The webcomic “Least I Could Do” posted this amazingly sexist cartoon today:
(It was too wide to fit onto a regular blog, so I reformatted it a bit.)
Emmy Cicierega suggested that people try repairing the cartoon with some strategic relettering, and posted a version with oddly tweaked art and blank balloons.
Eat, Drink and Be Scary added words to Emmy’s version, which you can read here.
Maxwell Pacheco posted his own version, here.
And here’s my version (using the original art, not Emmy’s version, because the shrunken head in Emmy’s version freaked me out!)
And finally, in case any of y’all want to get in on the act, here’s a blank version, formatted so it’ll fit onto blogs.
Or just leave your ideas in the comments. 
Edited to add: Check out this one, too.
On August 18, 2010 · Comments Off
In a sort of postscript to her School Library Journal review of Hereville, Elizabeth Bird mentioned Will Eisner’s landmark A Contract With God. That really, really pleased me.
I took a class from Eisner at School of Visual Arts, which is a privilege I wish I had appreciated more at the time. Eisner’s work — not so much his Spirit work, as the work he did in the last three decades of his life — is a frequent, conscious inspiration to me while I draw. Especially when it comes to drawing people, my never-met goal as a cartoonist is to make my figures as full of life as Eisner’s.
Eisner did have some weaknesses as a cartoonist, especially when it came to writing; his characterization could be thin, and his dialog was often clunky. At his worse, he used embarrassing stereotypes (don’t lend Life On Another Planet to any Italian friends you have). But his strengths — his page layouts, effortlessly leading the reader’s eye, and his astonishingly fluid, graceful drawing — put him in the top rank of all cartoonists who have ever set brush to paper.
In her review, discussing page layouts in Hereville, Elizabeth singles out a two-page sequence in which Mirka is visualizing a math problem. In that sequence, I was deliberately imitating Eisner’s 1990s work, in which he minimized the use of panel borders, instead letting elements of the panels provide the divisions between panels.
Here’s a page from Eisner’s Invisible People:
And here, for a perhaps unfortunate comparison, is one of the Hereville pages Elizabeth discussed in her review.
Related link: My 2005 obituary for Eisner.
After 86 years of amazing adventure and right-wing preaching, the comic strip “Annie” (originally called “Little Orphan Annie”) ends today. Surprisingly, it’s not ending happily:
“Annie got kidnapped more than any child on the planet,” Maeder says.
And that, dear readers, is her predicament now.
She’s been spirited away to Guatemala by her war-criminal captor. Warbucks is huddling with the FBI and Interpol but there aren’t many clues.
Annie’s captor says they’re stuck with each other. Welcome to your new life, he says.
And there it ends.
You can read the final strip here.
At first, I felt irritated that Tribune Media (the owners of Annie) didn’t continue Annie long enough to let it end happily. But on rethinking, I kind of like it. We can take it on faith that Daddy Warbucks will eventually shake off his funk and rescue Annie, and that Annie and Warbucks together will defeat the kidnapper and go home for a while until the next dictator or mobster or union boss kidnaps Annie. It’s appropriate that the comic strip doesn’t really have an ending, because Annie’s adventures seemed endless.
Of course, I would have preferred that the comic strip end back in 1968, when creator Harold Gray died. Although Gray’s successors on the strip include some excellent cartoonists (Leonard Starr, for goodness sake!), none of them were able to bring Gray’s slightly frightening intensity and vitality to the strip.
(Click on the panel to read the entire strip.)
I like Gray’s artwork a lot. The tiny heads and enormous hands feel expressionistic. And I love how Gray’s artwork almost always seems claustrophobic; ceilings feel uncomfortably close to characters’ heads, even when Gray draws outdoor scenes. Gray’s drawing tells a story very efficiently, but where it really shines is in getting across Gray’s fictional world, a world which despite Annie’s relentless optimism, was frightening and difficult, and in which the new death threat or kidnapping was always just around the corner.
