Uniquely Comics, part three: Sudden Transformation

The comics medium is surreal by nature. Cartoon images look like the pictures we see in our memories and dreams. Still images tell the story only by demanding great assistance from our imaginations. We create the movement and sound.

And still pictures have a special power to instill themselves in our brains. They have unique potency, as frozen moments in time.

In the surreal world of comics, characters can transform from one panel to the next. Even in a realistic story with no fantastical happenings, one thing can become quite another to indicate changes in mood or perception. Similar phenomena occur in our dreams and memories.

A brilliant use of this sort of transformation took place in “Hedy Lamar” (Written by Jim Ottaviani, drawn by Carla Speed McNeil.) (Spoiler warning: I recommend that you read the story from Dignifying Science before viewing the excerpt below.)

Throughout the story, Miss Lamar is drawn relatively ordinary-looking, to de-emphasize her physical beauty and focus more on her thoughts and feelings, particularly her scientific insights. In the last panel, she “transforms” to match the classic Hollywood photos, and the perception of the gawking masses.

My next example involves a confrontation between man and dog. It is taken from "The Abyss Gazes Also", chapter VI of that timeless wonder of a graphic novel, Watchmen. (Written by Alan Moore, drawn by Dave Gibbons, colored by John Higgins). A well-worn copy of the book has accompanied me on my many cross-country moves. I have read it in its entirety three times, and have gone back to re-read selective passages countless times. Even so, I did not take specific note of the 'uniquely comics' aspect of the sequence below, until my big brother Carl pointed it out. Then again, out of 350 pages that are dense with words, pictures, emotional power, and potent philosophical ideas, it may be no surprise that I didn't pick up on this particular bit of storytelling brilliance, amidst all the others. (Again, spoiler warnings apply; I advise reading the book first.)

Vigilante anti-hero Rorschach tracks down a kidnapped girl, only to discover that his enemy has killed her and fed her to his dogs. In the first panel (out of those displayed above), the dogs seem like the epitome of evil, as they chomp on human bones (and display red eyes). In the seventh, the dogs appear like innocent pets. Unfortunately for them, Rorschach has already made his verdict, and it is death. The dogs' sudden transformation from monsters to victims would be hard to pull off in any medium but comics. I commend the creators.

Heddy Lamar page is copyrighted to Carla Speed McNeil. Watchmen pages are copyrighted to DC comics (much to the chagrin of the writer). Low resolution reproductions are used here for archival and educational purposes only.

Uniquely Comics, part two: The Page as a Whole

An unique aspect of the comics medium is its ability to portray multiple moments in time simultaneously. (Yes, Scott McCloud pointed this out before I did.) Each panel portrays an individual, frozen moment. And when the viewer reads from one panel to the next, his imagination fills in the spaces to create the story. However, before the reader focuses in on the individual panels, he first sees the page as a whole—an entire composition, in which the past, present, and future exist concurrently. (As such, the comics page shows some alignment with Albert Einstein's interpretation of time—and the way in which Dr. Manhattan experiences reality.)

I am a fan of using the entire page as a carefully-conceived, unified composition. One can do this within the standard panel grid—or go “off the grid” and create one's own unique structure and flow.

Will Eisner is a grand maestro of full-page compositions; here is one of countless examples (this one from the Femme Fatales collection from DC):

Some mind-bending page compositions occur in Saga of the Swamp Thing. Below is one from issue #34 “Rite of Spring”--sometimes referred to as "the vegetable sex story." Written by Alan Moore, drawn by Steve Bissette and John Totleben, colored by Tatjana Wood, reprinted in Saga of the Swamp Thing Book Two: Love and Death:

Gary Panter's packed full-page compositions in Jimbo's Adventures in Paradise were an influence upon me...

...when I set out to draw A Humble Joy. And I consider this guinea pig epic to have been a sort of breakthrough success for me; the art show that accompanied its release may have been my fifteen minutes of fame!

The Spirit page is copyrighted to Eisner studios; the Jimbo page is copyrighted to Gary Panter; and the Swamp-Thing pages are copyrighted to DC comics. Low-resolution reproductions are used here for archival and educational purposes only.

Back at The Homestead, Surrounded by Stories

Ross and Cabin Bob at dusk

Recently, I revisited The Homestead, for the first time since the reunion in 2007. It will always feel strange to use a computer at the Homie, but even so, in the quiet of evening, I took out my laptop and typed some reflections....

There are so many stories. In the walls, in the kitchen, by the fire circle, on the earth beneath my feet. Never before or since have I been so intimately connected to a piece of land as I was to here. Never before had I given such thought, care, sweat, and work to the development of a landscape. Now, a barrier of years has formed between me and this grand Homestead. She now wears gloves when she touches me. Even so, The Homestead is still a great friend, a love, an old home to return to.

I notice large stories and small ones. I see parts of buildings constructed by my own hands, and quotations on the walls written with my own felt-tip marker.

