The Future of Comics

This week I read both Stand Still Stay Silent and Strong Female Protagonist. Web-comics opens up a new venture in the comics medium. It’s accessible to a wider range of audience, and the content that is created is not necessarily restricted by companies/publishers. The work in both these web comics are reflective of a more artist focused schedule and experimentation. One of my favorite things about Stand Still Stay Silent is the limited color palette and the use of a narrative that builds from a prologue set in the past before going into the post-apocalyptic future.  

The other comic, Strong Female Protagonist is a standard superhero comic that ends up being a more focused on the coming of age portion in college (and the fears of the having powers around people who don’t). It also puts a slight twist on the genre with her having a celebrity status beforehand (and with no secret identity to boot). The web comic that both of these stories are in are easy to navigate/user friendly. The advantage of this format is that it invites readers in without the overwhelming nature of finding issues and it can allow direct conversation with the creator through the comments section (which can be a blessing or a curse). Another advantage of the web comic format is the almost binge quality nature of it (this varies from story to story). Instead of having to wait monthly or bi-monthly for an issue, comics would update almost weekly. 

For the web comic that I have found, is Sabrina Cotugno’s The Glass Scientists. Not only is the art really appealing, but the story takes a twist on the classic Victorian era fictitious science stories, with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde as one of the main protagonists. It has been running for about four years now, and has a continuous storyline. A big plus to this being a web-comic (or without the restrictions of mainstream publication) is that the main cast of characters are diverse. 

Web comics are very much the future of the comics industry, as long as it keeps its creative synergy and creative freedom. 

Superheroes Reconsidered

The comics that I have decided to read for this week is Black Panther World of Wakanda and some pages from the Christopher Priest collection of Black Panther. To be upfront the comics were definitely not very much like the movie, at least in tone. Christopher Priests run had some bitingly funny moments (like the very first page, with Ross on the toilet). The stories themselves tended to be darker, and in the case of the World of Wakanda issue that I read, Black Panther hadn’t shown up (instead, focusing on the side characters and world building). There is a deeper understanding of the character when the world is fleshed out and the people writing the scripts know what they are writing about which  gives a more authentic representation that didn’t exist at the beginning.

 Comics like Black Panther are important to the continuation of comics and the continuation of making comics that can appeal to anyone other than the white heterosexual man. It expands readership, content, and inspires others to tell their stories. For that, reconsidering the superhero, especially in our time, is essential both for new stories and as a step towards cultural/social representation in media. Superheroes should reflect our current days, and, in my opinion, should offer a hope towards a brighter future. This isn’t always the case, and with Alan Moore’s work, the characters are more human than super, virtues and vices and all. Which, with the right characters, is a fantastic way to delve into the psychology and deeper societal themes. 

Comics by Women

The comic that I had read for this week is Fun Home by Alison Bechdel. I had previous known about this work from the stage musical adaptation of it, but was curious about the original comic (I had no idea it was a comic beforehand). For me, personally, it was hard for me to pin point my exact feelings towards the work. At, to an extent, I think that’s the point. Alison Bechdel is trying to come to terms with her father’s suicide, his repressed sexuality (and the not great stuff that came along with that), and her own coming to terms with her growing sexuality. It’s messy, and deeply personal, and doesn’t try to completely justify the behaviors of her father. Instead the comic calls back to the confessional comics movement, where the comics were built as a cathartic way of examining one’s self. 

 Fun Home is then more than a recollection of the past, but a way to make sense of it in order to continue forward. A part of what I think makes Fun Home important in comics in general is the raw honesty and a dry humor that is interwoven throughout the narrative. It deals with topics that underground comics dealt with, but now it is more mainstream and so forth reaches a wider audience with more critical acclamation. It’s a reading that gives strength, and also shows how internalized homophobia can hurt a person deeply. The people within Fun Home are tragically human, and I find that to be its most appealing quality. 

Comics as Contemporary Literature

For this reading I chose My Favorite Thing is Monsters, mostly because I thought the illustrative work on the backdrop of a notebook was really cool. At first the reading was a bit daunting, as it was walls and walls of text. However, the use of bulky text along with the ballpoint illustrations gives the graphic novel a personal, diary quality.

