Saturday, January 26, 2008

Wake Up Calls! Things to Do To-Day --

My grand amigo Mike Dobbs aka G. Michael Dobbs is launching his new book today in Springfield, Massachusetts, the first in a series of book signings and events lined up for the winter months to promote Escape!

If you live anywhere near Springfield, MA, hustle over to the Central Library on State Street a little before 2 p.m. to get a seat -- then enjoy Mike's presentation/lecture on the subject of 1990s animated films and TV programming and Escape! How Animation broke into the Mainstream in the 1990s. He'll have a few pre-release copies to sell and Mike will also have order forms for you to pre-purchase your own signed copies, but Mike's talks on animation alone are well worth the trip.

  • Scroll down to Mike's January 22nd post on his blog for more details, and make time to visit the event if you live in the area!

  • And you've got just one more week to pick up The Coffin Joe Trilogy DVD boxed set from Fantoma, which I recommend highly to all horror fans and fanatics. This is essential viewing!

    If you're a horror comics maniac, like me, you need it just for the sterling English-language mini-editions of the ultra-rare 1960s Zé do Caixão/Coffin Joe horror comics, which are amazing in and of themselves. These are unique to the Fantoma releases, and the boxed set features a comic that's not available otherwise (each separate release of the three films sports one comic each; the boxed set gives you a fourth!).

    But the films -- well, they're even more astonishing, truly classic of international horror cinema and far more transgressive and horrific than any of Herschell Gordon Lewis's celebrated gore films.

    As I announced earlier this month, this set of José Mojica Marins's stunning Zé do Caixão/Coffin Joe films is coming off the market on January 31st, when Fantoma's license expires and they have to pull the trilogy set off the market. Don't wait!

  • Here's my extensive January 7th Myrant writeup, loaded with pix and all kinds of links through which you can purchase your copy of the set from now -- don't hesitate, if you're the least bit interested and have the $$, this will become a dear item on eBay in short order!

  • OK, José, I gotta get back to work! Have a sizzlin' Saturday, one and all!

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    Sunday, November 25, 2007

    Sunday Spinnings

    Yesterday morning I finished reading my friend Mike Dobb's new book Escape! How Animation Went Mainstream in the 1990s -- this morning, I finished reading my friend Tim Lucas's truly massive, moving Mario Bava: All the Colors of the Dark. Today, I'll be continuing work on a book project as a writer, The Neil Gaiman Companion, which coauthors Chris Golden and Henry Wagner brought me into in the eleventh hour. Mike and Tim's books are an inspiration, to say the least, and I'll blog about both books later this week -- but today, I've got to keep the clock ticking on the Gaiman book.

    Lorraine a' Malena, again. Again.

    More of Lorraine a' Malena's music is spinning in my head this morning, and now on my player as I work on the book project. One tune in particular strangely fits the process Chris, Hank and I currently are steeped in -- reading, re-reading, and autopsying Neil's body of work:

    "I've been dissecting all the letters that you sent me,
    Slicing through them looking for the real you,
    Cutting through the fat and gristle
    Of each tortuous epistle
    Trying to work out what to do..."

    - from Postmortem on Our Love (lyrics by Neil Gaiman, music by Lorraine Garland)

    That said, though, it's a tune that I still associate with Van Morrison that I hit 'replay' on a couple few too many times:

    "I'll tell me ma
    When I get home,
    The boys won't leave
    The girls alone
    They pull my hair,
    They steal my comb,
    But that's all right,
    Till I get home..."

  • Lorraine a' Malena's website is where you can purchase their new CD Mirror Mirror -- Gaiman fans, take note.
  • You need this CD.

    Thanks again, Lorraine, for gracing the week with the copy you gave me!

    Today and tomorrow I'll be working through Hank's weekend torrent of chapters, amid transcribing the five hours of interview tapes I came home with; we'll be at this till it's done in the next couple of weeks. Wish us luck!

    At last, a photo of the CCS/Bissette booth in the Antique Mall in Quechee, VT; photo by Mark & Kathy Masztal

    A few things I didn't get to this week, as yet:

    * My old cartooning amigo Mark Masztal and his wife Kathy were in the area this past weekend, and Marge and I managed to join them for breakfast on Tuesday morning at our favorite Windsor eatery Stub & Laura's.
  • Mark and Kathy were on their second honeymoon, and whilst in the area visited the CCS/Bissette booth at the Quechee Gorge Village Antique Mall -- here's Mark's account of their trip and his plunder.

  • * I'll use this opportunity to shamelessly plug once again The Center for Cartoon Studies/Bissette booth -- Dealer #653 -- in
  • said Quechee Gorge Village Antique Mall,
  • and note this is a perfect shopping spot for Christmas, folks.

