Thursday, December 23, 2004

The Comics Form, Superheroes Part II

I wasn't planning on writing another post right away on the comics form and superheroes, but then I realized I forgot something. The first part of my theory can be read here. The basic gist is that the reason that superheroes became the dominant subject in the comics world is that it takes full advantage of the comics form, that superheroes are intrinsicly able to make use of the comics form.

Unfortunately, I spent the entire post talking about printing techniques and the historical part of formalism (layers upon layers people!). There is also the idea to consider that, in the infancy of both the modern comics form and of the superhero story, the superhero story uses the sequential form of comics to great ability. The most basic superhero story, beating someone/thing up is simply a series of moments.

You could argue that everything is a series a moments. Not so. The most basic of stories, from point A to point B, involves no backtracks, no pauses to consider things, no flashbacks. Granted, superhero stories use them, and often use them to great effect, but the simplest of superhero stories by definition is a point A to point B deal. As opposed to say a simple detective story, which takes a certain amount of denoument, and explanation at the end.

The Comics Form, The Basics 1

In continuing to talk about the comics form, let's start with the basics, I mean the really basic basics. As you can (hopefully) see here, we have a comics page consisting of a 2x2 grid. No, I don't consider a single page splash to be the simplest form of comics, I find that the splash page has a great deal of complications involved (if the single splash page can be defined as a comic on its own, or merely part of a larger work). The ideas I am discussing here can be be expanded on 3x3 grids, 4x4, or even the 9x9 grids of the formalistic beauty and madness that is Morrison and Quietly's WE3.

Because we (that is to say, I) are English speakers (and readers!), we read the written word left to right, top to bottom. As such, the basic design is create a comics page that mimics this process. The typical comics page is as pictured, we read panel 1 first, panel 2 second, etc. Of course the human eye and mind is a wily thing, and we might let our vision skip around as we read (but that's another show). Keep in mind that this form works for English speakers, most manga reads from right to left, top to bottom, unless it has been flipped by well meaning but confused publishing companies for the American consumption. I would imagine that Israeli comics (printed in Hebrew or Yiddish) would probably do the same, but I have not had the chance to read any Israeli comics. Most comics pages, even those with incredibly complicated design, are created to be read left to right, top to bottom.

We have four panels. Here, the word "panel" refers to a space where a single moment of time is captured by the art, usually depicting an action, and perhaps with some dialogue, caption, or thought bubbles. A panel is usually demarcated with a border (though not necessarily), which here would be the box around the numbers. And then, there is the gutter. The gutter is the space between panels.

The gutter is one of the most important parts of the comics form (as anyone who reads Understanding Comics should know. One of the major limitations in comics is that it is difficult to draw the passage of time. The gutter, the space between panels, is where time passes between those moments depicted in the panel. It is the unspoken in the comics form, the part where the reader needs to read between the lines, such as it were.

The size of the gutter matters, even if it does not exist. Eventually I will get to that. Keep in mind that all these definitions I have thrown out are not set in stone. A panel does not need a border, it does not even need to be rectangular. A comics page does not need to be read left to right, top to bottom. But, hey, this is the basics.

Also keep in mind, that all this is moot, as the most basic comic is a two panel number, as Scott McCloud would remind us. But since I am working (mostly) with the idea of a comic book in mind, I am going to start with a 2x2 grid.

Thoughts are welcome.

The Comics Form and Superheroes

I said that I wanted to talk about the comics form (or formalism, which I believe can be correctly used here). And if you are going to talk about comics, you cannot avoid talking about superheroes. And why not? Superheroes are fun, there have been many interesting stories about them, and there is a wealth of interesting writing about those stories (which can be seen at various blogs as soon as I setup the sidebar). Superheroes are the dominant subject for comics, a state that Warren Ellis once described as akin to walking into a bookstore and seeing nine tenths of the shelves filled with nurse novels.

Why is that? Why is the superhero form the dominant subject of comics? How is it that they became so entrenched that when most people (particularly non-comic readers) think of comics they think of superheroes? I have not read all the books on comics and comics history in the world, but I have read many. And most of them end up taking a socio-historical tack. They talk about the effect of the Great Depression on the American public, and the superhero as the embodiment of Roosevelt's New Deal. Superman as liberal ideal, rooting out corruption, both as reporter and as a flying ideal of humanity. Other books take an economic approach, talking about the fact that the Great Depression decimated many forms of entertainment. Children did not have a great deal of money, and could spend their dime on comics. And superheroes, with their bright colors and great adventures, appealed to children more than many of the other subject matter. There are also explanations as well.