Gray’s claustrophobic artwork was also a good match for his political views, which were spectacularly narrow. Gray’s reaction to the great depression was to preach that anyone could make it if only they embraced hard work and optimism (and socked out the occasional thug); anyone talking about larger economic issues behind structural unemployment would have been dismissed by Gray as a whiner. (I really regret that Gray never showed Daddy Warbucks punching out Keynes.) Gray had an awesome ability to deny reality; but even though a world in which anyone can make it with a little pluck and some help from a redheaded orphan isn’t realistic, it is a fun fantasy to read in a comic strip.
I haven’t yet seen much blogging about the end of Annie (except for this post on Comicscomics). But here’s some interesting past blogging about Little Orphan Annie: Illustration Art has “Harold Gray: An Appreciation,” featuring several very large (if you click on them) reproductions of Gray’s artwork and the blog’s patented “you kids get off my lawn” attitude towards modern comics. Jeet Heer quotes some Art Spiegelman comments about Gray’s work, plus in the comments a reader is quite funny on the subject of what a lousy parent Daddy Warbucks was. And Madinkbeard, reviewing an old reprint collection, makes a number of very interesting comments about Little Orphan Annie.
Barry: Oh wow. (Looks around, sees Jake.) Hey, Jake, look at this layout.
Jake: Oh? (Picks up book, looks at page.) Wow.
This is from “Space,” the fourth volume of Osamu Tezuka’s Phoenix series, originally published in 1969. The layout device, which on this page emphasizes the group coming together as a team but eventually emphasizes each character’s separateness, is continued for many pages of the book.
It’s hard to describe Pheonix, which I’ve so far read the first five volumes of. Each volume is a story that stands entirely on its own, set thousands of years apart from the other stories, some of which take place in prehistory, others in a science-fiction future — but through reincarnation, the same characters appear as different people in multiple volumes. The ambition and scope of some of these stories is jaw-dropping. If you’re going to read just one, I’d recommend Karma, which is the best one I’ve read so far (and, some people say, the best manga ever created).
(A lot of Pheonix would be rated “R” if it were a movie, due to occasional nudity and also some extreme violence at times, so if you’re a kid you should check with your parents before reading it.)
One of the comics I picked up at Stumptown was Lotus Root Children, by Wei Li.
(SPOILERS below!)
Image from Lotus Root Children
Li told me that he was inspired by the documentary “China’s Stolen Children.” As you might expect, the approximately 50 page comic tells a sad story, but Li tells it very well. The main character is a child trafficker. She doesn’t personally steal the children; she takes care of the children between when they are kidnapped and when buyers for the children are found. During this time, she mothers the children, with genuine affection, and also brainwashes them to forget their prior lives. The character was believable and — despite what we learn about her in the course of the comic — likable, although I wanted to know more about her and her background. How did her life reach this point?
Li’s artwork is nice; he uses very lively brushstrokes both for the linework and for the coloring, which I enjoyed. The underlying drawing isn’t always assured — the anatomy seems a bit shaky sometimes – but it’s good, and I’m sure it’ll get better as Li goes on. (His new project, The Old Woman, looks great — you can see preview artwork for it here). The layout approach is also a little inconsistent; early on, Li plays around a little with breaking up a three-tiers-per-page layout, while in the last half of the book he hardly ever strays from it, and I don’t see any story-based reason for the change in approach.
But I’m nit-picking. The art is very well-done and shows potential to get a lot better, and the writing is ambitious and interesting. Li is definitely someone who believes comics can be more than fight scenes, and I’ll be looking for more of Li’s comics at future cons.
I do have one actual complaint, which is that the paper version of Lotus Root Children is in gray tones that are rather muddy. Later on, I checked it out online — and discovered that the art was drawn in color, with rich blues popping the characters out of greenish graywash backgrounds. It looks twice as good with the colors. So while I’d hate to deprive Li of sales, I’d recommend reading Lotus Root Children online instead of buying the comic.
