Category Archives: Dig Comics
Dig Comics: Why We Fight
Columnist Miguel Cima, director/host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics, looks at what makes comics so great, and what’s holding them back.
For the last several years, I’ve been working on my documentary film and TV project, Dig Comics. The idea is simple: I’m pissed off that comic books, that wonderful art form deserving of the same stature and praise received by film, music, literature and television is virtually ignored by the American public. And that just has to change. It is the mission of Dig Comics to reintroduce the US to this vital, unique medium to the greater part of the country who aren’t even aware of the national treasure they are sitting on. And we also need to energize the core fan base for comic books to join us in a call to action, to become the emissaries and taste-makers for a whole new generation of readers. It’s time we all came into the sun and share our knowledge, our passion, and help nourish a dying industry along with the great many who could benefit from the awesome experience that comic books offer. Dig Comics has a plan for how to get this done – and a damned good reason why it MUST be done.
We live in a time of incredible work being created out there – truly a second golden age for comic books – and yet we are letting our Van Goughs fade away into obscurity, toiling away for tiny audiences, all the while producing art worthy of the greats. Of course, not every comic book is great, but neither is every song great. Would you not still want to introduce your friends and family to MUSIC? Imagine they never heard music! Would you not feel like you were robbing them if you didn’t push some into their ears? So it should be with comics! While comics has many fanatical adherents (like me), there are few (if any) casual readers. You go ask your neighbors when the last time they saw a movie was. Some might say they see five movies a week. Other might watch one or two movies a month, or even just a year – but they ALL watch movies. And listen to music, even read books despite all the premature reports of the death of literacy. But comics? Those same neighbors are more likely to have not read a single comic book in years, decades or maybe never. And an industry can’t really thrive with a handful of adherents. And too many are blind to the wonderful things comics offer. So what are we going to do about it?
Dig Comics animation spot by Scott Shaw!
Well, first we need to understand why this happened. It wasn’t always this way. Comics once had a huge audience in America. But a string of bad luck and poor decisions contributed to a steady decline. Many of these are well known. The publication of Seduction of the Innocent by psychologist Fredric Wertham, a book directly tying juvenile delinquency with the reading of comic books, delivered at the height of the paranoid McCarthy era. The subsequent Senate hearings where comics were very publically demonized in a very serious setting on the national stage. These were followed closely by comic book burnings, and public outcry. On the defensive, comic book publishers self-imposed its own censorship mechanism, further creating the image of a dangerous product in need of regulation. The people running the business side of things didn’t help much either. Bad choices on everything from pricing to distribution models and the nurturing of an insular fetish culture by top professionals made comics become less available and accessible as the decades wore on. There are a lot of stories like these and more which help explain why America turned its back on its own creation. We must tell them, and always seek the details to more fully see the picture.
But we also have to understand those other places in the world, those places where comic books DO enjoy a wide popular audience. We have to understand countries like France and Belgium, where comic artists are treated like rock stars, their names as famous as Kanye West, Steven Spielberg or J.K. Rowling. You can go to stores in Paris and find palettes of graphic novels, selling by the dozens at $50 each, being picked up by businessmen, old ladies and elementary school kids. There are public subways commissioned by the government to be designed by their artist, large museums and a comic convention twice the size of San Diego. On the other side of the planet, Japan does 5-10 times the sales of comics as the US, a multi-billion dollar business, yet with only half the population. Their creators are honored by statues of their creations in public parks, and one of the most popular reality shows in the country, starring one of the biggest artists they ever produced.
And perhaps most important – we have to show people what we have going on right here at home. We need to expose the great American works being produced by the great artists of our times. And superheroes are just the beginning. There are comics for everyone. Let us share our masters of horror. Let us tell tales of the great autobiographical graphic novels, rendered by some of the greatest storytellers of our times, sharing their experiences of ordinary life. Bring your teachers along to delve in the heady works of history, journalism, politics and even science drawn with loving hands, transmitting knowledge in a unique way. Help your friends escape into countless worlds of fantasy, science fiction, suspense and more. It’s all here in the comics, kids. All you need is someone to show you where to fish for it. And Dig Comics will do this for you – along with all the comics fans out there who share our cause and do their part in spreading the word.
How will Dig Comics do this? By providing fun, entertaining & informative content to comics fans and non-fans alike. We’ve already started. Our short film won Best Documentary at the San Diego Comic Con (watch it here at DigComics.com). And we’ve done more filming since. We’ve been trying to get the short developed into a TV show – the perfect platform for our mission. So far, we haven’t been able to get there, so we’re switching gears and taking matters into our own hands. I’m announcing here that Dig Comics will be made as a feature film. How will we do this? Well, that’s another announcement – one we will make in a few short weeks. And when the time comes, we will ask for your help in the effort. But once the film is made and we prove that we can bring an audience to the project – then we’ll get a show going, and much more as well. Dig Comics envisions multiple interactive platforms to help organize fans and pass the torch to the people. It’s a new century, people, and comics are on deck for a serious comeback. Let us work together so that names like Kirby, Hernandez, Eisner and Clowes are just as well-known as John, Paul, George and Ringo. I promise, we will make it fun for all. Come with us America, come with us and DIG COMICS!
Argentinean-born New Yorker and NYU film school graduate Miguel Cima is a veteran of film, television and music. He has worked for such companies as Warner Bros., Dreamworks and MTV. An avid comic book collector since he could read, Miguel began writing stories in 4th grade and has not slowed down since. He is a world traveler, accomplished writer, filmmaker, and comics creator. He is the writer, director and host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics. Follow Dig Comics on Facebook. Read more of Miguel’s comic book recommendations.
Dig Comics: Graphic Conflict in the Middle East
Columnist Miguel Cima, director/host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics, looks at what makes comics so great, and what’s holding them back.
This week’s insane almost-banning of Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis by some dingbat school principal in Chicago once again put into spotlight the banal efforts of the prudish class of officials who have threatened the arts. And rightly so. The short-sighted, narrow-minded policy against exposure to the arts is not only stupid, it’s counter-productive. Now every kid will want to read Persepolis if only to read Marji’s tirade of naughty words hurled against the rotten people of her life. This is a good vehicle to raise the profile of comics in America and brings to mind a wave of works we have seen over the last decade which cover the seemingly endless conflicts in the Islamic world. While this notion almost always conjures up visions of “East vs. West” or religious war, the more honest truth is a look at nations and peoples struggling internally against one another to define what they want their part of the world to be. And fortunately, comics are providing some of the greatest windows into these lives.
The Complete Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi
The aforementioned Persepolis is a great place to start. The uber-popular autobiographical work follows Satrapi’s life from a decent middle class lifestyle as a big city gal living in Tehran, sharing how her family and friends nervously watched their international metropolis degrade into the seat of a theocratic power. Watching otherwise normal modern cosmopolitan urban dwellers having to morph into purveyors of secret liquor parties and veiled second class citizens was disheartening enough, but following Marji’s journey as an expat in Europe, where her parents send her as a teenager to escape oppression in the land they love is simply devastating. Satrapi’s style is simple and expressive, falling easily into a traditional cartooning style, yet always delivers explosive moments which border between scary and absurd. Far from fitting the almost uniform stereotype of the jihad-crazy suicide bomber, Persepolis offers a window into the far more unsettling reality: most people in Iran feel as trapped by madness as anyone fearing a terrorist attack might be.
Zahra’s Paradise by Amir & Khalil
More recently, the less known Zahra’s Paradise, originally a webcomic, offered a fictional account via real-life composite of the recent 2009 “Green Revolution” uprising in Iran, where a true grass roots popular democratic movement rose and fell with a stunning and brutal crash. Co-creators Amir & Khalil tell the harrowing stories of a cross-section of Iranians trying to find friends and family caught up in the arrests, jailing, tortures and disappearance of a multitude of activists during that time. Harrowing and sometimes incredibly harsh, the story is a no-holds-barred look at a despotic oppressive regime whose very bureaucracies seem engineered to chew the population up (one stunning image of the Ayatollah literally being fed Iranians directly into his mouth via conveyor belt totally captures it). Evoking elements of Carol Lay, Nate Powell and even Art Spiegleman, the line between realism and artistic license is balanced in such a way to make for a grueling and rewarding read.