And all of them are to some extent correct. Having one be correct does not necessarily make another less correct, and I tend to agree with many of these views. But one view that I have not seen before is a formalistic view. I would propose that the superhero form was uniquely suited to use comic form, at least the comic form of the 1930's.

I want to take a side note to clarify certain things. I tend to use the defintion of comics per Scott McCloud as "sequential art" (but not always!). I am aware that comics existed before the 1930's, even in the current forms as "pamphlets." And that comics in general have existed basically since before human writing (once again, depending on how lenient you want to go with your definition of "comics"). I know that comic books don't exist solely as a medium for superheroes. I know all these things, and I acknowledge them. But in terms of popular comics and comics as most readers are familiar, Action 1 seems a good place to start, but certainly not to finish. I would eventually like to go back to certain things, especially McKay, Katzenjammer Kids, Yellow Kid, etc.

Once again, I propose that one of the major reasons that superheroes succeeded, is because the subject matter works so well within the comics form of the 1930's. The printing techniques, color separation, and paper quality of the 1930's tended to be much poorer than they were today. One could not get the clear and crisp printing and art that one gets nowadays (generally that is).

Because of the limitations of comic printing, one needed art that could compensate. A pulp story where every character is a man wearing a black trenchcoat can lead to art that is not only muddled, but characters that all look alike. To counteract this, there was a need for characters that had a distinctive look. Superhero (and supervillain) costumes is the solution to this problem. It did not matter that Superman's face might have looked like five or six other male characters in his book, but goddamn he was wearing a blue and red suit with a giant S on the front (yellow or black usually). The early Joker is one of the most disturbing images in comicsdom for me, and probably one of my favorite depictions of my favorite villain (save perhaps Brian Bolland's), in my opinion much better than Jim Lee's stretched out monster from Hush. Put something as striking as the Joker on the cover of a comic, and not only do you have something that grabs the eye, but something that is recognizable, even if the form changes in the details. Spitcurl or no, Superman is Superman, even if the S on the chest changes slightly.

Superhero art was uniquely suited to deal with the limitations of early comics printing. The use of both bright colors and iconic costumes allowed them to combat the fact that early printing (for mass market consumption) would often destroy the more delicate areas of art. No cross-hatching here!

Of course, when printing techniques became more developed, there was no such limitations. But by this point, superheroes had become entrenched as an integral part of the comics medium.

Of course, that is my theory, and I don't hold it to the exclusion of some of those other theories I mentioned. But if anyone wants to pick my theory apart, please go ahead!

Saturday, December 18, 2004

Tracers!

One last thing, whoever is the new inker on Ultimate Spider-Man is mangling the art. I have never been an art guy, always a word guy. And let's just say I have never had a full appreciation of inkers, but since this new guy came on board, I have a new found appreciation. The inks are entirely too heavy for the art, leaving it all feel leaden.

Visual Language

I've been thinking a lot about visual language, specifically the visual language of comic books. Now, the modern bible on this is Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics. Add to that Eisner's Comics and Sequential Arts and Graphic Storytelling. I would comment on the latter two, but as I have not read them yet (oh but I will), I can only talk about Understanding Comics. Now, I like Understanding Comics, I like it a lot, but I always felt it was lacking a bit. It talks about a bunch of the basic theory, but not the upper theory and mechanics. Perhaps that is why Emaki, which I most likely got from the most excellent blog Mae Mai. Emaki makes a promise that there will be more discussion, and as soon as I order and get the book, we will find out.

Well, as I was saying, I have been thinking a lot about visual language. I hope that over the next while, I can start to analyze visual language and how different people read it. Because I do not think that being able to read a comic book is as natural as many people (and by people I mean comic book readers) think it is. Among the various bars of entry to comic books (among them cost, perception, and a dearth of subject matter) is that people simply don't know how to read comic books. Not that people are stupid, or that they cannot figure it out, but that as comics become more and more detailed, the nuances of the comics form becomes lost on many people.

A lot of this may not make sense until I get to it though. In other news, I read something like ten million books thanks to the magic of RSS, and I decided I need to winnow down the number.