PX10: Funny (Not Funny)

Funny (Not Funny) edited by Ryan Standfest (218x218mm)

This is the catalogue for an exhibition, apparently? The exhibition is about “Black Humor”, and the curator capitalises it like that most of the essay, without mentioning actual Black humour, or using the expression “edge lord” a single time.

But I think that’s what he’s going for, really.

The reason I’m mentioning this book in this blog series is that it features a couple of Raw artists. Here’s one of Mark Newgarden’s things about how… er… comedians/clowns are sad?

Most of the pieces here aren’t funny, but here’s Michael Kupperman. I understand why’d you want to have Kupperman in any book about humour, but is this… “Black Humor”?

Is Sue Coe really doing humour?

Ben Katchor is wonderful, but I’m not sure what he has to do with anything?

In short, it’s a very confusing catalogue, and it sounds like it was a confused exhibition.

We finish with a survey about “Black Humor”. I think the responses from most of them can be summed up with “Whatcha talkin bout Willis”.

This blog post is part of the Punk Comix series.

PX00: Cola Madnes

Cola Madnes by Gary Panter (135x188mm)

I’m always suspicious when I see stuff like this, but Overheat Communications really does seem to exist.

Young Jimbo!

Anyway, this is a very handsome little book, published by Funny Garbage Press. (No, me neither.) The reproduction is excellent, and the format is sympathetic to the work.

On the other hand, I wouldn’t really have minded this being a bit bigger. Or I should get new glasses.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect here, but whatever it was, it wasn’t this. I mean, I bought this when it was published, but I remembered zilch…

It’s a kinda straightforward sit-com-ish thing!

And the madness comes from drinking cola for breakfast.

OK, things get more chaotic as the book progresses, and Panter adds half a dozen characters, but it has a really clear narrative. I totally expected it to disintegrate, but it’s a lot of fun. It’s not really… er… Panter’s most heartfelt work, though.

It’s amazing how productive he was from the late 70s to around 84 — I think most of his collected work is from those years.

It’s understandable — those were awesome years.

I like that the book varies the size of the artwork in this way, but it doesn’t always quite work perfectly…

John Carlin writes adds an essay — he explains that Panter created this over a few months in 83, because he thought that a Japanese publisher wanted to print a new Jimbo book there. (But I guess they just wanted to reprint the first Jimbo book?)

The essay recaps the plot (!) of the story over a few too many pages — which is a bizarre decision, since we’d just read the book, and the plot is perfectly clear and doesn’t need to be recapped. The rest of the essay is slightly more interesting.

Panter is interviewed in The Comics Journal #100, page 220:

LUCIANO: Do the Japanese understand
uork better than Americans?
PANTER: Oh no. I think my work’s really
interested in Japan. I’m interested in a lot
of different cultures. I think Japan is an
amazing culture. Thé fact that I’m in-
terested makes them have a look at me, to
see why I’m interested. The Japanese are
really interested in the rest of the world. I
think they may be somewhat disappointed
that the rest of the world is so self-absorbed
and not as interested in the world as they
are. They really explore all the corners of
the world inside these gorgeous magazines
that they read on the trains. Amazing. It
was fun to be there, and I’d very much like
to go back. I wrote another book for Japan
called Cola, Madness,’ I started that one in
1975. It’s got Jimbo as a teen-ager in it.
LUCIANO: cola, Madness??
PANTER; Uh, huh, cola, It’s
30S drawings long, and it should be pub-
lished wifh two drawings to a page, so it
should be about 150 long. That’s pretty
long for me. It’s also more humorous and
more commercial-looking. Maybe not
“commercial-looking,” but the sensibility’s
more like K-Mart. Somewhere between
Beardsley and K-Mart.
LUCIANO: II-aughs/ That’s pretty funny, 1
have to admit.
PANTER: It’s really a design for a puppet
play. I haven’t really pushed that, but I
hope I can do a puppet play production of
it sometime.

The book was reviewed positively:

This delightfully inane story offers a selection of Panter’s themes: humanity’s troubled relationship with nature and technology; the tension between restraint and the uncontrollable urge; family relationships; and Jimbo’s endearing, comical self-doubt.