A Game for Swallows: To Die, To Leave, To Return by Zeina Abirached
Meanwhile, over in Lebanon, things aren’t going much better for the characters in Zeina Abirached’s A Game for Swallows: To Die, To Leave, To Return. This lovingly-told tale of how life in the 15-year civil war dominating Beirut somehow became “normal” for the young author becomes a testament to the human spirit. Caught in the carnage of bombs, snipers and demilitarized zones – defined literally block by block in this former “Paris of the Middle East” – the cohesion of the family and neighbors evoke the deepest sense of humanity as they struggle to survive the most uncertain of futures. Abirached’s heavily inked whimsical images push the mind into giving the characters a degree of animation which seems to pull the reader closer in. Then there are the powerful early panels where a schematic of the neighborhood is laid out like a perverse board game, showing the different places you have to run, jump, hide and duck in order to make it down a few blocks without being shot, bombed, or otherwise killed or wounded. But even the idea of a whole apartment building combining resources to keep a single refrigerator running becomes an epic triumph of the spirit. It’s really quite eye-opening.
The Photographer: Into War-torn Afghanistan with Doctors Without Borders by Emmanuel Guibert and Didier Lefevre
Finally, there’s The Photographer: Into War-torn Afghanistan with Doctors Without Borders, the posthumous fumetti/graphic novel by the late photographer Didier Lefevre and artist Emmanuel Guibert. Working in the 1980’s in post-war Afghanistan, Lefevre had joined Doctors Without Borders to chronicle their efforts to bring medical aid to the poor rural victims of war deep in the heart of that nation. His personal written account, combined with his photos of the events as they happened, are cleverly paired as panels alongside Guibert’s original art to help graphically fill in the gaps of the photographer’s story which he was unable to capture on film. The final work provides a gripping chronicle of conflict made all the harder to feel detached from because you actually see the faces of the injured, the sick, the dying. The juxtaposition of the artist’s drawings telling an emotional tale against the stark images of impossible moments in time create a uniquely haunting picture of what it means to live ever under the threat of violence and death.
While the politics behind the events these books all touch upon are obviously part of the story, what really binds them is the humanity behind what all-too-often is treated in an abstract way by those of us living a world away from these conflicts. I can easily see how in another dimension not far removed from our own, these could easily be tales from New York, Miami, and Kansas. Reading these works, I often forgot all the religious and political issues driving the conflicts, and just thought – man! That could be my family. That could be my street. These people were not Arabs, or Persians, or folks of the rugged Asiatic steps. They were people. It is a testament to each of the artists that their books have brought to the reader the reminder that there is a universality to the human story. I hope these wonderful works help bring that sort of understanding to us all.
Argentinean-born New Yorker and NYU film school graduate Miguel Cima is a veteran of film, television and music. He has worked for such companies as Warner Bros., Dreamworks and MTV. An avid comic book collector since he could read, Miguel began writing stories in 4th grade and has not slowed down since. He is a world traveler, accomplished writer, filmmaker, and comics creator. He is the writer, director and host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics. Follow Dig Comics on Facebook. Read more of Miguel’s comic book recommendations.
Dig Comics: Conversion Conversation
Columnist Miguel Cima, director/host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics, looks at what makes comics so great, and what’s holding them back.
My girlfriend and I will mark our ninth anniversary this week. From the day I got to know her, I figured we had a shot at the long haul. Like me, she is an artist (singer, writer) and we both value many of the same aesthetics and spirituality. Of course, she never really bargained for comics. Like so many more we may know, this lovely gal was well on her way towards becoming the stereotypical comic book widow. We know what she looks like: a grown lady, trying to have a life with a slob who can’t stop amassing colorful bound paper, dodging stacks of Spider-Man here, sitting on action figures (NOT dolls!) there. The poor thing could have been facing an eternal labyrinth of Batman posters, Thanos sculpts, Hulk gloves, all laid ceremonially about dozens upon dozens of short white cardboard boxes, the product of decades of packratery. And in fact, to some degree, this has become her life. Except for one very important exception: this woman was able to come to love comics.
The Walking Dead, Volume 1: Days Gone Bye by Robert Kirkman and Tony Moore
Two things allowed her to escape this fate. The first: she was cool. She dug good music, poetry, cinema, etc. Like me, her tastes were vast and eclectic, with a touch of nerd, and always with hunger for more. Second: I might have been a comics geek, but I wasn’t JUST a fan boy. Sure, I used to be. “Make Mine Marvel” is a pretty good summation of the first 10 years or so of my serious collecting years (I was so young). But by the time we met, I had tapped deep into the well of “other” comics. It didn’t happen overnight. But slowly, she found her bearings. Being a fan of horror films and true crime stories, she began to pick up titles like The Walking Dead, Crossed, Criminal and Stitched. Loving strong human dramas, she’s now into some gekiga manga, especially the works of Tezuka like Buddha and Message to Adolf. And of course, a lot of American alternative stuff like Carol Tyler’s You’ll Never Know and Backderf’s My Friend Dahmer. Had she found nothing but guys in capes beating each other up, this probably would never have happened. But now, when I bring home the books on Wednesdays, she is more eager than me to burn through the pile, and is most often ahead of me as she reads way faster than I do.
But like I suggested earlier, this is often the exception and not the rule. Take for example, my buddy Tyler. His wife is totally a comics widow. Her house has been littered with cosmic Gauntlets, never-ending Crises, the deaths of superheroes, the inevitable resurrection of said superheroes, clones, alternate universes, snikts, bamfs, thwips, booms, bangs and pows. And the vast majority of this work is industrially produced, 70-year old legacy brands driving the impenetrable soap opera addiction, managed trademarks rarely allowed to be created with the free hand of individual vision. And besides – it’s always the same thing. Buff boys and big breasted babes fighting, betraying, switching sides, unlocking box within box of subplot…even for the dedicated, it’s a lot of energy.
You’ll Never Know, Book One: A Good and Decent Man by C. Tyler
The thing is – Tyler’s wife is totally reachable, just like my gal. But only if we can find something that will appeal to her. I had never met Kari before – or Tyler – back when I filmed them for my second Dig Comics short film. We had been pals on Facebook, and met up at the San Diego Comic Con. My challenge was simple: find Kari a comic she would like. She was quite skeptical. So I talked to her for 15 minutes, got a vibe for her. Kari was very much a salt-of-the-earth blue collar mom. She spoke to me for her love of biographies, and her fondness of books that tug at the heart. We mosied on up to the Fantagraphics booth and in about 30 seconds, I put the aforementioned Carol Tyler’s You’ll Never Know in front of her. An autobiographic tale of one woman’s quest to keep her crumbling family together while simultaneously poking at her father, trying to get him to open up about his experiences in World War Two, it is a warm, wonderful tear-jerker, with art that’s friendly and light, at once humorous and familiar. Carol’s sincerity and courage flow off the page, exposing her flaws, fears and fights to the audience. Kari LOVED it. And she loved meeting Carol, a surprise I pulled for the cameras.
So, when facing Dig Comics’ core mission of expanding comics readership in America, we are affronted with a conundrum: at the same time we need comics enthusiasts to actively convert family and friends into comics fans, most of these comics enthusiasts have little knowledge of the types of comics which could appeal to those who frankly don’t give a rat’s ass about superheroes. I’ve had the practice for a while of making all gifts – birthdays, holidays, etc. – the gift of comics. For my mom, it’s always easy. She grew up loving certain types of works, mainly humor and drama. For her, I could turn to Dennis The Menace, Nancy, The Rabbi’s Cat, Will Eisner’s stuff. But she would never read Wolverine or Hellboy or Superman. My brother was tougher – he’s into sports – but I still found some stuff like Golem’s Mighty Swing and the Roberto Clemente biography. For my dad, P. Craig Russell’s adaptations of opera, like The Magic Flute, did the trick. It’s a fun exercise which I enjoy.
