Original Art Sundays (Monday) No. 261: Sharp Invitations: Curt, p. 18

I've had this page done for about 6 weeks. Just haven't had time to post.
Here we go.
When we left off, Sara, who our heroine (me) had met at the library, stopped in. During the ensuing conversation, I told her of my weekend with Curt. Sara said she would be ashamed to introduce me to her lesbian friends as her girlfriend.
Read on.

So much to unpack here.
This was one of those moments that we live without thinking about it, and later realize its impact. At this point (early 1990s) there was an even wider division between much of the lesbian community and what served as the trans community than there is now. While the term TERF was not in wide use, the phenomenon was hardly new, dating back in the public consciousness to Janice Raymond's 1979 hate-filled screed The Transsexual Empire. I made myself read that vile thing. I no longer have my copy.
Also, as Sara said this, it touched on my confusion and internalized shame. I had been out about 6 years. I had "the surgery" about a year prior to this. I was in my first serious relationship after becoming myself and I felt like I was supposed to have all the answers, and I knew that I was blowing it. Then the woman I'm interested in tells me her qualms. Really, could I blame her?
This calls for internal dialogue!
To that end, I stole a device from Harvey Pekar. There's an American Splendor story that consists entirely of Harvey talking to himself about a recent failed relationship. In the final exchange, he reflects on the old adage that failure allows for the possibility of growth. Harvey says he's tired of being alone and concludes, "right now, I'd trade growth for happiness." That really stuck with me. I decided that the narrative device he used there was perfect for this page. The silhouette is a clean visual device, but much trickier than one thinks! By reversing the black and white, I was able to get a sense of internal dialogue. I will use this again at key moments in this book, but I don't want to overuse it.
The layout of the first panel also frustrated me. I wanted a primal scream but nothing too big, if that makes any sense. I finally cribbed a pose from the Summertime number in Ralph Bakshi's American Pop, which I still think is the best thing he ever did (with the possible exception of Christmas in Tattertown).
Nothing spectacular about the second panel. It's there to convey a passive attitude, and it does that.
It took three tries to get this page the way I wanted it. It was frustrating, and it took much longer than it should have, but it was ultimately worth it.
Materials used on this page:
Canson 2 ply recycled Bristol board
Lead holder
no. 4 solid lead
Magic Rub eraser
Straightedge
crow quill
Princeton Synthetic Brushes No. 2, 4 and 8
FW Artist's White
tight spot correction brush
Our story takes an embarrassing comedic turn next time.
Next post: Page 19, where things catch up with our heroine a bit.

Best Comics of 2014, No. 1 (tie) Rasputin and Second Avenue Caper

Finally finishing this up! Hope you find it worth the wait.
I couldn't decide between these two books, so I'm naming them both No. 1. And I could not imagine more different books.

Rapsutin, published by IDW, is a supernatural take on the near-mythic historical figure. Alex Grecian's writing is tense, empathetic and witty. Riffing on Rasputin's supposed supernatural abilities, the series begins with the character's execution, then flashes back to his childhood.

Example of Rissomo's work
from Rasputin #2

IDW's non-licensed titles tend to have a bit of a "house style" to their art, especially in the horror line, and this is ostensibly a horror book, at least in part. While Riley Rissomo's line work has the same sketchy energy as Damien Worm's work on The October Faction, for example, the art in Rasputin has a greater variety to its page layouts, and Ivan Plasencia's coloring has a much greater variety than the constant somber Earth tones of the former book. I get it, you guys like Ben Templesmith's work.  Gritty monochrome. I like that, but as Rapsutin clearly demonstrates, there are other approaches already!
There are many subtleties to the art in Rasputin, ranging from its clever use of anatomical illustration as a plot device to the use of white and pastel colored panel borders.
In terms of the writing, it speaks well for the book that it begins with the character's denouement (read: death by multiple assassinations), and yet pulls the reader in deeper with each issue. This despite the foregone conclusion!
The second Best of 2014 works on a  different kind of magic. Joyce Brabner's Second Avenue Caper, her first long-form solo work since the amazing Flashpoint: the La Prenca Bombing (1989), reiterates the quality of her work as a solo writer. Her work is often eclipsed in the public mind by that of her late husband, Harvey Pekar. Between savoring Flashpoint and her work in Real War Stories, I've always thought that her solo writing was unjustly neglected.

Now Second Avenue Caper is out, so to speak, and the reading public is finally giving her work its due. If I had to categorize this, I'd put it in the burgeoning category of Graphic Memoir. By melding some of her late husband Harvey Pekar's personal anecdotal style (wow, that's an awkward phrase!) with her incisive political writing, Brabner has created a riveting document of the unlikely camaraderie forged in the early days of the AIDS epidemic. What begins as two old friends sharing a cup of coffee becomes a whirlwind of guerrilla healthcare, gangsters, and international drug smuggling, all in the name of attempting to survive an undefined and ill-treated disease. The story is reminiscent of Dallas Buyer's Club, but without the cynicism that I felt dominated that film.

Zingarelli and Brabner use the silent pause to great effect!