 Because of this, the story in it of itself felt like I was reading something personal. It’s also interesting that the main character that we follow is one of the few that are truly depicted as a monster (whereas everyone else seems to be very humanoid with more grotesque/caricatured features). It almost feels like the narrator/author of the “diary” views themselves as a monster (though not necessarily in a negative light). 

In fact, a lot of the true monsters were depicted as being entirely human (the lady at the diner telling a character that he didn’t belong there, or the two men with ill intentions who had jumped out of the car towards a woman walking down the street). My Favorite Thing is Monsters is experimental in format, and manages to work in a way that I feel like only works with this type of story and art. The use of iconic imagery in the horror genre is important in connecting the audience further with the story. Recognizing how vampires behave, or how movie monsters in general behave gives the audience a point of reference that grounds the story (even if the main character is a monster, it’s still realistically portrayed). 

Manga and the Japanese Comics Tradition

When reading Osamu Tezuka’s work, I am reminded of how influential his work has been on the content that had inspired me to go into animation. So, when reading his work, it’s almost like going back to the roots. Astro Boy was the work I was most familiar with, so I ended up reading his Buddha series. What I found interesting about it is that there is an overall serious tone to the novel, but there is also a very distinct Disney feeling or reference at the very beginning, with the designs of the forest animals. Of course, when the rabbit sacrifices himself as food, it becomes apparent that the story is much more geared towards adults. 

This is a distinction that I find to be becoming more common in western comics/animation as a result of manga influence. In which more mature themes are being explored/discussed in ways and styles that were originally deemed as too child orientated. Tezuka’s work is stylistically appealing and is iconic in the designs of the characters (especially with the use of the big eyes, which is heavily prevalent in manga/anime). 

I had actually read manga before reading comics. I had also watched anime in the form of Pokémon before venturing into other cartoons and forms of media. It’s a part of my childhood that has continued to inspire to push forward with artistic ventures. 

Wide World of Comics

For this assignment, I ended up reading Moebius 1 Upon a Star. I had been introduced to Moebius through art assignments and still images, but hadn’t actually read the comics that the images were from. One of my favorite aspects of the Moebius comic is how richly developed the world is, along with the simplicity (and yet detailed) of the art. The use of science fiction in this comic can be seen as highly influential of modern day science fiction (especially in its visuals of urban decay, and bright-almost pastel color scheme). One of my favorite visuals/aspects is when the main character hooks his mind to the ship in order to pilot it. It’s a concept that I’ve seen in later sci-fi works, that I semi-wonder if these works were inspired by Moebius. 

Something that I also appreciated about Upon a Star was the scope of the work, in which the characters are driving the plot in a way where we get a payoff for previous events. The characters are interesting, and relatable (there is one moment when a character has just cooked, and when Stel shows up with dirt all over him, the other character just says you can’t eat with dirty hands, and the next panel shows them eating with Stel cleaned up. It reminded me of how my parents would chastise my sister and I if we showed up to the dinner table without washing our hands first). It was a small moment in a large sci-fi adventure that made the story feel more grounded.

Stereotyping

The use of stereotyping in animation (or in entertainment in general), acts as a negative conduct of association. There is a tendency to visually connect certain aspects of one’s character, and the connotations behind them. Stereotypes are generally rooted in ethnic, racial, homophobia, etc. in order to cast people as “the others”. It’s harmful to those who are affected by it because it “justifies” the phobias and racism (even those labeled as a “joke”). There was a push in animation to use various caricature features to make a character “recognizable”, however this is starting to be said less and less. Instead stereotypes are starting to mean actions or situations that are instantly recognizable to the audience (still not entirely great).

There are instances of satirical stereotyping, and for those it’s best to look at what those who are being satirized are saying. It’s important to read works of fiction that are made by people who are not in the white, heteronormative space. March, by John Lewis is a good example of how racial stereotyping is not needed in any capacity. The story recounts John Lewis life and eventual political career sparked by the Civil Rights movement. The comic expresses how deeply racism has and still to this day impacts our society (both socially and structurally). I loved March for this, and also for how visually beautiful the novel was. The people were portrayed with relative realism (with some hints of cartooning). It contrasts with Will Eisner’s theory of using stereotypes; the little old white lady is not a kind grandmother, but instead a racist who runs out of the bathroom (March, Book One, pg. 95).  

