When I was in school, teachers would periodically pass out newsprint fliers from Scholastic, highlighting a number of their books. Many of us would go through and circled all the cool-looking stuff we'd like, then beg Mom for enough money to order the books. We'd dutifully tromp back to school to deliver a pile of change and our poorly written order forms to the teacher. She (all of my teachers back then were female) filed the orders and, what seemed like an eternity later, would eventually pass out whatever books we had ordered.
For whatever reason(s), this practice didn't survive in my district past grade school, but I noticed today that Scholastic still continues with the procedure. I was browsing through their current offerings for 2nd-3rd graders and, after a cursory scan, I had the idea to see if I could channel my 8-year-old self and figure out what he'd like to get.
The first thing that pops out is Star Wars The Clone Wars: Tethan Battle Adventure. Back then, I was all about Star Wars, not surprisingly and picked up everything I could get my hands on. Which, you might recall, was quite a fair bit less than what's available today!
At the time, I wasn't a big fantasy fan (my gaming days were still ahead of me) but I did like a lot of the old monster movies I saw on Saturday afternoon TV. I recall having more than a couple books about monsters -- mostly werewolves, vampires, mummies and Frankenstein-style creations but there was some overlap into ancient Greek legends (minotaurs, hydra, etc.) and cryptozoology (Sasquatch, Loch Ness Monster, etc.). So Beast Quest: Tagus the Night Horse and An Awfully Beastly Business: Werewolf vs. Dragon probably would've stood out a bit. I'm not sure if these would have been at the top of my list, but they certainly would've caught my eye.
But a monster book that probably would've elicited a little more attention is Ursula Vernon's Dragonbreath. To which, I suspect, most readers of this blog will respond with a confused, "Wha-huh?"
According to Vernon's own site, Dragonbreath is a "combination of text and graphic novel" that relay "the adventures of Danny Dragon, a young dragon attending a school for reptiles and amphibians. Join Danny and his best friend Wendell the Iguana as they travel under the sea outwitting bullies, fending off giant squid, meet giant heron, run from ninjas,and fight were-hotdogs, all the while trying to avoid getting an F in Science!"
That definitely sounds like the type of thing I'd be interested in seeing NOW, but all an 8-year-old would have to go on is what's in the flier... ... which I think would've captured my younger self's interest.
This harkens back to my post from about a month ago talking about kids' and young adult comics. Vernon's actually just come out with a second Dragonbreath book and I'll have to cite my own failings for missing that entirely before now.
But it's curious to note that, after spending most of my comics background looking at what are stereotypically considering adolescent books, I now find I'm drawn more towards books aimed at a decidedly younger audience.
My friend Jeff pointed me to this long-ish article by Jeff Boyd entitled "On the Origins of Comics: New York Double-take" from The Evolutionary Review. I haven't read through it in its entirety yet, but from what I've read/scanned so far, it's a very comprehensive, but still fairly concise, look at the medium as a whole.
I've been watching OK, Go's latest video ad nauseum, in part because of the insane amount of cool engineering that went into it, but also because I've been enjoying the song and it's messages.
But there's some interesting things going on in the video beyond just the "Oh, wow" factor. What's readily apparent is that there's more and larger destruction going on as the video progresses. The ball bearings give way to Legos. To a shopping cart. To a dining room set. To a raised platform with band members on it. To a car. To room full of trash cans. This, of course, follows the pattern of the music, which gets louder and more raucous in the last half of the song.
BUT!
Every bit of it was engineered. It looks very chaotic, with the falling pails and ping pong balls, the paper airplane barrage, the flying mannequin, the avalanche of umbrellas and balloons... But it was, by necessity, very choreographed. Every element had to be in a specific place at a specific time, or the whole thing doesn't work. Keep in mind that it was NOT just one action leading to another, in a typical Rube Goldberg like fashion, but it was one action leading to another IN TIME WITH THE SONG.