Irredeemable by Mark Waid and Peter Krause
And I think that if we want to see more Americans reading comics, then we ALL need to preach the word. But it’ll never work if we can’t leave the superhero comfort zone. To the fanboy I say this: with great power comes great responsibility. We NEED you to do this good work and spread the love of comics around. Not only that, consider it a voyage of discovery for yourself. Your TV and movie habits aren’t 100% superheroes. You like comedy, terror, history – why not consume that stuff in comics too? You’ll be doing your friends, family and YOURSELF a favor. Give it a shot. And here’s the epilogue: slowly, but surely, my girlfriend is checking out superheroes. She’s already read the entire run of Irredeemable and I’ve put the Spider-Man Ditko omnibus in her hands. She’s asked me more than once to explain why Kirby’s art is important. Fellas, imagine your future with that super geek gal you helped mold. All it takes is a little sweat up front that will make your comics world bigger, and the world of comics audience stronger.
Argentinean-born New Yorker and NYU film school graduate Miguel Cima is a veteran of film, television and music. He has worked for such companies as Warner Bros., Dreamworks and MTV. An avid comic book collector since he could read, Miguel began writing stories in 4th grade and has not slowed down since. He is a world traveler, accomplished writer, filmmaker, and comics creator. He is the writer, director and host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics. Follow Dig Comics on Facebook. Read more of Miguel’s comic book recommendations.
Dig Comics: Comic Book Frame Job – The Case for a Museum Movement
Columnist Miguel Cima, director/host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics, looks at what makes comics so great, and what’s holding them back.
A couple of weeks ago, I was filming Michael Uslan for the upcoming Dig Comics Kickstarter campaign (stay tuned). Besides being the man who brought all the Batman and Dark Knight movies to the big screen, Michael has also long endeavored to bring legitimacy to comics as a serious medium. Understanding what comics needed to flourish as an accepted mainstream art form, Michael successfully created the first accredited college course for comic books in the early ’70s at Indiana University. I asked him about that, and the subject of comics museums came up. Michael was also involved in bringing a comics exhibition to the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art, another awesome achievement, but what becomes more elusive is a strong, permanent network of comics arts museums. To be sure, in larger cities, temporary exhibits have flourished. Even the Louvre in Paris had one a few years back, and Dig Comics was lucky enough to film an awesome exhibit of the work of the great Stan Sakai at the Japanese American Museum at the end of 2011 here in Los Angeles (stay tuned for some of that, too). But unlike painting, natural history and science, most big cities just don’t seem to have the space for permanent museums dedicated to sequential art. There are, of course some important exceptions. Let’s check a few out.
Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art
Starting in New York City – the birthplace of the modern comic book – we turn to the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art. Except, we don’t. That’s because back in 2011, after a decade of service, the museum had to close its doors due to inability to raise enough donations. It’s a shame really that the city itself never thought to institute a dedicated space for the celebration of this homegrown medium, but oh well. The good news is that MoCCA’s collection was acquired by the Society of Illustrators, and can be seen, combined with the society’s own collection, under one roof on the upper east side. This is pretty cool, but there’s always been a downside to the idea of a comics museum. How do you properly display what is often such small art into a public forum with which attendees can easily engage with them? Just hanging them up on walls seems to fall flat – literally – which brings me to the next museum, one which has customized its display design to more properly fit this unique form.
Le Musée de la Bande Dessinée
Over in Angouleme, France is Le Musée de la Bande Dessinée – which is appropriate as that same city is home to the world’s largest comic book convention (where is your comic museum, San Diego?). A cursory look at the layout of many of the permanent exhibits shows an intelligent ambiance for the study of comic art. Laid out under glass, set at draftsman’s angles, one has the chance to lean in and look at original pages more in the manner that they were created, and most often read. Unlike a painting, which was always meant to hang on a wall, comics are supposed to be just under your nose as you lean over. It’s a simple but clever device the museum has employed in order to offer attendees a chance to experience the original art in a more natural manner – save perhaps holding the pages in your own hands, but then they would get all covered up with cappuccino stains.
The Belgian Comic Strip Center
Just one nation over in Belgium, another museum has taken things to a different level and made a really grand space and experience for comics lovers. The Belgian Comic Strip Center in Brussels occupies a fantastic Art Nouveau building – a testament to a nation that feels this art form deserves fancy digs – and has really gone all out to ensure the museum-goers are literally immersed in the world of sequential art. Employing an invigorating mixture of blown up art, props, dioramas and original art, this place really brings the drawings to life in a special way, viscerally communicating the power of the medium. It’s got a reading room for kids, and super clever displays, both in its permanent and temporary exhibits. Kids will love it and adults will be drawn into another world. A veritably intoxicating atmosphere.
Cartoon Art Museum
Back here in the U.S., another important function of the modern museum – the mission of preservation – is found to be alive and well in Fog City. The Cartoon Art Museum in San Francisco allots a great deal of its resources towards this end. They have vital programs such as sponsoring artists-in-residence, traveling exhibits and outreach. Of great import is a focus on American artists. Not limiting themselves to domestic works, its nevertheless a crucial component to the museum’s efforts, just as the French and Belgian institutions might focus a bit more on their own sequential heritage. Again – comics are American after all. Nice to have at least one place take that seriously.
Kyoto International Manga Museum
But over in Japan, they take their comics very seriously. If you don’t believe me, just take a gander at the Kyoto International Manga Museum, in that nation’s former capital city. This place is a full-on research and preservation institution, dedicated not only to art displays, but a real education on the history of the art form. Their “What is Manga” permanent exhibit is a robust interactive pathway focusing more on the published works as artifacts than original art. And their famous “Wall of Manga” is 200 meters of Japanese comics – 50,000 of them! – all in one room covering an area bigger than two American football fields. And guess what? You can just walk in there, pull them off the wall, and read them. Now all I have to do is learn Japanese and I’ll be set. Imagine I had such an option in English.
One last offering is currently a pipe dream, but it sure is an exciting one. Over in China, the proposed Comics and Animation Museum in Hangzhou really levels up in the design department. Made to resemble word balloons, the concept art for the space is mouth-watering: walking around inside a bubble space with giant blow-ups of art literally enveloping you panoramically. It’s hard to say right now what that experience will be like – there seems to be more of a focus on screening anime – but it’s too early to tell because no one has been there. After all, it hasn’t been built yet.
And speaking of not having been there yet – full disclosure – I have not attended a single one of these museums. So thanks for letting me write this column. I’ve now done the research to enrich my own life with a whole new way of engaging in the experience of comic books. Now, off to play the lottery with the hope that I can find a way to do all this traveling…
Argentinean-born New Yorker and NYU film school graduate Miguel Cima is a veteran of film, television and music. He has worked for such companies as Warner Bros., Dreamworks and MTV. An avid comic book collector since he could read, Miguel began writing stories in 4th grade and has not slowed down since. He is a world traveler, accomplished writer, filmmaker, and comics creator. He is the writer, director and host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics. Follow Dig Comics on Facebook. Read more of Miguel’s comic book recommendations.
Dig Comics: Underwater
Columnist Miguel Cima, director/host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics, looks at what makes comics so great, and what’s holding them back.
With so many great artists taking me in so many directions to new worlds and places, often so far from the mundane scenarios which can readily make it seem to the casual outsider that there is but one reason comics are made, I find myself bumping into unintended genres. In recent months and years, I have unwittingly been subject to a variety of stories by very different and distinct artists who have led me into universes beneath the oceans and rivers of the world. And while fantasy is key in these tales, the tenor of these works are anything but children’s tales. They navigate from the deeply self-reflective, to dangerous psychedelic tides and onto the very abyss of desire. Yet I will group these comics here today, and others too, as perhaps examples of Subaquatic Sequentials.
Sailor Twain, or The Mermaid in the Hudson by Mark Siegel
Most recently, I doused myself in Sailor Twain, or The Mermaid in the Hudson, which I believe is the first major comics work by artist Mark Siegel. When not serving as editorial director of the graphic novel publisher First Second Books, he has worked largely illustrating and writing children’s books. But don’t let your kids read this one! An absolutely charming tale of a late 19th century river boat captain who runs pleasure steamboats up and down the Hudson River from New York City to Albany, and his entanglement with a mermaid. Far from a Little Mermaid princess piece, this book is about desire, lust, selfishness and the mermaid involved is a scary monster straight from the original mythology. Illicit affairs, intrigue, mysterious figures, feverish lust, and restless drowned souls are interwoven in this lurid tale with more twists and turns than a school of guppies running from trout. Siegel’s art blends atmospheric brooding expressionism with the simple lines and chalky finish of some antiquated children’s book, giving the protagonist outlandishly round eyes almost spinning with emotional emphasis. A real page-turner, Sailor Twain is equal parts horror, thriller, mystery and soap opera. See for yourself, you can read preview chapters at the Sailor Twain website.