Assessment

The Killing Joke - Assessment

1. I find that The Killing Joke works as a self contained story that I think is well written in the deconstruction of the relation between Batman and the Joker. The philosophy behind the words is something that I feel is distinctively Alan Moore, especially towards the end. I did find its treatment of Barbara Gordon to be unnecessary, taking away her agency within the story to further Joker and Batman's story. I'm not entirely sure if Alan Moore/DC comics had intended this story to be canon, but writers had tried their best after this story to give Barbara her story back through Oracle. Over all, I think the artwork and the uses of visual transitions between the present and the "past"was effective in communicating the story.

2. The connections I find within the story is Alan Moores social commentary (especially in regards to poverty) with how the Jokers "origin" story plays out- in reflection to how he is able to twist his words in order to justify his actions (much like how he said in the documentary about being magicians). The unreliable narrator coupled with an ambiguous ending is part of the dystopian aspect of the story in which the visuals don't always match up with the words being said, connecting to what Alan Moore had said about doing things that only comics (and not film) could do (even though there are cinematic transitions when going into flashbacks). The coloring of the story blends the surreal, almost pop art version of the comic with the grittier realism that was dominant at the time. This connects the work to previous incarnations (1960s Jokers design pops up on the monitor).

3. If I were to adapt the story into another medium, it would be animation, as I find that the adaptation of superhero comics works better in animation that live action. I would not, however, take the not super great route that DC had done. I would give more story agency to Barbara, or at least make her arc more important at large than just tacked on to continue to excuse the point that she doesn't do much later on aside from furthering everyone else in the story. Or, focus on a different crime that the Joker could commit that furthers his "point", and drives that narrative to the ambiguous ending. I would keep as close to the artwork and transitions as possible, as I find the work to be visually strong enough to hold its own. I would also change some of the carnival scenes/characters, or at least try and explain where they came from? Because they just showed up out of nowhere? Having goons that are carnival themed is fine, but I feel like it should have been established sooner.

Maus

Art Spiegelman’s Maus is a hard read. Not in the sense of understanding, or from the palatability of the drawings in relation to the subject. It’s a hard read because it’s not afraid to be ugly, nor is it sugarcoating the first-hand experience, and the strain between the father and the son. Maus switches back and forth between the past and the present, as Art wants to create a graphic novel based on his fathers, and mothers (to an extent, he would have gotten her stories from the diary that ended up getting burned) and we see that graphic novel spill out as the father narrates. What is perhaps really interesting of this account, is how Spiegelman composes each narration as a conversation in the present, before only the fathers side of the conversation takes over. The father himself is contrasted between how he is portrayed in the past and how he is in the present (though his narration remains constant). We see how what had happened to him changed him as a person (a change that not even other survivors could comprehend). But that is where the disconnect between the father and the son are very apparent. It’s not a matter them yelling at each other, it’s the matter of the son questioning why his father never spends money, or why he couldn’t just buy a new wire rather than keep one from the street. Even though the father indirectly explains the reasoning for this change in behavior (through his stories of his past), the son doesn’t seem to entirely grasp the event. Is that entirely fair to Art? No, not at all. Even the feelings of comparison between himself and Richieu. But the comic itself (and Art Spiegelman) never gives us a direct answer to this. In some ways, the double autobiographic nature of this novel gives us no distinct “right” perspective and “wrong” perspective. People are people here, even if they are drawn as mice, pigs, or cats. 

The literary nature of Maus makes the graphic novel feel more like reading a written novel than just a comic strip. Events are foreshadowed from the beginning, and the specificity of the character’s words and actions makes the work feel relatable. You’re right there with each story, and there were many points where I felt my skin crawl and tears in my eyes. It hurts, because Art Spiegelman made sure that the people being depicted were as true to life, and that you felt like you were right there in the story as well. It’s subtle, but built beautifully. 

Maus is a body of work that is important not only artistically, but also culturally. It approaches the Holocaust with steady realism. The art is illustrated with a simple render, and the black and white crosshatching gives the work moments to depict the bleakness with harsher and darker pen strokes. It’s a rendition that speaks to us at the highest concept, and for that Maus  does earn the regards as one  of the best graphic novels ever written. 

