Week Fifteen: Revision

Revised post from "Week Seven: The Legitimation of Comics".

This week, I read volumes 1 & 2 of Maus, by Art Spiegelman. Having never read it before, it became clear to me now why it is considered such an important memoir by many. Maus is a digestible, hard-hitting and very real work by a cartoonist who is documenting the tales of his grandfather who was a Jewish prisoner in Auschwitz during WWII. For many, it is sometimes hard to find documents of the war that don't sound so wholly gruesome and unbelievable that it almost seems like a work of fiction. To someone who has never experienced the horrors of war, there can be a disconnect between fictional stories about war and how it actually happened. It can be terribly hard to relate the reality of what happens in war because it's so gruesome that it seems like it can't possibly be fact.

However, Maus does a great job of making the war seem like something real that happened and affected the people involved as well as their posterity. Because it is told from the eyes of the narrator hearing the story retold from his grandfather, it emulates the experience of the war stories seeming like some far-off, unreal thing. At the same time, however, hearing it told from the narrator's grandfather kind of reminds the reader of hearing it from their own grandfather, and can further the relatability of the story.

I think another victory of these comics are the way the characters are represented visually in the book. The characters are different races of animals-- mice, pigs, cats-- representing the ethnicity of the characters. It drives home the point of discrimination and categorization by the Nazis home in a very simple way by doing this. As well as this, by turning the characters into cartoonish animals, it gives the story a level of accessibility that I don't think it would have with human characters, had the animals be specific caricatures of the people they represent. With such little identifying features separating them, the reader is able to project themselves and/or their family into the roles of the characters in Maus. I think this feature helps give the comic the level of accessibility it needs in order to reach such a wide audience, as it did.

Week Fourteen: The Future of Comics

"Ant Comic" by Michael Deforge, from kingtrash.com

If you ask anyone in my generation who is into comics what helped them maintain their interest in comics, often they will say that they've read webcomics their whole life. Growing up in the 90's as we did, the print comics industry was waning, and a lot of people were declaring comics to be 'dying'. What a lot of people didn't anticipate though, I think, was the emerging venue of the internet. A lot of people found that the internet was an easy, cheap way to showcase your artwork and have a lot of people be able to see it (at the catch of more risky copyright issues). As print comics were largely expensive and inaccessible to most people, a lot of people started putting up their comics on the internet. As print comics died down a bit, kids like me started to read comics on the internet-- the place where we spent most of our time.

This week I read Ant Colony/Ant Comic by Michael Deforge. Deforge is a small-press cartoonist who is one of my favorite comic artists working today. He tells his stories with a very serious tone which blends unusually well with the strange-yet-humorous visual style and subject matter. Deforge is an example of a comic artist who has a lot of comics on the internet, webcomic strips, and print comics from which he makes his living. Some of my favorites besides Ant Comic are Lose (an annual anthology which is now on it's sixth issue), Sticks Angelica (an online strip that is ongoing), Abbey Loafer, First Year Healthy, and Spotting Deer. I always recommend him to anyone looking to get into small-press or indie comics.

Week Thirteen In-class Post: Alan Moore & "Promethea"

The comic "Promethea" is one whose narrative is tightly wound with a storyline told much like a myth. Because of this, the authors utilize the idea of the symbol to convey the significance of the myth throughout the main narrative. the symbol that stands out to me to me the most is definitely the sun motif that is present on every single page. It's hard to miss; and initially it seems to represent the idea of Promethea's overarching significance as a type of god figure. When you look closer you can tell that there are two types of sun motifs used. One style, an older-looking, more natural-colored sun signifies that the story is in flashback mode, showing Promethea's beginnings; the other style is brighter and newer-looking, and signifies that the story is now taking place in the present tense.

I found it interesting that the authors were able to tie in the ancient mythology into a present-tense, modern setting. Utilizing connections between the past and the future alone I think furthers the relatability of this story. Often I find that stories told in a 'mythological' style that take place hundreds of years ago are harder to connect with, as they seem so alien. I enjoyed seeing how the troubles of the Promethea of the past-- religious visions and demonic curses-- clashed with the modern-day troubles encountered by Sophie, that is, dealing with the crude way her friends talk and the stress that comes with dealing with people who are much older than you. I always like a story that features primarily female leads also, which is not something you often see.