This blog post is part of the Punk Comix series.

PX91: Snake Eyes #1-3

Snake Eyes #1-3 edited by Glenn Head and Kaz (213x273mm)

Three issues of Bad News were published in the 80s, as a sort of School for the Visual Arts anthology (but only sorta kinda).

Mark Newgarden is interviewed in The Comics Journal #161, page 84:

KELLY: It seems like Bad News somehow evolved into
Snake Eyes.
NEWGARDEN: Yeah. I think at a certain point Glenn Head
was lobbying for another Bad News and I said, “I don’t
want to have anything to do with it. Why don’t you be
editor?” And ultimately it was renamed Snake Eyes and he
and Kaz took over as editors, They’ve done a great job.

So it feels natural to include Snake Eyes in this blog series, even if I hadn’t originally planned on doing so.

I haven’t re-read these books since they were published, and I don’t remember anything about the contents. But I seem to remember them being… kinda good? But… not really Earth-shattering either. And I seem to remember them not getting much attention at the time?

Let’s get reading.

Looking at the list of contributors, it’s a bunch of the people you’d expect, but it’s also many people from the 90s indie scene (many of whom would do series with Fantagraphics later).

The indicia presents itself as being from the East New York Posse… er… Staten Island?

All three of the books start with a one-page introduction that explains to you, the stupid reader, what a great book you’re reading.

Glenn Head and Kaz are the editors, so I was wondering how much stuff we’d be seeing from them… and… there’s not that much in the first book, at least?

R. Sikoryak does one of these per issue, and the first one, Action Camus, is pure genius. It’s funny, and he does the style so well.

Mark Newgarden does a bunch of these in every issue — I think he’s the one with the most pages? Or perhaps it just seems that way, because they’re all like this. I guess it’s supposed to be funny because it’s anti-funny? Draw out the tedium so much that you have to laugh? Or is it just Newgarden’s hatred for big-nosed cartoons that makes him do these things? I mean, we all hate those, don’t we?

The first of Glenn Head’s pieces is all about the mean streets of New York. Well, the mean subway, where he… er… almost comes into contact with some unpleasant people… So much drama.

Oh! Jayr Pulga! He’s in all three of the issues, too, and does his deeply unnerving (and gorgeous) strips.

Chris Ware!

Head illustrates a short story by Charles Bukowski, and I had to jam my fingers into my eyeballs to stop them from rolling so much. It’s hard to imagine anything that’d be more of a cliché for Head to do.

Yay! Finally! Julie Doucet! Amazing. The reproduction is kinda bad, though — the attention to detail on many of these pages are lacking. (And it’s not the best paper stock, either.)

Is Newgarden’s point that clowns are sad? Is that it?

Doug Allen does a strip about… his first… ten… cars….

At this point, I was getting pretty fed up with reading Snake Eyes, and I wasn’t even through the first issue. It’s not that there aren’t good things in here — Doucet, Ware, Pulga, Sikoryak: that sounds like an amazing lineup, right? But in between, there’s just these amazingly tedious things, seemingly done without any ambition beyond being vaguely amusing or tediously outrageous…

It’s not that this thing by Mark Leyner isn’t amusing, but it’s … what does this have to do with anything? I don’t think I’ve seen a less coherent anthology.

There’s too many things like Jonathon Rosen’s strip that feel totally hermetic — they feel like private projects; not like they’re meant for anybody else to get involved with.

And after a few of those strips, it gets harder to invest any effort in getting into things that are pretty funny, like this Mack White thing. Losing all confidence in the editors makes each new piece a chore to read: Is this gonna be a waste of time too, or is it something worth reading?

This Charles Burns/Gary Panter/Tom De Haven thing (“Pixie Meat”) is kinda spiffy, though.

Is this a precursor to the Facetasm book?

Are they going for a dada via New Jersey kinda vibe? At least Beyer’s artwork’s great, as usual, and the paper in the second issue is better (less bleed-though).

*sigh* (Roy Tompkins.)

