Last time in “Seen” in Context I pondered the love and the money behind what we currently think of as webcomics. I’ve argued before and elsewhere the merits or lack thereof of even calling them webcomics because of the negative associations that word has, so I won’t go into that too much here. Though you might have noticed we occasionally use an alternative spelling (webcomix) to imply I suppose a more independently minded and mature audience. I accept that, even if it still draws more associations with The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers than it might with Asterios Polyp.
Whatever aspect of webcomix I talk about here the subject of money is never far from the surface in the same the non-monetary value of the art is also always in question. How good is it? What does it cost? These are fairly primary but primitive questions we have drawn everything down to in our culture, so there’s no escaping them. You might say the cost one is not actually a question you ask much when it comes to webcomix but I say if you’re getting for free you’re not really unaware of that fact. I’m conscious of that lack-of-cost every time I download something or consume something for free on the net. In particular regard to comix whether on the web or not one of my main interests is the nature of production that means the comic takes a ridiculous time to construct over the time it takes to read. Many of you will have pondered this thought yourselves.
As a side issue, but pertinent to the question above: How is the investment in time necessary to create a comic any different to the investment in time for any other art form? I mean, just because it’s easy to type doesn’t mean it’s suddenly become easy to write. I’d suggest that most serious novels take anything from three to five years to write – and what? Two weeks to read? Even paintings, even the simplest abstract paintings, take much longer to produce than they do to consume. Are then comic creators not being a little bit weak about the whole thing? No, probably not, but it leads me to go one step further and ask: Is this not an easy disguise to throw on for lack of serious content?
I’m of the opinion that in comics in particular the bullseye of serious art (not necessarily big A art either) is getting ever smaller while the dartboard of Super-Sillyness is getting bigger by comparison. If I wanted to mangle the metaphor further I’d say that the Universe the dartboard exists in is shrinking too, but that would be silly. Basically in a shrinking marketplace the chance to find anything really worthwhile in this medium is getting slimmer. A previous review here covers David Mazzucchelli’s Asterios Polyp, a clever work rightly hailed and a welcome addition to the canon. To me though there’s still something about it that is wrong. Nothing about the the piece itself, but there is something troubling about its position. It says to me that everything else is broken. Something like finding a strawberry in a pile of shit. No matter how good that strawberry looks … y’know it’s still in a pile of shit.
This is a problem for me. But don’t get me wrong. I fully realise that there are a plethora of equally terrible movies among the good, an equal amount of really bad books in relation to the good. The problem, if there is one at all and I’m not just imagining things, has something to do with format … and delivery … and placement … and cost … and investment. Maybe all the things we’ve been discussing here. Is it just finally the century long attitude towards comics as being a childish medium that defeats us. How have we not managed to turn that around? Are you denying that everyone laughs when you call it a graphic novel? It’s not the same look of derision you’d get if you were a conceptual artist … it’s worse … and seriously that’s when you know there’s something wrong!
And I find myself sniggering just a little. And I’m a lifelong comic book fan. And then I realise that’s not the same thing as being interested in the subject we’re talking about here. So, in the end, is it also not a fact that we cannot even define the terms by which we are to be judged. I’m a writer. I’m a film-maker. I’m a painter. An artist. A designer.
As well as that other thing y’know.
“Like I make, er, comics! Comix! No, not Batman. Anyway, less about me, what do you do?”
The many facets have left the whole, blurred to the point of distraction.
Success is in demand, a goal anyone ( regardless of merit) can now achieve, and no longer based on actual accomplishment, as ‘real’ value isn’t as rewarding or immediate as perceived value.
Money represents immediacy and unless the turnover ratio is prompt most get little bragging rights for such endeavors…what good is personal satisfaction if one cant make others jealous of this?
Here in the bars of Philadelphia we play a fun game called “gun to your head and a fire in the house.” (yes, it’s a town of some tragic harshness)
The point of the game is discovering what you prize most and what needs to survive a catastrophe. Two very different questions. Very difficult to choose the magna Carta over the Beatle’s “White Album”. (for newcomers to this game it always begins with “Beatle’s or Stones?”)
So, it seems the question has come up; “which would you save from a burning building with five seconds to choose and a gun to your head; BATMAN or ASTERIOS POLYP?”
I think most of you know what I’d say, but I’ll remind you of this: Grant Morrison and Frank Miller have both proven that there’s nothing in BATMAN than can’t be redeemed by fire.
-R