I see the tall sycamores and low brambles around the creek that runs before the main entrance, and recall a story. It was in the May Term of 2003, and a throng of summer Homesteaders were present. A torrential rain storm had just happened. The winds rocked the forests around us, and sent limbs crashing from trees. Entire trees fell over, in parts of town not far from us. But the walls of our cabins held strong. We waited out the storm in Cabin Bob. I watched the rain gush down the windows, and listened to the rapid drumbeat of the overflowing water tank, which caught the rain from Cabin Bob's roof.

After the storm, the sky took on that clear and empty grey look. And the warmth of the sun returned. By the fire circle, in the open spaces, my comrade Brad nearly stumbled upon a ten-limbed creature. A crayfish. Apparently the rain had prompted him to take a walk. Brad and I watched the decapod saunter; Meghan joined us as well. I thought that the crayfish would be better off in the stream. We carried him in a bucket, to the water's edge, by the tall sycamores and among the low brambles. He crawled into the water, and ducked under the surface. For a few minutes, he sat silent just beneath a thin film of water, with antennae protruding. Then he sunk deeper and disappeared. “He seemed happy about that,” Brad said.

All around me, I see all manner of things made by Homesteaders. So many success stories. The strawbale Cabin Bob, for which I so fondly recall building the mudroom. The earthship Cabin Pheonix, which was a mental project during my time at The Homestead. Homesteaders after me finally and thankfully finalized plans and brought the Pheonix to physical fruition. And I came back for the day we broke ground, and pounded part of the first tire.

Not every project undertaken by Homies has succeeded. (However, I consider them all to be educational successes, because we always learned something.) Many of the fruit trees we planted no longer stand. There is, however, a humble evergreen which DOES still stand. In front of the outhouse there is a spruce, which was our Homestead Christmas tree in 2003—a gift from the parents of Homie Marko. The tree stood proudly in Cabin Bob for the fall semester, but needed to root in the earth before all Homies went home for break. Then came the end of fall semester. I had had my long, long night of sleep. .... after multiple late nights of cramming for final tests, writing final papers, and welding a final sculpture, I finally arrived at the “sleep of the just.” The very next day, I awoke ready and raring for my favorite form of exercise—physical projects at the Homestead. Colin was up with me (not surprisingly) and so was Marko (surprisingly.) We put our shovels together and dug a nice wide hole and planted the tree. And watered it well. We went on to turn a compost pile. Not a bad set of accomplishments, for before ten in the morning! Then I joined in some quiet social time in the cabins, and set to packing for the trip home.

With my every glance about Cabin Bob, I see more stories. A window I helped to install. Bookshelves that have the mark of my hammer. The ceiling light above me. Electricity at The Homestead comes from a solar panel, which charges a set of batteries. And all lights are home-installed. I recall when my comrades Brad and Cassi had just wired in and rigged that light. Then held their breaths and flipped the switch. There was light, and a room full of Homesteaders cheered.

As I type these words, I take note of the table beneath my laptop—I believe it was built by Homesteaders in the 1980s. It is a lasting contribution. Some creations live longer than others. But even after a table's legs rot or a light no longer functions, the stories will remain. As long as there are campfires, with garrulous Homesteaders crowded about. I eagerly anticipate the 2012 reunion, for The Homestead's 35th anniversary. The stories shall abound!

Ross among present-day Homesteaders

Uniquely Comics, part one: Closure

The comic below ("Gargoyle in Flight") arose from an assignment at The Center for Cartoon Studies, a "drawing challenge": to depict a character flying from the city to the country, then going through a window. I did some ambitious drawing for this challenge, using a three-point perspective in the opening splash panel, then one-point perspective in the following two. (And the artists in my audience know that perspective images can be tedious to set up!) And then I used ink washes to cast atmospheric shades of grey over the scenes.

On page 2, I stumbled upon a technique that is unique to the comics medium. In panel one, the gargoyle's wings are up, and his surroundings include skyscrapers and car-filled streets. In panel two, his wings are down, the tall buildings are in the distance, and his setting has become more rural. Our imagination fills in for the great many wing-beats in between! A special use of "closure" (to use Scott McCloud's term.) If ever I teach a course on the comics medium, I'll include these pages.

Beasts from the sketchbook

I strive to draw every day. In between larger comics projects, I simply open my hardbound sketchbook, get out my pencils and nib pens and brushes, and draw what I imagine--often aided by picture-laden books and google image search. A sampling of beasts from my most recent sketchbook:

Cyborg Owl

A cybernetic skeletal owl. Since both owls and cyborgs are known for their potent eyesight, imagine what a cyborg owl could do!

And happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day, World! I'll need to remember to perform some community service in honor of Dr. King once I get home. Right now, I'm getting ready for a big move.

Protest in the Zeitgeist

In 2011, protest was in the zeitgeist. (Even a publication as mainstream as TIME took notice, in making the protester the person of the year.) Thus far, the trend does not seem to have slowed with the new year. I hope that it intensifies. I am thankful for the technological tools that help to make it all possible.

Effective protests happened in many parts of the world, including some good ones in my country, the USA. Being an environmentalist, I was particularly proud of the protest on Capitol Hill against the Keystone X-L pipeline (led by Bill McKibben.) And then, the Obama administration postponed their decision on the project. Another example (and perhaps under-reported one) of how protest CAN lead to changes in national policy.