The Underwater Welder by Jeff Lemire
The next seahorse in this trio of tub-dunkers comes from the far more established Jeff Lemire, an award-winning cartoonist known for the graphic novel Essex County and the graphic novel series Sweet Tooth. The Underwater Welder continues wading in Lemire’s preferred theme, that of human isolation. Ostensibly a ghost story with Twilight Zone type features, the heart of the tale is that of a man who actively seeks separation from his history and obligations, expressed graphically in his drive to dive, dive deep, and stay down there. It’s the perfect motif for those trying to escape the frightening responsibilities adulthood bestow upon people, albeit under the massive pressure of one’s own conscience. As always, Lemire’s moody lines populate landscapes, faces and even sea life with reflections of despair and world-weariness. While this keeps the whole tale painfully human, it is seamlessly blended with supernatural elements which sometimes make the parallel narratives purposefully blurred, like life as seen beneath the waves. A little on the bleak side, like most of Lemire’s work, any serious lover of serious drama will not be left wanting.
The Unsinkable Walker Bean by Aaron Renier
Finally, a book that’s a little older, but I think sailed under too many people’s radars. The Unsinkable Walker Bean by Aaron Renier seems in the title to buck the genre I am peddling here. And while it is true that of the three, this story spends the least time underwater, this one probably does the best job of filling my head with wonder, having my eyeballs ponder what may lie beneath. Considered a children’s comic, I think the book is kinda scary and harsh. Walker Bean is basically a nerdy pirate wannabe, inhabiting a quasi-Victorian world not quite like ours, where seemingly anachronistic technologies cohabitate with a rich world of witches, magical creatures and bizarre machines. Hurled into a plot to save his grandfather’s soul, Renier offers a vision that feels like a French ’60s children’s adventure comic with rich images bordering on the hallucinogenic and arcane. This isn’t a cutesy-fuzzy kids fest. The book is filled with real danger. Monsters really eat people, souls can really be lost to endless torment, villains play for keeps and most adults are creepy, stupid and treacherous. And yet the color palate is like Christmas tree lights in a foggy bog. Something warm and alluring cuts through the dark waters and wicked skies. Walker Bean is marvelous good fun, which not only will satisfy the fantasy fan, but stir something deep in the strongest hearts – the revived belief that we really don’t know what’s down there. Except now we do.
I think all three authors are acutely aware of their overarching metaphor. Some say that when you dream of being underwater, that it’s symbolic of immersing yourself in your emotions. Whether the effect is the sensation of drowning, of being overwhelmed, or of freedom and exploration, the evocation trickles throughout literature and art. I might put all three of these books in the fantasy section, but not wholeheartedly, as each occupies its own space on the shelf. Unless you are ready to file all three under the shelf, under the floorboards, down until they are wet and enveloped. Together they swim through my mind and if you’re going to dip your toes, I wager you can easily sail from one to the other without feeling the slightest disruption – and never get bored.
Argentinean-born New Yorker and NYU film school graduate Miguel Cima is a veteran of film, television and music. He has worked for such companies as Warner Bros., Dreamworks and MTV. An avid comic book collector since he could read, Miguel began writing stories in 4th grade and has not slowed down since. He is a world traveler, accomplished writer, filmmaker, and comics creator. He is the writer, director and host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics. Follow Dig Comics on Facebook. Read more of Miguel’s comic book recommendations.
Dig Comics: Hero Quest
Columnist Miguel Cima, director/host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics, looks at what makes comics so great, and what’s holding them back.
If you know me, you know I don’t read a lot of superhero comics these days. Of course, I used to read ONLY superhero comics. Most of us who grew up on comics in the last few decades probably know what I mean. I was strictly a “Make Mine Marvel” guy for most of my childhood, only getting deep into DC post-Crisis. It was an important and magical experience, to know a full pantheon of heroes, gods, monsters, strange worlds, other realms, quests, visions…it was a unique opportunity for the 20th century. Sure, every culture ever had its religions, filled with all of its figures, places and events. But none which were created so recently, so freshly and relevantly. Modern printing allowed for tales to be disseminated as never before, not only textually but graphically, giving us perhaps as many far-out tales of battles and adventures in a few years as all the carved hieroglyphics of an entire dynasty. And there we all were, common people able to read, with easy access to experience vast mythology. I always feel pity when I think of those who passed by the so-called “universes” of the Superman or Fantastic Four variety. It’s a very special thing.
Often I consider that so many comics fans in America are really just fans of a particular mythology, or perhaps a few mythologies (think titles like Hellboy or Savage Dragon). For me, being a true comics devotee means not limiting yourself to one type of comic book experience – in fact, not limiting yourself at all, at least from overall genres and styles (naturally, within each, there will be varying degrees of quality). So why do I limit myself from superhero comics? I mean, if I take my own advice, then surely, I should be giving the current titles more of my time, right?
Spider-Man by Donald Soffritti
I can tell you why I don’t read MOST superhero comics that I used to read. The obvious: how many decent stories does any character really have? What can you possibly read that has not been written so many thousands of times over the past seven plus decades? Of course the answer is: not much. At least, not much if you stick to continuity. The absurdity of trying to pretend that figures like Batman and Spider-Man are not both well over the hill is evident in the industry practices of rehashed gimmickry and slight variations. One hero is dead (but always comes back to life). Another has some experience which “changes everything” even if it’s only a slight variation on a storyline from thirty years ago. And on top of that, somebody has to manage an ever more complex, more populated mythos which requires the preservation of all concurrent storylines, across dozens of monthly publications, for endless years, and all to meet the demands of shareholders. Gone are the days when these legacy characters were the product of visionaries, hungry not just for expression, but for money to put food on the table. The commercial product has been fully pried from the risk-taking art form that started it all. Yes, of course, there are the exceptions to the rule, but I don’t know how much I care to seek them. They are too few, too meager. I don’t put any blame on the creators working in the genre right now. First of all, it’s by far the most lucrative. And by and large, the folks behind the work are true fans. Getting the chance to write and draw that character you grew up with and getting the chance to add your stamp to the legacy must be very appealing indeed. But it’s not working for me, and I often wonder why it works for anybody. How many “reboots” before you finally get sick of reboots? How many perfectly predictable resurrections before you realize, continuity has lost all meaning?
The Batman Chronicles by Bob Kane and Bill Finger
Fortunately, I have found some remedies for myself to fill these needs. First of all, I use the time machine. I’ve been jumping into all of the old stuff I never read. DC has an excellent line of affordable trade collections of the original comics from their core pantheon called DC Chronicles. Way cheaper than the hardback DC Archives collections (and printed on pulp, which I find far cooler), I have been digging in to Superman, Batman and Green Lantern, all in the order they appeared in titles like Action and Detective and DC Showcase. Sure, I’ve read a lot of this stuff, one-offs in reprints and such, but this completist line allows me to see ALL of it from the start, a real history project where you can see the more unfettered creators lay down the genesis of the legacy titles. Marvel Masterworks is another great option, but their trade paperbacks are not as competitively priced, and never on pulp (damn!). But that’s all you’ve got for right now, and all that awesome history is there too, from Fantastic Four to Iron Fist and just about everything from Marvel’s Silver Age. And I’ll sometimes nibble at “alternate reality” stories, tales of the characters outside of the continuity like Warren Ellis’ Old Man Logan storyline or DC’s retired Elseworlds imprint. Unfortunately, entire reboots like the Ultimate universe in Marvel or The New 52 are subject to the same robust brand management interference which those other examples of limited series are put through. And as such, are plagued by the same afflictions.