I could honestly probably enjoy the story a lot more in another medium. I'm not entirely partial to the art style that the story is drawn in-- I love superhero comics such as Hellboy but even then, Hellboy's art style is one that I think is pretty innovative in this specific genre. A lot of superhero comics these days have been very successfully adapted to action movies, and I think Promethea would be a perfect source material to adapt a movie from. There's a lot of movies that are being made right now set in biblical times (for example, exodus) and I think Promethea fits snugly into that genre, while also bringing a female superhero lead character as well as nonwhite characters to the table of the superhero movie adaption genre. If I were to make changes to the comic itself, I'd probably redraw it in such a way that is much less dated than it looks to me-- though I'm always more partial to strange or more interesting comic styles.

Week Twelve: Comics by Women

This week we discussed any and all comics made by women, and the history behind women in comics. I read This One Summer by Mariko and Jillian Tamaki, one of the best comics released this year, in my opinion. Jillian and Mariko are kind of a cousin-team who have made a graphic novel in the past, Skim, and Jillian has experience keeping up her own comic strip, Super Mutant Magic Academy.

 This One Summer is a young girl's story about two tweens who spend their summers together near a lake in Canada, in vacation homes with their families. It's a story meant for young girls and for women who remember what it's like to be a young girl trying to figure things out (so, pretty much all of us). Comics made by women are very important, which goes without saying. The Tamaki's story is one that carries great cultural significance so far in the wake of its release.

The story is one that would probably have never been written or drawn by a man, either-- nor would many women be interested in reading such a story if written by a man, for what do they know about it? This is the basis of why comics by women are so important and can't be overlooked as unimportant compared to their male counterparts. Often, the subject matter written and drawn about (female-centered) can often not be compared to a male-centered story, they are two different things. The same goes for stories written by and for the LGBT community, by and for people of different races and nationalities, and so on. As widely acclaimed as a story can be, a comic is often never going to hit every mark as far as audience, so diversity continues to be very important.

On the other side of the coin, it's important to consider these stories as carrying the same amount of weight as stories written by white men, and not just 'niche' comics kept solely for the sake of diversity. Often it's a faux-pas to spend time in interviews with women creators, asking what it's 'like' to be a woman creator working in that field. Male counterparts never get asked this question, and instead get asked questions that delve deeper into the genius of their work. Spending time asking women what it's like to be a woman takes away from time that could be spent revealing the greatness of their work. Even in this day and age, women creators often get glossed over and many times have to work twice as hard to get recognized!

For this reason, I love This One Summer and the impact it's had on the literary community since its release. I always recommend it to my friends and anyone interested in graphic novels. I've even been in a panic a couple times over not remembering who I lent it to (my copy is signed by the Tamakis themselves)...

Week Eleven: Comics as Contemporary Literature

This week we discussed the idea of the graphic novel putting it's foot on the door of sophisticated literature. For a long time comics were not considered 'real' literature, as a novel was. However, over time the graphic novel found it's way into a type of storytelling so sophisticated that it's impossible to deny its literary importance. Some graphic novels have been written with such deep attention to the media that their story is being told in that many argue that these stories are ones that could not be told effectively in any other medium besides sequential art.

 The required reading was Asterios Polyp, by David Mazzucchelli, which I enjoyed quite a bit-- it's probably the best graphic novel I've read in years. I found deeply immersed in the book, not even finding my mind wander or wondering when the story was going to be over at any point in the book. I didn't feel that the story faltered at all, and it kept my attention.

There are a couple elements of this book that I think really bump it to the next level as far as being considered literature. What really caught me was the way that Mazzucchelli weaved visual narrative into the written narrative to create a sort of 'layered' storytelling. As the narrator spoke of the inevitable isolation one feels by never being able to truly 'mesh' with another's personality or lived experiences, Mazzucchelli used different styles of drawing the characters and environment that corrollated with what kind of person that character was. As two characters began to get along, their auras started to mesh-- if one was jolted to reality by a harsh example of the other's specific forthcomings, they were sent right back into their original, unaltered style. The artist didn't overuse this, either; it felt like he knew exactly where and when to implement this sensation. 

I think this well-done added layer of narrative-- a visual one that the reader is able to control the timing of-- is a big part of what prompted people to start considering graphic novels to have their own seat in the literary world.