Speaking of Beyer, he does some of his oddest work ever in these book — page after page of these weirdly laid-out strips. I love the normal strips, too, but it’s great seeing Beyer play around with the pages this much.

I feel I’ve seen David Sandlin fold-outs a few times before… does he have it in his contract that he has to fold out?

The second R. Sikoryak thing’s also good, but not as good as the Camus thing. The third one, Blondie as Adam and Eve, is pretty tedious, so perhaps it’s a good thing there were only three issues of Snake Eyes if Sikoryak felt compelled to follow the same format for every issue.

The second issue ends with almost thirty pages by Kaz, and it’s the most oblique work of his that I’ve read. “Read.” I zoned out after a few pages, because I just didn’t give a shit by this point. (My exasperation with Snake Eyes may seem out of place, because I’m doing snaps of the things that are kinda OK, right? I’ve left the complete twaddle out.)

Mark Newgarden branches out from his anti humour gag strips to an anti design front cover. Is he aiming for “so fugly that it’s good”? I have so many questions.

Newgarden’s 80s work was fantastic! Innovative and heartbreaking. What happened?

“P. Revess” (I think that’s Michael Kupperman?) contributes the funnest page in the series.

And this issue is on white, covered stock, which makes the black ink a lot blacker.

Chris Ware does the most heart rendering.

Is this about Waco? (Gary Panter.)

At this point, I’m just fuck this, fuck that, fuck this in particular… (Jonathon Rosen.)

Tony Mostrom leans heavily into edge lord territory… but successfully!

David Mazzucchelli does a pretty amusing (and “outrageous”) strip… but it also feels so tossed-off. Did the editors call people and say “just give us stuff nobody else would buy”?

And speaking of lords of the edge — Mike Diana. (It ends the way you’re thinking.)

So that was a big disappointment.

I seem to recall reading an interview with some person that was involved (mind like a steel sieve, me), and he said that he thought that Snake Eyes was cancelled because Kim Thompson started Zero Zero, and he didn’t want two “competing” anthologies at Fantagraphics. Zero Zero started in 1995, so I guess it’s possible (if Thompson started soliciting work a year before that).

Or was it Pictopia? Can’t find it.

Kaz is interviewed in The Comics Journal #186, page 122:

KAZ Because I was cranking out more comics, I had to
reach deeper into my skull for ideas. Anything that seeped
out, I used. In the past, I would usually approach a strip as
if I was doing something important. I wanted the work to
be arty. Pretentious was not a dirty word to me. But now
I had more deadlines and funnier stuff slipped out. I was
staying up, working later and later. All those old gag
comics began to look tragic to me. One morning I woke up
and everything in my room and apartment had a black
outline around it, with crosshatching and color separation.
I had gotten cartoonal knowledge! I learned to relax and
allow my drawings to get cruder so that my comics could
get more organic. Closer to the way my brain worked.
Glenn Head was starting up the old Bad News comic book,
which became Snake Eyes. And I was excited to get
involved with that, because there were a lot of talented
cartoonists living in New York that did not have a regular
outlet. I envisioned a book that showcased the New York
style of cartooning that had come out of SVA and RA W.
KELLY: What was it like working with a co-editor?
KAZ: It was fun to sit around and plan the books and talk
about comics. We had a similar vision about comics. We
both love that gritty, urban wiseguy school of cartooning.
For me, the most rewarding aspect was contracting artists
whose work I admired and asking them to draw a few
pages. My hands would tremble as I opened the envelopes.
Since we weren’t paying much and didn’ t really crack the.
whip as far as deadlines went, the issues took forever to put
together. Some Of the strips were too weird for most
people. Jonathon Rosen, Jayr Pulga, and Brad Johnson —
their visions seemed too private for most readers. At first,
I had a hard time convincing Glenn to run Brad Johnson’ s
work.
KELLY: It looks like it’s drawn by a retarded 12-year-old.
Which is why I like it.
KAZ To be fair, Glenn tried to get me excited about certain
cartoonists that I couldn’ t see until much later. Dan Clowes
is one example. At first I thought he was too slick and
surface-oriented. But I was wrong. Now he’s one of my
favorite cartoonists. And he’s doing work with so much
depth, it’s astonishing. Now I see people on the streets and
I automatically think, “He’s a Clowes character!” I wasn’t
looking below the surface. But for the most part, Glenn
and I agreed. It’s just that we don’t seem to have any
be a dangerous thing playing with your consciousness.
Your concept of the world changes. It becomes organic
and infinite. I never did much drawing on hallucinogens.
My hands were too shaky and my mind was exploding
commercial instincts. I tend to gravitate to work
that looks wrong.
I can remember Alex Ross and myself try-
ing to draw like someone who was insane or
retarded. Instead of attempting, like everybody
else, to be really sophisticated or smalt, we got
into this idea of American dumbness, like Philip
Guston, whose work looks completely dumb on
the surface — big eyeballed guys , big giant feet
— but there’s a sensitivity there. Basically, he
was still doing Abstract Expressionist painting,
but he was using these really simple symbols
that looked wrong on the surface, like Mutt and
Jeff Philip Guston was called a stumblebum
painterby a critic once. sounds
like Guston paints. I think it’s a way of being
nostalgic for the things you liked as a kid, like
Popeye, but also being sophisticated at the same
time. That ‘ s sort of what I do with Underworld.
Some of the gags are really dumb, but they
make me laugh so I leave them in. If it wasn’t a
weekly strip, I’d bea little more thoughtful. But
because I have to put it out every week, parts of
my personality that would otherwise be guarded
pop out. So you see me as the dumb vaudevil-
lian guy, falling down for a laugh.
KELLY: So Snake Eyes is no more?
KAZ It was too difficult editing a comic book
and balancing an illustration career and doing
my own comics and having a social life. I was
also co-hosting a weekly radio show. Glenn Head did a
wonderful job on that book, but it was driving him batty
too. Fantagraphics was not paying us anything for editing
and designing it. We were only getting a page rate. And it
didn’t seem like anyone besides our fellow cartoonists
were interested in an anthology comic book with no theme
that only came out once a year. It kicked the shit out of us
after three issues.

Chris McCubbin writes in Amazing Heroes #193, page 77:

“Post Popeye Picto-Fiction” my shiny
white butt, boys. This is comics.. .got
it? Words and pikturs—comics.
Y ‘know, I’m all for comics grmving
and changing as an artistic medium,
but I’m more and more convinced that
this “comix as art” movement inspired
by RAW and earnestly embraced by
Snake Eyes is about as good for the
comics medium as pompous put-on
bands like Rush and Genesis were for
rock ‘n’ roll… in other words, not at
all.
Most of the stuff in Snake Eyes will
only appeal to a certain kind of
“artistic” audience, either the com-
plete artistic technician, who values
technique above all consideration of
content (because, make no mistake, all
the contributors to this book are bril-
liant visual artists), or the black-clad
art school nerd whose definition of
“great art” is whatever would upset
mom if she got a look at it. No real
human being can feel any sort of emo-
tional connection with gnomic pieces
like David Sandlin’s “Snakes Crawl at
Night” or Alex Rose’s pompously
“Untitled” piece. And still Gary will
whine over at the Journal that this
undigestible mess isn’t outselling
Aliens Vs. Predator.
Still, pile this much talent into 80
pages and you’re bound to come up
with something interesting. There’s a
typically brilliant and disturbing piece
from Julie Doucet, the young Cana-
dian cartoonist who everyone (includ-
ing me and Harvey Pekar) is touting
as the Next Big Artistic Thing. Kaz’s
lead-off story “The Tragedy of Saun”
has a genuinely perverse cuteness to
it. Doug Allen’s “History of Art” is
a dead-on cautionary tale about the art
world, and his “My First 10 Cars” is
a nice bit of no-nonsense, whineless
autobiography. Mark Newgarden’s
“The Little Nun” is a classic bit of
visual slapstick. The artistic heavy-
weight Tom DeHaven/Gary Panter/
Charles Burns collaboration, “Pixie
Meat.” almost overcomes its essential
Onanism with sheer visual fascina-
tion.
My personal favorite was Bob Sik-
oryak’s “Action Camus,” which retells
the story of the classic existential nwel
The Stranger as a series of Golden
Age comics cwers, and is virtually the
only piece in the book to have the
common courtesy to acknowledge its
origins A new Mack White story is
always au delight, and the primal
vindictiveness of Dennis Worden’s
“Mohammed, Jesus and Moses Go
for a Stroll” on the inside front cover
is like crossing a large, hot room full
of obese, flatulent, pipe-smoking
pontificating philosophy professors
and suddely coming to an open win-
dow with a breeze blowing through.
Final score for Snake Eyes, about
50/50 minor gems and wasted poten-
tial. If you’ve got the S8 you could do
worse, but expect to be annoyed.