Irredeemable by Mark Waid and Peter Krause
And so I seek superheroes in other places besides DC and Marvel. Recently, I burned through Mark Waid’s Irredeemable series with great relish. Waid took the 20th century archetypes, offering instant recognizability (but with no TM infringement), and ran with a tale that brand managers at the big corporate publishers could never allow, including closure. (It helps that besides having an original story, Waid also has his own publishing house, BOOM! to be as free as he wants to be.) Marvel uber-author Ed Brubaker played his own games with his Incognito series (limited though it was, and on Marvel’s Icon imprint, to their credit). The aforementioned Savage Dragon by Erik Larsen is another excellent example of a guy giving us old-fashioned superhero fun without the expense of convoluted continuity (even though the title is getting long in the tooth itself!). I could mention more and more, but you get the idea – it’s not superheroes I have a problem with, it’s just the idea of a market dominated by this single genre (Marvel and DC run 70% of the North American market) and the idea that despite the inherent quality control issues when churning out so much pulp (or whatever slick paper is) carrying such intense corporate pressure (the far more profitable movie, video game, and toy branches of Time Warner and Disney depend on the publishing arms), the audience pushes most of its money on this heavily trod-upon ground. I wish more of you would venture out to discover humor, history, horror, high art, human dramas and so on, just like you do on TV and at the movies. But that’s just a dreamer’s lament. And I’ll be honest with you. I want to keep getting new stories from the same old characters. And I do. Just not entirely in comics.
The Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes on Disney XD
Sadly, I nowadays get most of my Marvel/DC superhero action not through comics, but on TV. For the last twenty odd years or so, DC in particular has offered wonderful superhero mythology, starting with Batman: The Animated Series followed closely by Superman: The Animated Series which, following this continuity strictly or not, smoothly transitioned into Justice League and Justice League Unlimited. Here you could feel the freedom of the creators. They were given far more leeway with the legacy characters. And even after a series ended, new series could create a new vision with its own angle. You can see this in such diverse shows as The Batman, Batman: Brave and the Bold, Young Justice and Green Lantern: The Animated Series. I don’t love and watch ALL of these shows, but EVERY superhero fan is bound to love one or more of them. Marvel doesn’t have quite as long of a track record with high-quality shows, but of late, we’ve seen outstanding efforts with shows like Wolverine and the X-Men, Iron Man Armored Adventures, Spectacular Spider-Man, The Super Hero Squad Show, Ultimate Spider-Man, and particularly with Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. This show, like the Justice League run and the current Young Justice offers just the right blend of childish escapism, adult themes (but not TOO adult), long episodic tales, fights and violence (but not TOO violent) mixed with healthy, respectful nods to works new and old from the source material. It is ironic that in animation – a far more expensive process than comic book publishing, requiring teams of dozens rather than perhaps 10 people (sometimes just ONE) – there seems to be a lot more room to move for talented storytellers to play with the standard bearers of the legacy books. And it’s not just freedom for them, its freedom for me, the audience, who can enjoy new tales of old friends without getting bored, still surprised from time to time, able to see these tales in fresh places where you can feel a far more steady creative control, for good or ill (again, I do NOT love all of those animated shows, but I sure do love more than a few).
Which brings me to this final bummer: I don’t like writing about TV in this column. I want to write about comics. And that means writing about something other than superheroes. But at least now you know why. And maybe somebody in the right place will take it to heart. I interviewed Stephen Christy, editor-in-chief of Archaia Entertainment, at Comic-Con a few years back for the Dig Comics project. I asked him the same thing I asked all the publishers I talked to: if you were god and could run DC and Marvel, what would you do? His answer stuck with me, and I paraphrase: “I would kill all the titles, except about 12-15 of the core books, assign top creators to those and limit the output.” He may have a point. After all, there’s a hell of a lot to pretend you can manage in one continuity without a lot of not so awesome comics. I would combine that effort with killing all continuity periodically and maybe give some creators a chance to take the characters for their own ride, rather than tack their decisions to a committee. And if you try to make your new continuity too close to your old one, you’ll lose. If you are keen on continuing to publish 50 or more titles, how about letting multiple continuities run at once? Let the market decide which one it likes. And if one falls out of favor, save the space for a new subset of creators. But do something besides the same old tricks, at least if you want to see my money again.
Argentinean-born New Yorker and NYU film school graduate Miguel Cima is a veteran of film, television and music. He has worked for such companies as Warner Bros., Dreamworks and MTV. An avid comic book collector since he could read, Miguel began writing stories in 4th grade and has not slowed down since. He is a world traveler, accomplished writer, filmmaker, and comics creator. He is the writer, director and host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics. Follow Dig Comics on Facebook. Read more of Miguel’s comic book recommendations.
Dig Comics: The Best Comic I Have Ever Read
Columnist Miguel Cima, director/host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics, looks at what makes comics so great, and what’s holding them back.
Buddha, by the great Osamu Tezuka, is the best comic book that I have ever read.
That needed to be said first. It was essential. I could not dally or dick around – the heart of the matter is clear and could not be waited upon.
Like so many other comics fans, I can boast that I have read tens of thousands of comic books, graphic novels, comic strips, cartoons and comic compilations. Live long enough, you will be able to say that too. I never had anything to prove. It was and continues to be a great joy for me, amongst the greatest of joys I have known. And so I am happy to report that Tezuka’s Buddha is the single most joyful comic book experience I have ever known.
I want to tell you that no matter if you are a superhero “fanboy,” an “alternative” hipster, a “Franco Belgian” connoisseur, a strictly “funny pages” fella, a far-out manga head, or even just a Saturday morning Looney Tunes laffer – Buddha is for you.
I was going to write why that is. But all the words were stupid. I deleted most of them after an hour. I got scared, thought about writing another column. How the hell do you have the balls to go public claiming you’ve read the best comic ever, then turn in some “essay” on the subject. You can’t jump up and down in an essay. You can’t beg on bended knee for someone to open a copy and look. At least, not if you just use words.
So here is my essay, with some assistance from Osamu Tezuka, and some very tangible inspiration from my gal Tiina, a recent comic convert who loves Buddha as much as I do.
First step: Put all the Buddha books on the bed:
I will now grab one at random and open to any old page:
1. IT’S EPIC! Damn, a double splash page to start, pain in the ass to take a decent pic. But this is what Tezuka’s ghost wanted, I guess. OK, first of all, Buddha is a classic epic tale. Obviously, the source material – the life story of one of the greatest spiritual figures ever – lends itself to this quality. But in comics terms, check out that castle fort. A dramatic sparsely clouded sky hanging overhead. Charging army. This could be Lord of the Rings or a tale from One Thousand and One Arabian Nights. And by now, you can see, the dude can draw.
Next random, poorly taken shot:
2. DRAMA!: You don’t even know what the hell is going on but you can tell – the dude’s got a knife to the old man’s head, he’s running around like a badass, and busts in on the broad. There are miles of this stuff in here! And check out how ornate all the curtains and doors are. Shiny floor mirages, opening doors in to dark rooms – talk about dramatic moods! Reminds me of some Ditko horror panels.
Next random, poorly taken shot:
3. ABSURDIST HUMOR! Peppered throughout Buddha, Tezuka plays with anachronisms for comic effect, mostly at random. Look at panel 3. We’re in 6th century BC India, and here we’ve got a bunch of 20th century guys from a moving company dragging in contemporary furniture. And for no good reason at all! Yes, it’s a serious story, but Tezuka just loves to play in so many ways, and shaking the whole image up with bizarre randomness happens often. To fanboys who would balk at this, I say “Why so serious?” A moment like this harkens back to Carl Barks and Mad Magazine, encompassing a core element of comics. Buddha even has sweat beads a-flyin’! And a quick word on the writing – check out how deep their conversation is. Yeah, it’s as deep as it is fun.
