Chasing ComicCon

Aug01
by on 1 August 2014

Despite its continuing popularity, many die-hard comic book fans decry the state of the modern San Diego ComicCon as a trophy that has lost its luster, that it is not what it once was and embodies people, products, and values that are alien to the core comic book community.  The most popular panels are about movies instead of comic books, as are most of the signings and merchandise booths.  At least the big movies at ComicCon are “comic book movies,” though that hasn’t stopped casts of major motion picture releases or television shows––those who don’t have any ties to comics at all––from making appearances, creating long lines, and demanding a panel in the venerable Hall H.  The argument boils down to the fact that ComicCon only values the last syllable of its name.  While, in many ways, that is absolutely true, in my own San Diego ComicCon experiences, the drift away from comics was what the experience was all about.

I went to the San Diego ComicCon twice, in a row, but it was back when I was a teenager in 1994 and 1995, and I had no idea what to expect.  It was a big deal back then, no doubt, but it was a different kind of big deal than it is now, having completely redefined the term in the interim. However, at its heart, the convention operates on the same guiding principles: meet your idols, buy stuff you don’t need, and also get free stuff you don’t need.  The first year I went, I only did so for the most obvious goal: to have books signed by my hero, Image Comics founder and penciller extraordinaire, Jim Lee.  I was 13 the first year I went, so I certainly had no money to spend on wares––I also was under the self-deprecating ideal that any of the “important” comics that I wanted I would never be able find at a price I could afford.  It was only until I got there that I realized the third guiding principal––free stuff––was a thing at all, but that was a bonus and never a reason to drive the six hours every year.

In 1994, the Image Comics revolution was about as big as it could get and I proudly joined that movement, having followed Jim Lee from Marvel’s X-Men to his creator-owned X-Men-adjacent title, WildC.A.T.s.  I played the dutiful acolyte, standing in line.  It took two hours, and with every step my excitement crested and waned as the optimistic aspect of my personality wrestled with the defeatist.  By the time I got to Jim Lee, my psyche was exhausted and all I could do was hand him books with a shaky hand and ask questions, none of which I really remember.

Presenting Jim Lee with the mystery card.

Presenting Jim Lee with the mystery card.

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Behind Every Line and Between Every Panel

Jun27
by on 27 June 2014

Comics are an inherently overlooked medium.  I don’t necessarily mean that in the sense of cultural appreciation––we have the multi-billion dollar Marvel cinematic universe to prove that isn’t true––I mean as a reader reading comics.  Being overlooked is the point, however.  A thoughtfully crafted page layout naturally guides the eye from one panel to the next, causing your brain to not even notice that the images are static and, perhaps, nonsensical when taken out of context.  Comics rely on the fact that a reader’s brain fills in the gaps between the panels––formally called gutters––with action and camera moves so that the next panel does make sense.  Part of that trick is to give the reader just enough information to get the gist and keep moving.  As you can guess, the artist can easily manipulate this to either slow down or speed up a reader, depending on what the story (or creator) demands.

As quickly as it takes to read a comic, the amount of work that goes into creating not only a book, not only a page, but a panel is painstaking (though, panel composition also involves a lot of instinct, too).  Think of it this way: in a movie, a filmmaker gets twenty-four frames per second to show the viewer a single shot.  Not to be patronizing, but that is, again, twenty-four still images in a single second of on-screen time.  That’s 1,440 still images per minute of film.  Furthermore, a shot in a movie can last a few seconds to a minute or two (or five or ten), which means thousands of still images could come together to show movement and progression of character and story.  A panel is pretty much (with exceptions, of course) the equivalent of a single shot in a film.  Again, not to patronize, but a panel is a single drawing.

Panel01

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The Long John Primer, Part 4

Jun23
by on 23 June 2014

The first week of Long John updates hangs overhead and, naturally, I begin to worry.  I want to explain everything before the first page updates; I want to immerse every reader into Long John’s world from the get-go; I want you to know everything about everybody with all the research and changes that have happened since I started putting this thing to paper.  But that’s not how stories work.  I only dole out pieces at a time.  Some pieces you’ll never see, and that’s okay.

What I will do, however, is let you in on a little bit of the background, inspiration, and motivation that has made Long John what it is.  For the last four days, you have been getting chunks of what helped make Long John into the comic it is (or will be).

4.  The Western Factor

I can’t write a primer for a western comic without discussing westerns.  However, it is last on the list for a reason.  I love western movies, but Long John is influenced more by my interest and research into the actual West rather than by fictional versions of it.  That’s not to say that there aren’t some westerns that don’t evoke a similar tone of what I’m going for and, thusly, have influenced Long John.

When it comes to westerns, I’m rather picky and am mostly a Clint Eastwood devotee.  From his filmography, the one that probably fits nicely alongside Long John is High Plains Drifter.  It’s a weird movie, in the sense that it’s uncomfortable, but also “weird” in the literary sense––the bizarre events of the movie seem to be resolved through spooky and supernatural means, but a perfectly logical explanation could also work–we just don’t know.  It’s a great story where everyone in it is rather despicable, but that’s what makes it stand out.  High Plains Drifter is a moral tale, drenched in metaphor and thematics and is a must-see even outside of the Long John context.  Another important aspect that links this movie to Long John is that it was filmed at Mono Lake, where Long John starts.

Yeah, High Plains Drifter is a weird movie. Source: IMDB.com

Yeah, High Plains Drifter is a weird movie. Source: IMDB.com

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