    The booth is literally jam-packed with one-of-a-kind signed CCS and Bissette collectibles, including signed copies of Sarah Stewart Taylor's mystery novels (sold two more of them yesterday!), James Sturm's graphic novels, Peter Money's poetry tomes, Cayetano 'Cat' Garza original art, Bissette-illustrated ceramics (see Mark's blog, linked above, for a shot of him with his Bissette Quechee Coffee Zombee mug!), lots of CCS student comics/mini-comics/comics packs, and tons of outstanding and curious vintage comics, factory-sealed DVDs, outsider LPs, and much, much more.
  • Colleen Frakes's Xeric-Award-winning series Tragic Relief is there, complete -- including copies with Colleen's original art packaged with the comics! -- along with almost everything listed here from the CCS Class of 2007! If you can't shop in Quechee, though, click on this link and shop here --
  • --and here's the online venue for comics and minis from the class of 2008, almost all of which is in the Quechee booth, too, signed and waiting for you.

  • * While I don't play favorites at CCS, I do want to note among my readings this past week was a most enjoyable re-reading of the first two issues out thus far of Sean Ford's excellent Only Skin: New Tales of the Slow Apocalypse, which is likewise on sale at the booth.
  • But don't take my word for it -- here's one of the most expansive online reviews of Sean's first issue, check it out.
  • Then quit dawdling and buy both issues -- while you're at it, get two sets: it'll make a great Christmas gift for some unwary comics-loving soul.

  • Have a great Sunday...

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    Tuesday, November 20, 2007

    Visiting Neil Part IV,
    Escape! and More...


    Ah, so many things we didn't get into with our formal interview time with Neil -- but so much we soaked up via our downtime with Neil and Lorraine. It's important to note that the American and UK releases and critical responses to both of this year's Neil flicks, Stardust and Beowulf, are quite different from one another, and Neil got into that during our time together. Having known Neil for over two decades, this whole new life phase he's into is compelling (to say the least), and I'll get into my observations on that as time permits in the days ahead.

    But first, a little catching up before I wind up my overview of the trip's last day, below. Read on --


    Home Agin, Home Agin, Jiggedy-Jig

    Our first snowfall of the season is upon us this morning in Windsor VT, and it's really coming down. I love it, but I'm counting Hank's and my blessings on the weekend at Neil's. Though there was a brief snow squall on Saturday morning at Neil's, nothing stuck and it was a sweet weekend weatherwise -- my heart goes out to all trying to drive/fly to or from Thanksgiving gatherings this week. Good luck, one and all!

    Mike Dobb's New Book Escape...

    ...was waiting for me on our dinner table when I got home Sunday night a little after midnight. After kissing a sleepy Marge and saying my kitty-cat howdy-dos to Tuco and Lizzy and then unpacking the car, I jumped into reading Mike's book, and it's a sweet read. I'll be posting a full writeup later this week or weekend, but suffice to say for now Escape! How Animation Broke Into the Mainstream in the 1990s is worth picking up now, and worth picking up as gifts for any animation fans you have in the household or family/friend karass.

    Constructed around a selection of the one-of-a-kind interviews and articles Mike scribed for his tenure as editor on Animato! in the late 1980s and '90s, and his own zine Animation Planet in the '90s, the tidy tome Escape! provides the first comprehensive overview of the major changes the animation medium and industry enjoyed in the last decade. Mike's chapters conscientiously lay a foundation for its cumulative portrait, via in-depth interviews and essays with/about the key practitioners of the art, of all facets of that transformation: the venues (kicking off with the launch of Cartoon Network), the industry, the creators, the animators, the independents, the voices, and more. Mike winds up Escape! with a potpourri of reviews of 1990s videos, DVDs and programming, the whole sweetened with behind-the-scenes photos and some shots of Mike and his own industry-related travels of the '90s.

    Order your copy and/or gift copies now --
  • here's the Amazon.com link for Escape!,
  • the Buy.com venue for Escape!,
  • Oldies.com's sales page for Escape!,
  • and the Amazon.com UK venue for those of you reading this on the other side of the Atlantic.

  • Highly recommended, folks, and more later!

    Visiting Neil, Part IV

    So, mere minutes after I posted on Sunday AM, Hank called me downstairs to join he and Neil for breakfast. Man, homemade flapjacks by Neil for breakfast Saturday, and Neil-made omelots on Sunday -- sweet morning meals, both. Neil's formula for omelets includes a tip he picked up from a British cooking show he watched when he was a mere lad: after melting the butter in the pan, you pour the extra butter melt into the egg omelet mix. Ya, I know, it's not good for me, but it's so goooooooood. It made the omelet one of the tastiest I've ever enjoyed, not to mention the generous amount of local cheese folded into the center of the omelet.

    Also mere moments after I hit the blog 'publish' button Sunday AM, the gunshots from the surrounding woods echoed with a sporadic, almost rapid-fire multiple-shot discharge. Then, silence.

    After breakfast, Neil, Hank and I moved into 'The China Room' to continue the interview, and we'd no longer begun than we heard the 'chop chop chop' of a helicoptor outside -- distant, but close enough to register even in the house.