Next random, poorly taken shot:
4. TRAGEDY! Oh boy, there’s a lot of tragedy in this book, too. Of course, many of the characters in the book are from the old stories of the Buddha. Those epic tales are full of people living, loving, suffering and dying, just like you read in the Bible. But part of Tezuka’s genius is that he seamlessly weaves those figures with characters of his own, made up for this series. Only those VERY well versed in Buddha lore would know who’s “real” and who’s not (I had to look a lot of these folks up). And you would think that would fail miserably, but here we see the master storyteller at the height of his powers. Buddha was completed in his final years, and as was the case with Will Eisner, the man’s work grew old as a fine wine does. I also love the few words on display. The images speak for themselves. There’s a lot of this in here, too. I’d also say there’s a Love & Rockets quality to be found on this page as well, which I also see plenty of throughout. Full disclosure: I don’t know how much longer this can go on, and the pictures are starting to come less randomly as finding choice pages becomes more important.
Next image:
5. LOONEY TUNES! What did I tell ya? Pure 100% LOONEY TUNES! Look at the horse’s face in panel 2. This is a TOTAL Yosemite Sam moment, burnt facial hair and all! Again, in the middle of a serious scene – a bounty hunter facing blowback from his target – Tezuka opts to resolve the conflict like a Warner Bros. cartoon. You can almost hear the horse yell “Yipe! Yipe! Yipe!” as he runs away. The master is not only having fun, he’s writing a love letter to cartoon funnies and speaking the fan’s language. What a treat.
Next totally purposefully sought out image:
6. MONSTERS! SUPER VILLAINS! SUPER POWERS! Got it fanboy? It’s all here! If you love super-powered conflicts, then brothers and sisters, this book has got it! In spades! And it’s not just the Buddha and his god-like powers. There are characters with super-strength, psychic powers, invulnerability, heightened senses – it’s like the X-Men! Only with dead characters staying dead (mostly). Don’t be afraid! Check it out!
7. THRILLS!
8. CHILLS!
9. ACTION PACKED!
10. COSMIC!
11. AND JUST PLAIN BEAUTIFUL…
How many more words could I use to make this meaningful? What other comics qualities do you need me to sell you? The story flows easily, a real page turner beginning to end, intricate subplots woven in perfectly, victories and defeats, deep human drama, impeccable draftsmanship, hits every note, every goddamn note there is.
Except color. I want to thank Tezuka for not doing this in color. My head would probably have exploded. I am begging you, read this book, the best comic I have ever read – PLEASE!!!
Argentinean-born New Yorker and NYU film school graduate Miguel Cima is a veteran of film, television and music. He has worked for such companies as Warner Bros., Dreamworks and MTV. An avid comic book collector since he could read, Miguel began writing stories in 4th grade and has not slowed down since. He is a world traveler, accomplished writer, filmmaker, and comics creator. He is the writer, director and host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics. Follow Dig Comics on Facebook. Read more of Miguel’s comic book recommendations.
Dig Comics: Comic-Con Evolution
Guest columnist Miguel Cima, director/host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics, looks at what makes comics so great, and what’s holding them back.
It’s hideously cliché to rag on the Comic-Con International: San Diego these days. We all know the complaints. It’s grown too big, has become overcrowded. Tickets are hard to get, accommodations can be next to impossible. Studios, games and toys have taken over most of the floor space. Indy professionals can’t afford the ballooning booth & table fees (if you can even get a table other than by signing onto a 3-year wait list). Even seasoned pros struggle for badges & beds (a top Vertigo writer, in fact, made his feelings know on Facebook; Comic-Con International required him to show a copy of his pay stub to verify his credentials as so to be approved for complimentary Pro Badges – he decided to stay home). Fewer opportunities to really spend quality time with fan favorites. Getting into decent panels is a game of long lines and serious time investment. And forget Hall H. I never go anywhere near Hall H.
But we love it. And we need to find a way to fix it. Each year, you can see the problems growing. The tension in the halls is palpable. People are more rude, even aggressive, crammed in and frustrated as they are. The good deal has become elusive. So merely plugging leaks isn’t going to cut it anymore – we have to think to the next level. The common conversations and planning currently surrounding this topic are cosmetic and sorely lacking in ambition. You’ve heard them: move the Con to Anaheim. Or Los Angeles, even Las Vegas – which to my mind makes the most sense, even though it’s not my kind of town really. Scuttlebutt has it that the Convention Center will be expanded straight to the water, getting rid of the park and marina, leaving room even for additional lodging to be constructed. I took a long hard look at the proposed area makeover, from above and the ground, just didn’t look convincing to me: amounts to nothing more than a much bigger band-aid than usual. Conventional wisdom has become useless. There has to be a bold leap, a real mutation (if you will) from a difficult-to-manage jumble that leaves many wanting to a whole new way of life for the Con.
And I’ve got an idea or two on that.
Say Goodbye To The Annual Event: Welcome The 365 Attraction
I’m not kidding about this. What’s San Diego all about tourist-wise? Attractions. And why not? The weather is awesome, the gorgeous beaches alone are half the lure. But what else do you do in San Diego? There’s the Zoo – pretty damned famous. And Sea World. Visit some Missions, cross the border. Knott’s Berry Farm and Disneyland are doable by car. Great fun for the kids. So…how about San Diego’s newest attraction, The Great San Diego Comic Con? Sure, it may sound crazy. Basically, the Con would have to permanently occupy the San Diego Convention Center (or whatever space they end up using) and it would be open, like a park, all year long. You could break things up by section, sort of like they already are, just think like a theme park: Toy Land, Video Game World, TV Place, Movie Scene, Chotchke Heaven – and of course, Comics Corner. But rather than make all booths permanent, part of the beauty will be that the floor will always be dynamic. The summer can see robust film studio presence. The fall can be more of a TV vibe. Of course, Halloween will bring horror. Christmas will focus on toys, etc. And always – comics. And mix up the booths with some more traditional attractions. Comic-themed rides? Again you can follow Disney. Just ape the groove of It’s A Small World, taking a graphic trip through the comics of international artists. Drawing classes for kids? Automatronic Kirby creations? You can even have comic-themed games of chance. The scale could be as small as a carnival or as huge as Six Flags, either way, it’ll help keep visitors coming. And everybody would have a chance to go. Fans will have a plethora of calendar dates and preferred events to choose from. Retailers can come and go, as can publishers, artist booths and so on. The volume of an endless con will make it possible to charge attendees and exhibitors more affordable rates. The halls need not be as crowded. The current hotel stock could better handle demand. The little guys can get more space. The big guns can take over seasonally. You could go to Con five times a year and see five totally different shows. Regular people will want to go there. They will see comics. Their kids will bug them to buy comics. More people will read comics – hell, a retailer from their home town they never knew could be on the floor. I myself would go often.
Move The Con To Disneyland
No, I am not kidding about this either. Why not? For the love of Mickey, Disney owns Marvel. We’re already halfway there. But a park’s not a convention center, right? Doesn’t have to be – if you’re willing to shake up the paradigm. Think of book fairs. All the booths are outside, people walking around in fresh air, pleasant atmosphere and those visitor thoroughfares have lots of space to set booths up on. Plus you gotta admit it – setting it all up in Disneyland would be awesome. Stroll through Main Street USA on a bright day, browsing back issues and new works. Move on to drunk late night studio parties on Space Mountain. And they have the hotel bandwidth in Anaheim for sure. I’d move it to a colder month – say October – which is Disney’s down season anyway, so it might even make more sense. No need to consider facilities – obviously Disneyland has that covered. And we could get existing rides done up in comics designs – anyone up for an EC Comics-style makeover of Pirates of the Caribbean? Nerds would own the park for a week – or maybe a little longer. A longer duration would allow events and panels to be repeated, perhaps relieving the waits and affording more access to more eager fans. And if there are lines – look, it’s Disneyland. That’s where lines were born. Besides, they could make good use of the neighboring, less popular Disney California Adventure to alleviate the crowds (you can drink there, but not in Disneyland, so maybe THAT’S where the studio parties happen). I like this as a second option.
Jekyll And Hyde: Split The Baby In Two
I’m not as sure about this one, but it’s worthy of some chatter. How about one Con for fans, and another one for Pros only? One Con can be all about the geeks coming to buy and check out cool stuff. Another can be about people buying and selling their work, networking, pitching, etc. The pro one can be like MIPCOM or the American Film Market, the other one can be more like a really cool film festival. I’m not sure as to how the dynamics would shake out, but I’ll leave it for others to decide.