Week Ten: Introduction to Manga

Illustration of Taiyo Matsumoto's Sunny

This week we discussed manga, the blanket term for Japanese comics. I've read manga since I was in middle school, and I credit it for getting me back into comics for the first time since I was a young kid, as well as getting me so deeply into comics that I now make comics myself. Since then I've started reading many more contemporary American and European indie and small-press comics, but I know it all started in manga.

Manga has an interesting stigma in the US. Even though many, many people in my generation who are now interested in comics grew up reading manga, many people belonging to older generations consider it immature or just a bad form of art, especially in the art school community. I remember one of the times when I was first visiting Ringling, I mentioned to an instructor that I really liked comics, and when he asked me which comics I liked I couldn't bring myself to give an answer, because all I would have listed were manga and even though they were great comics, I knew that he would have either laughed at me or told me that if I wanted to be serious, I'd better drop the manga. Others had already mentioned this to me, and I was well aware. Nobody took you seriously if you drew manga.

Something was mentioned earlier in the semester that I found really interesting. It was pointed out that, unlike American comics, in Japanese comics there are huge, entire genres of comics made solely for women and girls of all ages. In America, the most manga sold of any genre is shoujo manga, the genre of love stories targeted at girls. I think it's very telling of the audience that the American comic industry favors, and why manga is so overwhelmingly popular in today's upcoming generations-- woman want to read stories about women!

Some of my favorite creators making manga and anime today are comic artist Taiyo Matsumoto and animator & director Masaaki Yuasa. They both have a very unique but beautiful style that they like to create in, and at times have collaborated to create amazing works. Matsumoto has authored many successful stories, such as Sunny, GoGo Monster, and Tekkonkinkreet (now adapted into an animated movie). Yuasa has worked on different anime series and movies such as Kemonozume, Kaiba, Kick Heart, and Mind Game. Even with such unique styles, the visual languages of the two work together exceedingly well, and recently they collaborated on a show called Ping Pong the Animation. The show is based off of the 5-volume series by Matsumoto, and was adapted and directed by Yuasa. It's easily the best television show I've seen in a very long time. The two creators are very contemporary and I'm glad that their work is starting to get more popular. They're often my go-to examples for when people try and argue that manga and anime are super homogenous and never differ in style.

Week Nine: Wide World of Comics

The European comics scene is one that I wish so hard that I could have been more aware of by now. There's a huge world of comics (for instance, Hergé's works) that I have no idea about, because they don't have as much of a place in American comics culture, like Japanese comics do, for instance. I want to learn French essentially so that I can read French comics, and also talk to French cartoonists about their work. There are even a ton of French cartoonists who put their work on their blogs that are just astounding. Many people say that America is the comics capital but I would argue that the French comic industry is on par or even better on a national scale.

This week I chose to revisit a comic I read a little while ago, and still sticks with me today: Notes for a War Story, by the Italian cartoonist Gipi. What jumped out at me first about this comic was how different it is from the typical American war comic. Notes for a War Story is definitely a war comic, no doubt about it, it's right there in the title. But not only did it capture my attention for more than a few pages, if at all (something that near never happens with American war comics), but I loved it. As I said before, it stays with me to this day as a go-to recommendation I will give people who are looking for this kind of comic. I still think of it when thinking of writing great graphic novels of my own.

There are a few reasons I think that this story means so much more to me than a typical American war comic. I respect American war comics hugely and what they mean to the demographics they are made for. Many of these comics act as healing stories for people who went through similar experiences and act as a way to document, in a personal format, the way that life was back then. Accurate documentation is incredibly important, especially of war stories.

But I think in general, European comics tend to strike a more passive, emotional chord than the American stories do. There's no doubt that American war comics feature lots of action, lots of explosions, lots of violence, and a gritty realistic style meant to make you feel like you're watching a live action film. European comics however, also tend to contain more passive stories as well as aggressive ones. Notes for a War Story is a great example of this. For a graphic novel about war, you never once see a typical war scene in the entire book. There's still a lot of action and violence-- but what makes the book memorable comes from the very personal experiences of these characters and the way their personality develops through their war. Many of the conflicts are internal as well as external, and the art style is thoughtful and quiet-- and furthers the tone of the story in a visual way.

From what I've seen, European comics often stray from the beaten path much more so than American comics tend to. I'm sad that there are not more European comics translated and available in America than there are currently, but luckily they are getting more popular and we're headed in the right direction.