogue and captions and, often, indicates where the balloons and captions should be placed by drawing them onto copies of the artwork.

The main one is that, if the penciller is a good storyteller, he can do the writer’s work for him by figuring out pacing and kinds of shots. When Marvel’s Stan Lee adopted this way of operating, he was working with such as Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko, men who were already masters of their craft. Stan didn’t have to worry about such bothers as a boring but vital plot element being eliminated or the pacing of the story being off so that a lot if crammed into the last pages, maybe not leaving enough room for copy. And – when you work with really good artists there’s always the possibility that they’ll improve on your visual storytelling. They will, in other words, make you look good and who doesn’t like that?

When I first worked for Stan in the 60s, our plots were pretty terse, a couple-three paragraphs or even less. But remember, we were usually collaborating with highly experienced artists. When I last left Marvel, in 1986, the plots were generally much longer and closely detailed.

Then there’s Doug Moench, whose plots for 22-page comic books might run 25 pages and include swatches of dialogue. I once asked Doug why he didn’t just do full scripts and save himself some hassle. His reply was that sometimes art inspired him, gave him a character twist or bit of dialogue he would not have thought of otherwise. And this procedure also functions as a fail-safe mechanism – if something isn’t in the art that needs to be there, or if something is unclear, Doug can write to remedy the problem.

Here, my friends, we have a man who is both conscientious and a complete pro.

For a while some years ago, the Marvel style ruled – or at least would have won popularity contests. Now, I’m told by working comic bookers, the full-plot method is much the favored. I don’t know why. It might have something to do with the fact that now, as in the past, deadlines are a major editorial hair-grayer and the full script method is a tiny bit easier to manage because it involves fewer exchanges of material and maybe a little less paperwork. Or maybe, like so much else, these things are determined by evolutionary cycles I can’t quite wrap my brain around.

RECOMMENDED READING: Beowulf, translated by Seamus Heaney

Dennis O’Neil is an award-winning editor and writer of comic books like Batman, The Question, Iron Man, Green Lantern and/or Green Arrow, and The Shadow, as well as all kinds of novels, stories and articles.