Double Trouble: Just Do It Twice
Yes, this idea is just a new twist on the above idea. In Japan, they have their largest Con twice a year. Comiket is the single largest comics draw on the planet, boasting 500,000 visitors every time – or a million attendees a year. That’s like nine times as much as San Diego Comic-Con. It’s a weird Con as it focuses on self-published comics exclusively. Technically, it’s not a Con, but a Fair. Such quibbling aside, the point is that maybe having two Comic-Cons a year, keeping the current set-up, could allow the opportunity for access to allow more of the folks being squeezed out an opportunity to get their time in.
Act Like A Normal Convention: Go Mobile
My dad’s a doctor and he belongs to a bunch of medical associations. Every year they have their meetings in different cities. And it works. All of the Normals do things this way. We can be like the Normals. Don’t be afraid. Now, I don’t want to rattle off all of the variables this would introduce to the Con, but I doubt most folks would be comfortable with the idea of having to deal with a whole new town every time. Still, you could add a local flavor each time, giving professionals from the region some deference, give them their chance to shine more brightly. A Seattle Con can be most distinctive from a New Orleans venue or Boston, etc. In this scenario, rather than be held hostage by the whims of the San Diego City Council, cities will bend over backwards for the chance to host. It’ll be like the Olympics. Comic Con will leave ruinous municipal debts in its wake, while raking in the dough…
If you think these are harebrained schemes – take a closer look at what Comic-Con is really considering. My ideas can’t be any dumber – and surely there are those who may have more radical solutions, equally warranting serious consideration. Who knows? One of these might just hit the nail on the head. There’s only one thing we can all agree upon with certainty: the current model is just not sustainable. Too many people want to go. There’s not enough space. Too many folks are excluded. There’s nowhere to stay and you gotta be ruthless & obsessed or connected to get in. The top dogs are eating up the floor more and more every year. At some point, all these stresses are going to make the thing buckle. The current structure just can’t hold her. I’d rather try something nutty than to await the inevitable implosion and decline – which by the way, would solve all the Con’s problems, as it would shrink and turn back into the thing comics fans really want to see anyway.
Argentinean-born New Yorker and NYU film school graduate Miguel Cima is a veteran of film, television and music. He has worked for such companies as Warner Bros., Dreamworks and MTV. An avid comic book collector since he could read, Miguel began writing stories in 4th grade and has not slowed down since. He is a world traveler, accomplished writer, filmmaker, and comics creator. He is the writer, director and host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics. Follow Dig Comics on Facebook. Read Miguel’s comic book recommendations.
Dig Comics: No Tale to Tell
Guest columnist Miguel Cima, director/host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics, looks at what makes comics so great, and what’s holding them back.
“Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.” – Mark Twain, author’s introduction to The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
A couple of years back, I had the unenviable task of leading a discussion with a group of seasoned comic artists in which I was defending the position that sequential art does not need to follow a narrative. I was up against giants of the field like Sergio Aragonés, Bill Morrison and William Stout. What I proposed was borderline blasphemy to some in the room: that you can do something BESIDES tell a story with comics. And to make matters worse – I am not a professional illustrator. I can’t even draw a decent stick figure. But I am a student of art and I firmly believe that as with film and writing, the assumption that any art form is but a vehicle for “story” is wholly wrongheaded. Poets have proven this for centuries, using words not to convey a series of comprehensible acts with a summary resolution, but merely singing (or screaming) in strange places. The 20th century brought narrative in literature to its knees when the likes of Virginia Woolf and William Faulkner introduced stream of consciousness prose. And I won’t even get into James Joyce. Non-narrative film is a bit more esoteric. Many people have great difficulty with the works of Maya Deren, Stan Brakhage and Bruce Conner. I sure did when I was first exposed to them. But eventually, my need to challenge my mind and surprise my senses got the best of me. And so it is with comics.
Ghoulash by Sam Hiti
Sam Hiti is one of my favorite independent comic book creators. Diligently self-publishing everything from horror to far-out sci-fi, his rugged and expressive style is always an eye-grabber. With his sketchbook collection, Ghoulash, he offers a window into a period of inky drawings which seem grown from a series of mythic and hellish visions. He makes no pretenses as to any order in the images. Aztec gods, bizarre undead figures, voluptuous femme fatales, even the visage of John Rambo all flow from one page to the next, as if compiling some impossible-to-follow fantasy action film. I doubt Hiti would admit any reasoning for the sequence of the images, and surely they make no comprehensive sense as a “story” – and yet I can’t shake the feeling that not only do these pictures all go together VERY organically, I feel even more sure that there is, at least, an unconscious motive in the grouping. After putting it down, I definitely feel like I’ve been to a real place, that something happened, but it is ineffable. I am not a fan of most sketchbooks, they are usually meant for completist uber-fans or fellow travelers studying technique. What Hiti delivers here compels me to believe his psyche really was in this series of happenings, his hand drew it, and the whole block of pages together may as well be a slide show of a vacation to the darker parts of his mind. And I love it.
Do It Yourself Doodler by David Jablow
An altogether different sort of sketchbook – which may in fact be a very deliberate work pretending to be a sketchbook – is Do It Yourself Doodler by David Jablow (published by AdHouse Books this September). More lighthearted, this very interesting entry from last year is actually more of a game for your mind in the form of comics. Jablow’s formula is very simple: he issues page after page with the same female figure in the same position, resting on the same part of the page. The thing is, each page is a totally different scene. On one, our protagonist is floating in space, in another she is a cowgirl riding a bucking bull, on another, she is a riveter working on a skyscraper. If it sounds boring – it really isn’t. I rarely use the term “clever” as a compliment, but Jablow plays against our expectations very cleverly indeed, pranking us with his seemingly effortless jaunts around a static character. The result is a dynamic and fun journey through a pan-genre landscape of recognizable pop culture milieus, employing humor and graced with excellent draftsmanship. Jablow really has taken a rather mundane doodle and transposed it through the many worlds comics readers find themselves in so often. His is an enjoyable experiment, not the least bit pretentious, and with great reverence of the history of the art form for good measure.
Pim & Francie: The Golden Bear Days by Al Columbia
I save Pim & Francie for last because I hate talking about it. It scares me. No, that’s not right – it shakes me DEEPLY, to the soul, brings into the light the worst of fears. The great Al Columbia’s compilation of sketches – not to be confused with a sketchbook compilation – amounts to the graphic interpretation of nightmare. Not in the classical sense, mind you. There’s no particular situation, no old legend, no blood and guts. That’s not what nightmares are. Nightmares are those experiences where menacing figures you can’t understand stalk you, where the floor you are walking on dissolves like mist under your feet exposing you to the abyss, where a child’s idyllic image of the world has that one bit of corrupted stage prop, where the veil of reality becomes thin all too quickly, disorienting the dreamer instantly, dizzying, and all the while, death and worse is close behind. Your worst nightmares never make sense, you just know they are terrible. The visual information can’t add up, adding to the unknowable fear. Columbia uses exacting skill to take your eyes there. In one panel, children look out a window, where the background is in bold ink, but their legs and feet and the floorboards are thinly sketched in pencil. Which might not matter, except that something terrible is approaching the house and their only possible sanctuary is disappearing. A walk through the woods includes malevolent plants and flowers. A four-armed creature wielding knives with an uncannily seductive smile keeps popping up on random pages, often lurking too close to the children. That’s Columbia’s mastery. He knows how to take the symbols of comfort and joy – the kids, a smile, a flower – and put just the right touch on them to pervert the feeling they convey. His style goes a step further, employing the stamp of early comic strips like Thimble Theatre and The Katzenjammer Kids – even perhaps Buster Brown. The touchstone of that bygone era of early comics, where the magic was used to delight, makes the distorted landscape all the more terrible. What we end up with is a map of lost innocence, or perhaps a guidebook to just how terrifying the ignorant world of childhood can be. It’s a long book, and it offers no redemption or respite. Just like a nightmare, you have to awaken from it: it has to just end. It’s a true masterpiece from a genuinely disturbed mind and it shocks me even to recall it…
There are no stories here. You have to end such expectations if you wish to seek the next level of artistic consciousness. What is communicated in the end is something far more sublime than any narrative can deliver: experience. These works put you in a place with no guide but your eyes and mind. You don’t have the luxury of being told what to think, what to feel. You have the privilege of discovering something wholly other, relying on your wits alone. Folks like Picasso, Jackson Pollack, Van Gough and Frieda Kahlo did this for us in the realm of painting. I invite you to follow that same path which these great comics have laid out for us as well.