The thinking that went into this is actually quite similar to creating a comic! Even moreso than an actual Rube Goldberg cartoon!
One action/sequence leads to the next, but it's the pacing of all the combined events that really help determine if the overall project is successful. If one sequence goes on too long, or not long enough, everything afterwards is a mis-fire.
Which, as long as you keep working at it, isn't a bad thing.
The guys in the video start it covered in paint. They'd run through their machine -- or at least good chunks of it -- several times before the version that's ultimately being presented. They had at least a few mis-fires, as evidenced by the destroyed piano sitting behind the falling one, the pile of smashed televisions, and the paint-splatter outlines of the band on the walls. It doesn't always work the way it's supposed to. I suspect that each time they ran through things, they learned a little more about the contraption that was just built. And once they got things "right", they passed that sequential art message on to us.
And, like all art, the message is subject to the interpreter. Some people will simply walk away with the song's lyrics ("Let it go, this too shall pass.") while others may come away with a notion of just how frickin' awesome physics can be. What about fans who know something of the legal battle OK, Go undertook to get this video online? There's the ideas of creativity, recycling, perseverance, teamwork... You can take storytelling ideas from the images, as I did.
There's certainly a lot to be said for studying how to create a comic book. You can study the works of Will Eisner and Jack Kirby, you can take courses on writing and drawing, you can be in touch with other creators and get tips from them...
But look at something like this, too. The song itself is pretty simple, not a whole lot in the way of lyrics or story. It's not particularly complex musically either. But there's still plenty to take away from it, if you just pay a little attention.
You know, the latest issue of Jack Kirby Collector hits the stands today and, as always, I suggest picking up a copy if you've got any interest in Jack or any of his creations. I know I was insanely impressed with what gets packed in to every issue, and was humbled when they ran my earliest piece on Jack's art -- "The Buttons of Doom" -- in #38 way back in 2003. It was about a year later when I started my regular column in the book. And while I am truly honored to be able to contribute to it, I am always blown away at how insignificant my work is compared to what else goes into the book. Even if you take away the mind-blowing Kirby art, the other columns and articles are always, always top-notch. I perpetually feel out-classed working on my pieces, and it regularly makes me step up my game to try to even come close to the rest of the book's contents.
So, with all sincerity, it's a really great book and worthy of your patronage despite the fact that I take up a page or two every issue!
So in my usual "late to the game" fashion, I just finished up reading Logicomix: An Epic Search for Truth. (Hm. As I wrote that, though, I went back and double-checked the dates. I guess it wasn't published in the U.S. until late September 2009, so I guess I'm not as far behind the curve as it sometimes feels like.)
"Epic" is indeed an appropriate word choice for this volume. For, while it's superficially a biography of Bertrand Russell, it extends much wider and deeper than his life, encompassing the rebirth of mathematics, the origins of logical thought process and, to some degree, the foundations of the computer age. It includes treatises on love, war, education and very nearly all aspects of life. The authors even acknowledge that it reaches beyond their scope as artists and refer back to the Greek tragedies Oresteia to drive their points home at the end.
One of my interests within comics that's developed in the past several years has been paying greater attention to non-fiction works. I think stumbling on and reading Joe Sacco's Safe Area Goražde made me acutely aware of what was possible with comics. I can confidently say that I learned more about the Bosnian War through Sacco than I did from all the combined news outlets that were available to me at the time. I could still enjoy that interplay of text and imagry and learn something to boot! That's incredibly powerful.
And Logicomix is precisely why that type of thing speaks to me. Yeah, I still learned something from reading Spain's biography of Che Guevara, but it just kind of sat there for me. Logicomix provided me with a greater understanding of who Russell was, certainly, but it was so masterfully executed that I would repeatedly become engrossed in the content. I would have read it one sitting except... well, it's over 350 pages long and, frankly, my chair wasn't THAT comfortable!