Underground Comics

The underground comics movement revels in adult humor and topics. Reading Zap and the Gay Comics collection, it’s apparent that the underground comics allowed creators that weren’t straight, white, and male to have a chance at letting their voices be heard (at least in the Gay Comics, Zap leaned more into the racism and sexism). The range of styles (from highly detailed to cruder drawings), and of the stories (from coming out, to humor, to dealing with internalized homophobia). While sex may have been a large focus in those comics, they were never really depicted as something abnormal, or at least they were shown to be in support to what the writers and artists were trying to express. In contrast to Zap, the sexuality of the characters was used as mainly a fodder for jokes that relied on stereotypes. In all honesty, I didn’t find Zap to be funny, and instead gravitated to the stories that were written by those who didn’t necessarily fit societies norm. Did I also find some of the stories funny? No, but I did appreciate the sincerity and dry wit that made the stories more compelling. 

In terms of the nature of the underground comics, I find that the strips who try too hard to be offensive (one particular one is from Tits and Clits, in which the artists try to juxtapose the rape with almost romantic undertones, that did not work at all), to be almost less bold than the ones that try to add some form of subtleness into their stories. It might be a matter of taste situation, but one thing is certain. The cultural impact of the underground comics might have helped pave the way to loosening the fear of the comics code in creators. And to ultimately fight against the censorship that society has put in place. 

Eisner and Thompson

The works of Will Eisner and Craig Thompson are sometimes non-existent, but sometimes uncannily parallel to each other. The similarities between the two graphic novels (Eisners Dropsie Avenue and Thompsons Blankets) are mostly due to Eisners lasting impressions in the comics world. Both graphic novels take a more autobiographical approach (Blankets more so), which makes both stories seem like documentations of a past they are trying to comprehend. The structure of both stories is set up in a way where the drawings support the text that is given. The drawing approaches are similar in construction, but not in design. Meaning that both works tended to break out of the confines of the panel, but are drawn in styles that are unique to the artist’s hand. For me, this makes the work feel more alive and in the moment, as each drawing bleeds into one another. The subject matters for both stories are also more mature. Violence (especially in Esiners work), and abuse are laid out to the audience in a way that can be stomached but not necessarily ignored. This gives the body of work a sort of message that Eisner and Thompson feel needs to be said. It makes both Blankets and Dropsie Avenue feel like a concentrated place with relatable and very realistic situations. There’s no real sugar coating, but the works don’t drown in complete cynicism either. There are moments in Dropsie Avenue where people are happy (getting married, etc.), and there are moments in Blankets where the fondness of a person and a memory are explored (his brother, and the girl that was his first love). These moments are what bring a dimensionality to the work that wouldn’t exist without them.  

The Early Comic Book

The early comic books stretched across many genres, and the beginnings of the comic panels laid out in a format that wasn’t solely duplicated boxes was beginning to emerge. Text in the early comic books were still largely heavy, but the art was becoming more dynamic and synonymous to the text that was happening (nothing was just gag related or drawn out illustrations). Each panel is gaining more depth, with the drawings adding a layer of depth. The use of color as a means of storytelling becomes more experimental (especially in Tales of the Crypt as a means of injecting more horror into the story). 

The biggest difference that emerged between the comic strip and the comic book was the condensed serialized stories that came within an issue rather than waiting for the next installment each week in the paper. 

Tin Tin is an example of a contained story that mixes gags with a story that also mixes a small form of drama (or at least a conflict that provides multiple challenges for the protagonists). For example, the story Explorers on the Moon has multiple space related gags (the whiskey turning into a ball, the idea of anti-gravity, etc.) but is grounded in the rocket and the conflicts that can arise from it.  EC comics, on the other hand, rely on very little (to no) gags, and instead the conflicts are rooted in the horror genre-where non-graphic violence is depicted in a way that was not meant to be a joke (as opposed to the more rubber-hose slapstick violence of some comic strips).

The early comic book was experimental. It pushed genre, and narrative boundaries that seemed to mix the drawn-out stories of the likes of Tarzan, with the visual appeal of more humorous strips. 

The Comics Strip

The comic strip is usually about a page or a few short sequences on roughly a page length. Generally, there is a set-up, a rising action, and then the pay off. Krazy Kat, Peanuts, Little Nemo, and Calvin and Hobbes, are four examples of popular comics news strips of the 20^th century. It should be noted that the comics news strip is largely reprinted stories today. 