Argentinean-born New Yorker and NYU film school graduate Miguel Cima is a veteran of film, television and music. He has worked for such companies as Warner Bros., Dreamworks and MTV. An avid comic book collector since he could read, Miguel began writing stories in 4th grade and has not slowed down since. He is a world traveler, accomplished writer, filmmaker, and comics creator. He is the writer, director and host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics. Follow Dig Comics on Facebook. Read Miguel’s comic book recommendations.
Dig Comics: Wednesday Surprise – Bizarro Depravity Edition
Guest columnist Miguel Cima, director/host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics, continues his series of essays looking at what makes comics so great, and what’s holding them back.
[NOTE: In this space from time to time, I will write about a Wednesday Surprise. What is that? It’s a comic that takes me to a new place in the comicsphere. Visions written and drawn to feed some starved part of my brain I didn’t know was there. I spend a lot of time and money to find these comics. When they hit my eyes, I remember why I still seek them out, why I don’t quit comics. If your consciousness could use some expanding from sequential art once in a while, you may like coming here. And now that you’ve read this, you won’t need to do so again. The same blurb will appear in this space word for word and after all – you won’t keep reading to not be surprised.]
If I may, please allow me to define a sub-genre which I think I may be making up: Bizarro Depravity comics. The simple definition is: sequential art employing elements of destructive and socially unacceptable behavior and imagery, meant to induce moral and/or philosophical confusion, and characterized by surreal narrative and/or rendering which is often disturbing, yet causes your mind to engage in new visual languages. That’s all a very fancy way of saying, these comics are really messed up, but in a smart artistic way, and the violence and antagonism encountered is meant to challenge your brain, not exploit your emotions. If you are still confused, I can’t help you, you’ll just have to check out the comics I’m talking about.
The Bulletproof Coffin: Disinterred #4 by David Hine and Shaky Kane
This week’s Wednesday Surprise was The Bulletproof Coffin: Disinterred, issue #4 (Image Comics). You really don’t need to read the previous series (the awesome surreal love letter to comics, The Bulletproof Coffin) or even the previous issues to “get” what writer David Hine and artist Shaky Kane offer up here. As they explain in their foreword, they’ve simply taken 84 comics panels, cut them up, and laid them out in a non-linear narrative form. They even encourage you to start reading from any random point and progress in any direction you want. The result is a comic book with no rules, and yet a distinct and deliberate evocation for your mind. Each panel is an individual scene of nightmare, drudged from everything including pop culture, crime sheets, horror comics, sci-fi movies, junky novels, and childhood fears. Some of the panels are related and could be placed together for their own narrative. But why do that? Just like some fevered dream, time doesn’t need to happen chronologically here, logic doesn’t need to organize events, and control is out the window. Reading through the issue is like a breathless voyage through terror and our own worst thoughts. And reason won’t save you: it’s been purposefully eschewed here. It’s a funhouse ride through the rotten dregs of your soul, and a direct homage to William S. Burroughs’ Naked Lunch which is acknowledged both through the rather odd afterword as well as the “Where’s Waldo?” game of Burroughs references littered throughout. If you enjoy being deeply spooked and can let go of need for a conventional story, I recommend you buy this comic (and I would also pick up a copy of Shaky Kane’s solo work – Monster Truck – which is not quite as harsh or non-linear).
Bulletproof Coffin: Disinterred #4, page 5 by David Hine and Shaky Kane
The Cabbie Vol. 1 by Martí
So of course, this has me recalling some Bizarro Depravity Wednesday Surprise comics from the past that I’d like to share here with you. And we’ll stay clear of non-linear narrative by starting with the page-turner The Cabbie, by Spanish creator Martí (Fantagraphics Books). This complex reaction to Chester Gould’s Dick Tracy, the Martin Scorsese film Taxi Driver, and the Underground Comix scene from the ’70s and ’80s was cooked up in the post-Franco era in Spain. After years of repression, artists really let it all hang out, pushing boundaries of acceptability and subject matter. The Cabbie follows the tale of a pious, hard-working taxi driver who has a penchant for crime-fighting. His unwitting involvement in catching a crook draws him into the world of a poverty-stricken criminal family living in the slums by a sewer drain pipe. There’s no shortage of hookers, booze, knife fights, toxic sludge and murder in this landscape. And the deeper the Cabbie gets into it, the darker his own soul becomes – but maybe he had a head start. After all, what seems like a decent citizen on the surface turns out to be a fanatical weirdo who wildly drifts between great avarice and deep guilt, all the time projecting a veneer of decency. As for the depraved criminal family – they have a good side, too. They really care about each other – even if that means promoting robbery and prostitution to their children as an acceptable survival tool. Visually, The Cabbie throws stark classical comic stripping in your face, confusing your eyeballs with the expectation of a palatable Sunday funny page, all the while drawing you deeper into the madness and perversions found on the fringes of civilization. I can’t help but wonder if this wasn’t an important influence on Kaz’s brilliant Underworld strip, which similarly takes us to the dark alleys and gutters of the mind – albeit in a far more humorous way. There’s no real laughs in The Cabbie, but it’s not really depressing at all. It’s just massively absurd and insane. I did laugh a few times, but in that “holy shit, this is fucked up” kind of way. But I have to emphasize: The Cabbie is a really good solid tale. There are no abstractions here, only a moral ambiguity which is probably far more real than most of us would like to admit.
Prison Pit Book One by Johnny Ryan
Back to being funny, Bizarro Depravity has a strong foundation in comedy, and perhaps the most extreme version of this in the last few years is Johnny Ryan’s Prison Pit (Fantagraphics Books). Three volumes of this gratuitously gruesome humor book have graced my grey matter so far. In this work, Ryan essentially deconstructs the fantasy genre and superheroes at the same time. The story – a minimal prop for the action – is about a bunch of super-powered creatures from across the cosmos lumped onto a penitentiary planet which becomes a de facto gladiatorial arena for some very weird monsters. The grizzly battles are long and protracted – and uniquely violent. The trick is in the various abilities of the fighters. One gets its head torn off, only to have a much more horrific and deadly set of appendages emerge. Another monster gets eaten, chewed to bits and shit out – only to transform his fecal form into a corrosive blob that keeps fighting. Yes, every disgusting body part gets Ryan’s attention – and he makes a few up as well. Alien genitals, mutated orifices, it’s all limited only by Ryan’s thick imagination. His drawing style is far too funny to be disturbing, but what he makes you look at forces you to think about dismemberment, regeneration and excretion in a whole new way. It’s made for horror and fantasy fans, pressing you to re-imagine the traditional meta-human powers. Things like great strength, flight, fire, and telekinesis are amongst the familiar fare in Prison Pit – they’re just not the limit of things. Yes, it’s a venture into potty humor, totally immature and adolescent, so if you don’t think ass jokes are funny, don’t bother. But if you do, and you have a strong constitution, Prison Pit offers some of the most creative – and I MUST stress the term creative – blood-splattered, monster-filled, battle-ridden experiences in comics. And it’s damned funny too. But don’t confuse Ryan’s intent with a horror book like Crossed. While Crossed has its sick sense of humor as well, Prison Pit isn’t meant to give you night terrors. It’s just a smart and goofy guy finding a way to have some fun being naughty while making fun of the typical fanboy books which so many “adults” take so seriously. And like all three books here, it’s got its own distinctive place in the Bizarro Depravity genre.
Argentinean-born New Yorker and NYU film school graduate Miguel Cima is a veteran of film, television and music. He has worked for such companies as Warner Bros., Dreamworks and MTV. An avid comic book collector since he could read, Miguel began writing stories in 4th grade and has not slowed down since. He is a world traveler, accomplished writer, filmmaker, and comics creator. He is the writer, director and host of the award-winning documentary Dig Comics. Follow Dig Comics on Facebook. Read Miguel’s comic book recommendations.