Interestingly, the story actually follows three tracts simultaneously. Russell's story is actually told by Russell himself, giving a lecture late in his life. Repeated cuts back to his standing at a podium are seamless and flow very smoothly. But there's also a story of the creators actually working on the book itself. They repeatedly cut in and discuss how the story should flow or where to place thematic emphasis. That, too, flows well with the overall narrative and all three aspects of the story are juggled superbly well that it really seems like a single narrative.
I think part of the failure of U.S. public education with regard to social studies is a misplaced focus on historical accuracy. Don't get me wrong, I think that they should be presenting an accurate model of history. However, in the first place, they're wildly inaccurate already. (How many people think Christopher Columbus landed in what would become the mainland United States? How many Americans were/are taught that the U.S. Civil War was about slavery? Who was actually taught about the massive government failures that led to the 1930's Dust Bowl?) In the second place, they generally force the regurgitation of facts and figures instead of any real understanding or comprehension. The exact dates surrounding the Watergate scandal, Richard Nixon's registration and America's withdrawl from Vietnam are largely irrelevant in the grand scheme of people's education; the larger issue is knowing that basic sequence occurred in the early- to mid-1970s in that order and the how/why of their importance.
Which is where books like Logicomix work. The authors freely acknowledge they took some liberties with the facts. About who actually spoke to whom, and when. Where people were on particular dates, and whether they attended particular conferences. Those were essentially edited to streamline the overall story. To make the important ideas easier to understand and digest. This is what can be done so well with comics. This is where the power of comics as an art form shines. And when it's done as masterfully as it has been in Logicomix, it leaves readers with a deeper understanding and appreciation of what the story was about. Even when they don't recall the specific dates and locations.
Logicomix was everything I look for in a great comic and more! Despite the daunting-looking page count and subject matter, I found it immensely absorbing and really enjoyed reading it. The overall storytelling was exceptional, and there were some really nice sequences that you can only do in comics. I think it achieved exactly what the authors hoped it would, and in the best way possible. Really, a great read!
"Zipster" reminiscences about the junk that used to be sold in the backs of comic books. Apparently, having aged a few years since he used read comics, he seems to enjoy the memories despite getting ripped off repeatedly...
A few weeks ago, Tek Jansen and Maintenance artist Robbi Rodriquez announced he was having a fire sale to get rid of the pile of art under his desk. For twenty bucks, he'll send you two piece of original art, somewhat randomly chosen.
I thought to myself, "Two pieces of original comic art for $20? That's only ten bucks a piece! Awesome!" I scrounged together the twenty bucks and fired it off with a note that said, only half-jokingly, that I wouldn't be too disappointed if one or both of the pieces of art happened to be from Maintenance as I particularly enjoyed that series.
Today, I found a flat package waiting on my doorstep... A sketch from his Frankie Get Your Gun which, I believe, he's still working on. (Somebody please correct me if I'm wrong and it's actually out there somewhere.)
And then, I carefully opened the package up to find... Two excellent pieces of original art from Maintenance featuring the two lead characters, as well as a highly detailed layout sketch also from the series.
See, you know what's great here? It's not so much that it was inexpensive -- though that was cool -- it's that he threw in a couple of other unique freebies just to say 'thanks for the support'. I mean, clearly, the quick sketch on the back of a cardboard package isn't going hang in a museum wall and I'd be hard pressed to justify framing it, but it's a very nice, personal touch that adds a lot to the transaction. It's like the occasional waitress or clerk who says 'thank you' with such sincerity that you can't help but feel they genuinely enjoyed dealing with you.
Did Rodriguez HAVE to make sure he sent over Maintenance artwork? No. By the rules he set up, he made it very clear it was going to be a crap shoot. But he pulled out those couple of pages (seemingly) deliberately, and provided an extra sketch which no one but me, him and the postman have seen. That's just cool, in a very classy way.
Man, that is some great stuff! Thank you much, Robbi! I highly suggest folks heading over to pick up on any of the great deals he might have left!
