MoCCA Sketches

Francoise Mouly and Nadja Spiegelman urge you to submit to the second volume of their political anthology, Resist!

 I managed to do some sketches at this year's MoCCA Fest and include them in a blogpost I wrote for the School of Visual Arts' Continuing Education blog.

Speaking of, my summer CE courses begin in June and are enrolling right now: Inking Comics is on Tuesdays this summer, Figure Drawing for Cartoonists is on Wednesdays, and Cartooning Basics, Thursdays. I'll be at the info session May 18th. Come join the fun!

The panel, Teaching Comics Internationally with Ben Katchor, Jessica Abel,  Merav Soloman, and Bill Kartalopolous.

MoCCA Guest of Honor, Blutch, also spoke at the New York Comics and Picture Story Symposium.

Unsung Characters of Comicdom

A comic I made in the 1980s, Steel Pulse Pro-Wrestling Adventures, is featured in this week's column Unsung Characters of Comicdom which runs on the website, Comic Attack.net.

Writer Josh Jones gives a rollicking synopsis. Sometimes I forget how fun it was to write that thing. I was a beginner and my artwork was full of crazy weird mistakes. Even so, Jones says the artwork is "refreshingly expressive" and adds, "Modern mainstream publishers just don’t produce comics this awesome." Thanks, Josh!

Ink Improvisation

"Hector Goes to Medical School," 2001.

I've been teaching some courses on comic book inking and having the students practice what I'm calling "ink immersion"-- not in the sense of baptism, which might be fun, but in the sense of working directly with ink, sans penciling. I figure this is a good occasion to continue this thread I started awhile back about individual comic panels regarded as illustrations.


"Secret Rites of Hector," 1993. I'm pretty sure this is the first strip I improvised. I generated a stack of of these figures to get something wiggy enough. The text is adapted from a masonic handbook my friend found in a dumpster.

I find the traditional way of drawing comics-- inking on top of pencil plans-- to be frustrating. Usually, when I erase my pencils, the ink lines are way more anemic than I imagined. By the time I adjust the weights, they lose much of their character. One solution, tracing onto clean paper on a light table, presents its own problems. Often I lose track of subtleties in the penciling that weren't visible through the paper.


This panel from True Fiction #1, 2000, is made from two versions collaged together.

So sometimes I try this method of looking at my thumbnail designs just as I would look at a sketch subject, and improvising the illustrations directly in ink. If I'm warmed up and having a good day, I find it permits a degree of spontaneity and invention that the pencil-tracing approach tends to squelch.


from "The Stutterer's Alfalfabet," 2001. Can you spot my hidden signature?

You might think this would speed up my process, and sometimes it can. But more often, as I'm sure it is with most jazz musicians, I end up doing several "takes" before I get something I can use.


from "The Twilight of the Bums," circa 1999. These character designs eluded me until I resolved to put away my pencils and doodle them into being.

Nowadays, depending on the project, I might do tight penciling, light penciling, or no penciling. A small percent of my comics are ink improv. Many examples are scattered on this blog and my website. Can you tell which ones they are?

More Tragic Strips

Here are a couple of single panel Tragic Strips that ran in the Rail last Spring and Summer. They're kind of the same joke.
I redrew the subway one completely from the version that saw print. I like this one better, though I still might add wash to it.

The Umpteen Umbilici of Ulro

Last week I finally made it up to the Morgan Library Museum to see their amazing collection of William Blake prints. It made me wanna post these old unpublished jam pages where I was goofing on a similarity I think I perceive between the prophecies of Blake and the cosmic comics of Jack Kirby.

It's from this comic jam my friends and I have been passing around for years and years. The comic is called Giant Size Man Thing, the story is called "Even an Android Can Cry," and it's about a character named Rod Packer, Public Dick.

Here are pages 16 thru 18. Click to enlarge, of course.



While I'm at it, here are a couple of my other pages. Page 8 makes fun of my favorite superhero dialog cliche. If anyone's to find funny, my timing will have to be perfect.

Page 25 is really just marking time. I like it because I was under the spell of Alex Toth when I composed the panels. I hope to do more like that sometime.

Maybe I'll publish the whole thing someday, to the relief of those who've contributed, if no one else.

Izzy Challenge #5

I contributed to a panel in J.B. Winter's newest Izzy Challenge. My MoCCA tablemate, Isaac
Cates and I were amused to see our contributions side by side, through an accident of alphabetization.

Read Isaac's post about it, then read Winter's.

Winter does cool jam comics. You should check this one out.

The Power of the Individual Panel

Cubofuturist interpretation of Durer's "Ascent of Venus" from Damn Weird #23, 2006.
Border & lettering is by Maximum Traffic.

Before we had the terms "Sequential Art" and "Graphic Storytelling," the pretentious name for comics was the advertising term, "Continuity Illustration." It's a horrible phrase, really, because it completely ignores the role of writing in comics. It diminishes the drawing too, since illustration is always subordinate to whatever it's supposed to illustrate. That said, I think this term needs to be brought back to our attention. "Sequential Art" emphasizes the sequence of images and leads us to think about the cinematic quality of comics. "Graphic Storytelling" stresses the rhythm and timing involved in the successful telling of a story. "Continuity Illustration" reminds us that a comic is also a linked series of individual pictures.


A germ carnival from "God Bless You," 1995

Since the underground comics faded in the late 70s, there's been a trend in the comics intelligentsia, such as it is, to view comic panels as visual syntagms or ciphers. It doesn't matter how they look. It only matters how they function. This view is supported by the fact that the good drawing found in commercial comics too often serves hackneyed stories. And it 's considered good drawing mostly because it's correct, not because it's creative, much less visionary. Although brilliant visual art has always thrived among indie comics, I see it consistently marginalized in the critical conversation. Maybe that's because writers find it easier to write about writing.


Universal language wars from "Volapuk," 1990

Personally, I love it when a carefully crafted comic panel makes me want to stop and study its effects. As a seasoned comic reader, I can hold the pacing in my head and read at any tempo I please. In my own work, I've sometimes spent up to two weeks working on a single panel-- designing it, revising it, packing it with ideas. You may think I'm wasting time but I believe I'm saving paper.


Pro Wrestlers on a scaffold from "Steel Pulse" #4, 1989.

So I'm launching this here thread where I'll occasionally post comic panels I'm particularly proud of to see if they can stand alone.