The comic strip relies on a basic premise that is then exaggerated or used as a joke within the story. An example of exaggeration would be Calvin and Hobbes and Little Nemo (in Slumberland), with both of which focusing on a mundane aspect of life (In Little Nemo’s case, sleeping, and consequentially dreaming) and using surrealism to capture a childlike-or dreamlike moment. On the flip side, stories like Krazy Kat and Peanuts, while uses some form of exaggeration (especially with Krazy Kats surrealism), relies on structure to tell a joke. Krazy Kat is structured around the same joke with variations, while Peanuts uses simple aspects of life to form a punchline by the end.

These two sort of groups of comic strips are kind of what makes up the appeal of the comic strip. Many of these strips were placed in newspapers, and cultivated this appeal of the everyman, or at least it finds some grounding in the real world. The comic strip was, in some cases, a place where dry humor and wit could find a home, and where the characters can exist in a world vaguely our own, thus allowing us to place ourselves in their shoes.

Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud

  Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics explores how to read and process the visual narratives of comics. Towards the end it also explains the creation process, essentially the idea and fundamentals of a comic outweighs the technical skills of writing or drawing. This process is very similar to animation (in which story is king).

  However, a major point that McCloud made (though much of what he talked about is inherently important to the functionality of comics) is the “visual iconography”. McCloud explains visual iconography as a way we view and distill images through a sequence of events. Our brains are able to connect two similar events within two separate panels. The idea of visual iconography also relates to how we perceive what a face is, with the simplest version being the most appealing-if not the most iconic. A reasoning for this is because our own conditioning to see faces in everything (all of which we put our personal selves into to relate, as Scott McCloud states), and from a modern perspective, growing up watching cartoons has impacted how we expect faces to be drawn. The way we interpret visual imagery is described by McCloud as, “received information”, in that we can instinctively understand what we may be looking at (as long as it’s clear and iconic). This is contrasted by writing, which is “perceived information”. Whereas art is a more universal construct, writing depends on language-context-and even social norms.

  This point that McCloud makes is important to understanding comics because it’s a concept that isn’t really thought about as being a way to reach an audience, or which audience you would want to reach out to. Knowing whether your story should be rendered realistically, or not can determine how your audience will relate to the characters (i.e. watching the character, or placing themselves into the character). It is also important to know how to bridge the gap between the written word and the visual language of comics. Communicating how simply a drawing should be done, for instance, can make the comic more cohesive as a whole. 

The Arrival by Shaun Tan

The Arrival by Shaun Tan is the story of an immigrant told through the lens of the other worldliness of the fantasy genre. An important aspect of the engine that drives this story, is the absence of words. 

Perhaps, one of the reasons why the wordless-ness of The Arrival works is because it acts as a representation of not only being in an environment where others may not understand you, but also in an environment where others are not willing to hear you. One part of the story sees the protagonist covered with labels. He can’t hear what is being told to him in the second panel on the first row. By the eighth panel he holds up a picture of his family, almost to explain himself or to wonder where they are. Who he is talking to seems to not have an answer for the protagonist, leaving the protagonist upset and stressed. This entire exchange between the protagonist and the unidentified person he is talking to is powerful in the way that body language replaces the “need” for words. Not only his body language, but his facial expressions throughout the narrative tells as much of a story. 

However, probably one of the best uses of silence in the story is when the protagonist is reunited with his family. The last six panels before the final splash page of chapter five shows the protagonist calling out to his wife and daughter. He drops the suitcase and his hat flies off. We know this is a moment of joy, not because we are told, but because of the way the protagonist runs forward in almost desperation, while the daughter turns to look at the sound of her father’s voice with joy. The final splash page is an aerial view where the absence of thought boxes from the character’s perspective, or sound effects, makes the moment of reconnection tender, if not emotionally private. 

Another example of the use of body and visual language in The Arrival is when the protagonist encounters other immigrants and they recount their own journeys. War among others are rendered in darker tones, signifying the oppression and fear. In the second immigrant story, when the husband and wife are running away, the intensity of the splash page (with the people getting sucked up into the incinerator back packs) uses visual metaphors to create a sense of panic without the use of sound effects for the vacuums or the screaming of the people running away. The silence allows the page to breathe, as the full impact of what is happening isn’t covered up. 

The absence of sound in a narrative like The Arrival allows the reader to concentrate on the imagery, thus creating their own form of sound and dialogue. It’s a way to connect the reader with the protagonist by allowing the reader to possibly place their own experiences in the narrative. 

And as they always seem to say, a picture is worth a thousand words.