That’s a fair review.

Drew Friedman is interviewed The Comics Journal #151, page 79:

KELLY: What do you think of the different anthologies that
have sprung up in Weirdo’s demise?
FRIEDMAN: Some of them are very good. News and
Snake Eyes… I look forward to every issue of Snake Eyes;
Glenn Head is doing a great job with that. It meets some-
where between Weirdo and RAW — where it should be.
RAW used to be a little artsy to some people’s taste, and
Wéirdo was just a little bit too funky and ratty to other
people’s taste.

I do see people mentioning Snake Eyes out of the blue on twitter and stuff… “wasn’t that a good anthology”… But perhaps they haven’t re-read it over the past three decades, either.

Fantagraphics would go on to publish Zero Zero to greater acclaim.

This blog post is part of the Punk Comix series.

PX09: The Complete Jack Survives

The Complete Jack Survives by Jerry Moriarty (273x362mm)

This book was published by the late and very lamented Buenaventura Press, and basically reprints the Raw One-Shot from 84, but adds a few more things.

This is in the same format at the first book, but is a hardback and is printed on shiny paper, so it looks less like a mysterious artefact than the original book.

It’s shot (and printed) in full colour, while the original book was in black and white. I’m not sure what all the wispy blueish paint is — is it all white-out?

We get two introductions — a short one by Richard McGuire, and a longer one by Chris Ware (who tells us what a genius Moriarty is). I mean, it’s true, but it feels like a hard sell. It’s probably a sound commercial move…

The reproduction here is outstanding — you can really get way into all the details. However — I think the original, stark black-and-white version of this just had more impact?

Let’s compare the discourager strip. Here’s the new printing…

… and here’s the 84 printing. Doesn’t that just grab you more?

Let’s zoom in on one of the panels… So much detail! He’s really slathered on the blue/white paint here (white-out?) that it’s difficult to imagine that this was really meant to be reproduced in black and white.

But then:

That’s an awesome panel!

OK, enough of this quibbling — the strips are still great, and it’s a fabulous book.

It also feels very generous — we get a bunch of newer pieces to, and that feels like discovering a new treasure trove.

Amazing book from a fantastic artist.

Hey! These people agree with me!

The first version of this book was a ‘Raw One Shot’ in 1984, printed in flat, contrasting black and white. Few people reading this volume will have seen it, but there is a focus and directness in that version that is missing here. Whereas the original version simply presented large format comics, this version is more of an ‘Art of’ book. The colour reproduction of these pages, which are so layered and worked over, is undeniably gorgeous, allowing you to see the original art photographed as is, in blue, black, greys and whites drawing the eye in and around the layers of ink and paint. But there is a distracting quality to that detail which makes the artwork itself almost more important than its subject matter. It might have been better to choose a few strips for this treatment rather than present the whole volume this way, particularly as there are plenty of pencil drawings, unfinished sketches and paintings included which provide a good overview of Moriarty’s style.

Bah:

Richard McGuire provides a brief preface while Chris Ware offers effusive praise in his introduction.[1] In it, he claims this volume as the “most important” comic art reprint to ever appear. Ware admits a tendency to hyperbole, and I must call “hyperbole” on the statement. Is this volume more important than Krazy Kat reprints (to name just one title that comes to mind) ? This is not to denigrate the work itself, it is excellent, just not as amazing as Ware would have you believe.