And I am proud of all the brave folks at Occupy Wall Street—especially for their day of occupying bridges, to demand that governments create jobs by investing in the aging infrastructure. The real way out of our jobs crisis is to create useful government jobs, which put people back to work while improving everyone's quality of life. A win-win approach, successfully applied during the great depression, in form of the New Deal. Today, we still reap the benefits from the good work done by the WPA and CCC. And those jobs were not created by cutting taxes or curbing spending! In fact, they were the direct result of spending, and funded by taxes.

Evidently, the zeitgeist visited me, as well as my friends in Colorado. We had our own uprising against a local dictator. Although we ultimately lost, we made a mighty display of courage and moral conviction. Captain America would be proud.

Back in March 2011, I appeared at a public protest for the first time in years—a Wisconsin solidarity rally in downtown Seattle, in front of the fire station (organized by MoveOn). In opposition to Governor Scott Walker's “union-busting” bill, and in support of public workers. I should resolve to attend more protests in the future. Our leaders must be held accountable for their decisions. And while emails, letters, phone calls, and online petitions are useful and essential, they cannot match the power of live human beings at your doorstep, with a demand for change.

*******

I was introduced to political protest in my college Homestead days. I attended Denison University (Granville, Ohio) during turbulent political times. September 11th, 2001 occurred during my sophomore year. Everyone remembers where they were on that day, and I am no exception. I stopped to check my mail at Slayter Hall, and my friend Mike asked, “Did you hear what happened?” I said, “about Cassi?” (our mutual friend). “No, about the World Trade Center,” he said. I went down the stairs to the lower floor of Slayter, where the cafe with the televisions was located. What appeared to be the entire body of students and faculty at Denison were crowded around the televisions. I managed to find some standing room. And saw the towers fall.

9-11 was beyond horrific, but worse nightmares were to follow. George W. Bush and his cronies planned to use 9-11 as an excuse to drop bombs on innocent people in Iraq and secure some rich oil fields. Unless the American people could unite to stop them! In the Denison community, several of my Homestead friends emerged as leaders of the anti-war movement. My comrades Dave and Marko took the lead in moving an anti-war petition all over campus, gathering many hundreds of signatures from students, faculty, and staff, and mailing copies to every key member of the Bush Administration. Multiple Homesteaders were involved in staging an anti-war walkout on a Friday at noon, wherein students and faculty took turns making speeches—both planned and impromptu, and petitions circulated for ending the war and impeaching the president.

Every Thursday morning, I joined my Homestead friends for the protest on Main Street, Granville. We piled five-to-ten deep in the bed of our old beat up gray dodge pickup—the DURP truck—and drove through the icy wind of an Ohio winter, to Main Street, Granville. (Granville resembles a small new england town.) We joined other DU students, professors, and Granville townsfolk, armed, like us, in winter jackets and hats and gloves. We brandished signs with slogans like “Peace is patriotic” and “Support U.N. Weapons Inspections”. We stood on the sidewalk for an hour, and made ourselves as visible as possible to vehicles and pedestrians. Some pedestrians stopped to converse with us, and many simply smiled and waved in support. Once the war started, competition arrived on Main Street, with some war-supporters standing beside us (some of them veterans in uniform.) Their signs read “Support our troops.” Ours read “Support our troops: bring them home safely now.” I am glad that both sides could exercise their first amendment rights.

And we took the protest beyond Granville. We marched alongside thousands of other demonstrators, first in Washington D.C., then in New York City (Columbus as well, and D.C. again, although I missed those two.) In October 2002, a dozen or so Homesteaders and friends piled into a few cars and a rental van to go to the first big anti-war march in DC. We were a motley band of college boys and girls, diverse in size, skin-color, and hair-length. We brought sleeping bags, and white signs with red letters, the same signs which we would later use in Granville. (I liked “US oil consumption is a weapon of mass destruction.”) Mud spattered both our signs and ourselves. There is a lot of mud at the Homie, which tends to find its way onto one's person and belongings. Ol' Homesteader Matty made a unique sign: “Re-elect Carter.” After a long evening and night of driving and an arrival to D.C. in the wee hours, we slept the remainder of the night in a university auditorium (a friend let us in). The next morning, we answered multiple inquiries from fellow demonstrators and pedestrians as to who we were and where we came from that is so muddy. Then we joined the demonstration. We marched, in a wave of bodies and signs and artwork (and some costumed traveller's dressed like Bush and Cheney monsters.) Drums beat, and chants arose of “1-2-3-4 We don't want another war; 5-6-7-8 stop the racism stop the hate!” It was an honor to have been a tiny piece of this historic day, and the subsequent ones.

Despite our best efforts, the war still happened. And exceeded our worst nightmares in its level of violence. Nonetheless, the efforts led by my Homestead comrades were noble, and the experience was unforgettable. And it is another demonstration of the power of community. I would not have had the motivation to be so involved in the movement had I been operating alone. It is an honor to have marched next to friends.