Mark Zingarelli's art again brings American Splendor to mind, due to his connection to that project. He faces the challenge of a dialogue-heavy narrative very smoothly, using the standard devices of changing angle and distance cleanly, and controlling pacing through the use of silent panels.
As is the case in the best nonfiction narratives, the whole is larger than the sum of its parts and readers are left with the sense of surviving the harrowing early days of the AIDS epidermic alongside Joyce and her compatriots. As a caregiver working with People With AIDS, this work resonates with me. My co-workers have told me many horror stories of these early days, so Second Avenue Caper rings true.
That about does it for 2014. I'll be back to posting art this weekend!

"The Congressman from Georgia has the word ballon..."

It's been announced at The Beat and at Bleeding Cool (see links on left) that GA Representative John Lewis will be writing a graphic novel for Top Shelf.
Top Shelf has done some innovative work, including a handsome edition of Moore and Campbell's FROM HELL, Jeff Lemire's pre-Sweet Tooth work Essex County, the continually fascinating and frustrating League of Extraordinary Gentlemen series from Masters Moore and O'Neill, and the popular (with everybody but me) Blankets by Craig Thompson.

Representative Lewis and co.

A couple things need to be noted.
First, no artist has been named at this point.
Second, this book is based on Lewis' experiences during the 1960s Civil Rights Movement.
To quote an article in the Tuscon Citizen, reprinted in USA Today:
"As a young man, Lewis was beaten in Selma, Ala., on the day in 1965 that has become known as Bloody Sunday. Marchers were on their way from Selma to Montgomery when Lewis and others were beaten by Alabama state troopers on the Edmund Pettus bridge."

That's Lewis on the left, next to Dr. King.
Sounds like a promising project, and I'm eager to read it, but all accounts imply that Lewis and his co-writer, Congressional staffer Andrew Aydin, are doing a factual account of events. Shouldn't this then be categorized as "graphic memoir" a la Fun Home or released without categorization, like Harvey Pekar's underrated and revolutionary Macedonia?
Perhaps it should just be called a "graphic history" like Harvey's history of The Beats.
Does it matter?
For the umpteenth time, yes. If the diverse potential of the form is to be recognized, it cannot be seen as just one thing. That would be akin to referring to all long-form narratives as novels, rather than recognizing their variations as epic poetry, screenplays, or religious texts like the Gita or the Bible.
Beyond that, there's the issue of veracity. Howard Cruse was taken to task, rather unfairly, I thought, by comic creator Ho Che Anderson for Cruse's memories of the times around the Civil Rights Movement in Stuck Rubber Baby. So questions of fiction/nonfiction/metafiction are concerns here as well.
Finally, the news accounts are sort of true.
This is the first time a Congressman has authored a graphic novel. But he's not the first Congressman who worked in the comics form!
That distinction goes to John Miller Baer, whose comics first ran in the Non-partisan Leader in 1916.

A rare color piece by Baer

He served one term as a US Representative from North Dakota. He was not re-elected, and returned to his first loves, journalism and political cartooning. His cartoons were primarily concerned with farmers' rights and the evolution of granges.
His work was stylistically typical of the period, heavy on detail and tentative in its handling of text.
Thematically, his message was a departure from the more well-known political cartoonists that preceded him. Winsor McCay, for example, though a humanist, was very much in keeping with some of the more stringent political views of his employer, William Randolph Hearst. McCay's views on social problems manifest in many of his own works, notably the film Sinking of the Lusitania.

So carry on, Representative Lewis! You are following a proud tradition, whether you know it or not!
I love telling my Comics History students about Baer. Thanks to the innovative efforts of Rep. Lewis, who is scheduled to receive the Congressional Medal of Freedom, the nation's highest civilian honor, later this month, I have a window to share Baer's achievement here as well.
Left: one of Baer's cartoons, for your, ahem, scholarly review.
Below:
Cartoonist (and Congressman) Baer.

Original Art Sundays #53: A Dialogue with Harvey Pekar

Well, I shot myself in the foot by not properly saving the scan of the work I was planning on posting today.
However, as I was contemplating Hara Kari, I realized that from these setbacks we glean giant strides forward (to quote the great 80s film Real Genius).
A few week ago, Harvey Pekar died. I was lucky enough to chat with him once, and while I'm sure he would never recall me, my memories of him are vivid and positive.
This happened the same day my most recent relationship ended quite abruptly and unexpectedly. She spontaneously decided (in the middle of a month) that she had to live in another state, a thousand miles away, in three days. To say I was hurt and angry is like calling the Chicago Fire a weenie roast.
It didn't end well. Does it ever, really?
Her reasons are her own. Suffice to say I didn't agree and I've had more harmonious partings, though I hope that time heals that as well.
Shaken by Harvey's death and the unexpected turn in my personal life, I spent part of the following day re-reading my (ahem) complete collection of American Splendor.
I found this story. Not my favorite Harvey story (that's An Everyday Horror Story, from issue #5), but quite on point.
I chose to make a short video of it. For a soundtrack, I used R. Crumb's Cheap Suit Serenaders, as he and Harvey were friends and worked together often.
Timing and pacing this was an interesting experience. I wanted the text to be on-screen long enough to be legible, but not so long as to be tedious. Also, a series of static images can be less than exciting, so I used bits of motion and some image repetitions to shake it up just a bit.
I'm content with the result.
Full screen viewing recommended for reading ease!