It was reviewed a lot at the time:

[…] this year brings The Complete Jack Survives, every strip, drawing and painting meticulously re-mastered to expose their full tonal range and previously little-seen under-drawing, and under-writing (“A dog napping seen I?” surfaces in an empty speech balloon), alongside tender photos and commentary. “My father has had time to become almost mythology to me, so Jack grows more poignant in my old age as I fuse myself with my Dad. 55 years after his death we survive.”

This blog post is part of the Punk Comix series.

PX04: In the Shadow of No Towers

In the Shadow of No Towers by Art Spiegelman (255x367mm)

This is Spiegelman’s book about the 2001-09-11 attack on New York, so even being slightly critical feels both churlish and besides the point. On the other hand, I do remember feeling somewhat disappointed by this book, so let’s see…

This is a pretty thick book in just about the same format as Raw. But it doesn’t have that many pages — it’s printed on thick cardboard stock.

It’s got very high production values — the spot varnish is used in original ways. (This looks totally black unless you’re holding it in the right angle.) But… er… is this… is this in good taste? I mean, I winced when I realised what was going on on here.

The book starts with an introduction that explains how this book came to be: Spiegelman was offered a full page in one of those German newspapers that still haven’t converted to tabloid format. So one huge, full page per month.

So the pages are printed sideways here — and each full size original page span two pages in the book. I don’t think I’ve seen anything printed quite like this — it’s an interesting object in itself.

And while reading the first few pages, I couldn’t understand just why I was disappointed by the book. It’s pretty strong stuff.

There’s only ten full-sized pages, so there’s not that much room to develop much of anything… but as vignettes go, it’s pretty good? I don’t much enjoy the digital bits, but the artworks fine…

By the tenth and final page, I was agreeing with my assessment from a decade and a half ago — it’s just such a slight book. It feels like Spiegelman was bored by the entire thing by this point.

And then… we just get a handful of random newspaper comic strips from about a hundred years before?

The connection seems very tenuous indeed. It just feels like padding.

So there you go. I hope I didn’t say anything scandalous. I’ll leave that to Noah Berlatsky, in his In the Shadow of No Talent article about the book, from his phase where he seemed to try very hard to become disliked by all the “serious” people in comics:

For me, as for millions of Americans, September 11, 2001 was no big deal.

[…]

The latest cultural artifact to go rummaging for meaning and runaway sales amidst the charred bones of the World Trade Center is cartoonist Art Spiegelman’s “In the Shadow of No Towers.” Spiegelman knows first-hand about the profitability of tragedy — his most famous book, Maus, was based on his father’s experiences in the Holocaust, and was an unexpected and enormous commercial success. That was twenty years ago, however. In the intervening time, Spiegelman has edited some anthologies, written a mediocre children’s book, drawn some New Yorker covers, and generally rested on his reputation as the man who made art comics a (potentially) mass market genre.

[…]

Even with all these distractions, however, Spiegelman couldn’t quite grind out a book’s worth of material. Almost the second half of “In the Shadow of No Towers” is devoted to reprints of early full-page strips from the dawn of the medium.

I’m not sure, but I think this is a negative review:

As Spiegelman struggled to come to terms with the losses of Sept. 11, he lost himself in nostalgia for an irretrievable era in his art — the Old World of comics — much as his aging father longed for the Europe that had existed before the war.

The Guardian also couches their words:

In the Shadow of No Towers is most compelling as it charts the changing memory of 9/11. The last panel shows how time only widens the gap between those who can escape the shadow of 9/11 and those direct trauma victims who cannot.

Here’s a clearer one:

Along with the paltry content, the series — originally published in installments — loses something when collected together. Instead of a build-up, there is overlapping and repetition. Spiegelman’s tone also begins to grate. Overwhelmed by the continuing news and by conspiracy theories, he claims that instead of losing his life, he lost his mind. As with anyone who makes such a claim, it’s melodramatic and corny.

This blog post is part of the Punk Comix series.