    Neil looked over at Hank and said, "That would be the day's first hunter being airlifted to the hospital."

    Hank
    laughed, and I added, "No, really. Why else would a 'coptor be out here on a Sunday morning?" Any marijuana harvest is long gone; deer-hunting season in the Midwest, folks.

    We had a solid interview session, finally getting into some of the writing nuts-and-bolts I was hoping we'd get into, when the arrival of a couple of Neil's amigos derailed our final session. Good people and a timely meeting, for reasons that may manifest later, but it was too bad we got derailed -- and we got into other things. Still, we came away with over seven hours+ of interview tapes and much more, so it was a trip well worth taking in terms of the book project.

    With the interview session essentially over and only a little over an hour left to our weekend with Neil, I took advantage of the disruption to tuck into a cup of coffee and catch up with Mary Gaiman. Mary and I first met and bonded when I visited their UK home in Nutley back in 1990 or so, and it was great to spend some time together. Our half-hour chat turned into an hour of conversation -- again, it's been years! -- and by the time I re-engaged with Hank and Neil, it was time to go.

    I had packed early in the morning, but it took Hank a bit to get his bags together. By the time we were out the door, Neil was standing resolute in the doorway, like some black-bellied poppa: "You don't have time to say goodbye, you have to go or you'll miss your plane, Steve!" He was no doubt happy to see us go, with a full day ahead of him and his own plane flight to prep for, but still, I insisted upon proper farewells all around -- and then we were off.

    The drive to the airport was uneventful, but Hank was sweating the time more than I -- if I missed my plane, I'd catch the next one. Big deal, I didn't have to be anywhere until Tuesday, really. Still, with a 3:25 departure, it was 2:50 when Hank dropped me at the Northwest departures entry -- luck was with me, though, as there wasn't a line. "Can I possibly make a 3:25 departure?" I asked the blonde woman at the Northwest desk. She smiled, "You're fine," and within seconds she had my boarding pass in my hand and I was off to the gate. The plane was already boarding, but the flight wasn't full, and my seat was waiting with ample luggage space overhead.

    I flew back to Boston sitting aisle seat amid a family with six daughters from age four to teenagers, all en route to Beantown. The kids were incredibly well-behaved the whole way, and thanked me profusely when I shared my $5 snack-pack with the clan. The littlest one had a Care Bears backpack -- Dreamcatcher, coincidentally enough, given the Sandman-heavy weekend -- and I was amazed that my own daughter Maia's beloved pop culture debris had come back around for the 21st Century.

    We arrived in Boston ahead of schedule and Chris Golden was waiting for me at the airport. Off we went (I travel only with carry-on these days), and the rest of the evening was sweet, too. Connie Golden had a great plate of grub waiting for me, Chris and I sat up talking for a couple hours (and Chris loaded me up with copies of his latest books, so plenty of winter reading ahead), and I was wide awake enough to head home, arriving in Vermont a little after midnight after a pleasant two-hour drive with Steely Dan music and thoughts of the weekend spinning.

    There's much more to tell, and that I'll do in the days to come. Neil covered a lot of ground with Hank and I, and I've just given the teeniest tip of many icebergs with these posts -- more to come!

    A busy Center for Cartoon Studies day ahead of me -- so, see you here tomorrow. The snow is still pounding down outside, but I've got my snow tires on, so it's all good -- have a great Tuesday, one and all...

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    Friday, November 09, 2007

    The New Age of Animation (And How We Got Here) and Common Ground Update...

    A brand-new book from my good amigo Mike Dobbs aka G. Michael Dobbs is hot off the presses, and I'll be writing about it here in the coming week (once my copy is in my steaming little mitts). That sweet cover is by Mark Martin, too, another draw for old-timers and 'toon lovers alike.

    With Bee Movie and Beowulf -- the former in theaters everywhere now, the latter coming in a week or so -- representing the polar extremes of contemporary American feature animation, Mike's book is more timely than ever.

    Escape! How Animation Broke into the Mainstream in the 1990s is the title, and the subject is indeed the transition animation and animated features have made into wider and adult venues, out of the G-rated family and "children's matinee" territory the medium was consigned to for so long. It's been a gradual process, with landmarks like Ralph Bakshi's 1970s and '80s features (Fritz the Cat, Heavy Traffic, Fire & Ice, American Pop, etc.), The Simpsons, Spike & Mike's festivals, the anime explosion and much, much more peppering the landscape. But it all changed bigtime in the 1990s, and that's the turf Mike tills in his new book.

  • Mike's Escape! is available to you all, here and now, via Oldies.com -- place your order now!
  • Here's the link for UK animation lovers and fans to pick up their copies,
  • so it's now in reach on both sides of the Atlantic, folks. Get it while it's hot!

    More on Escape! in the coming days...
    __________________

    As I've mentioned here before, I served on the Board of Directors for the Common Ground Restaurant in Brattleboro, VT from 2005-6, an active part of the communal effort to resurrect this venerable collective (worker-owned) eatery after a quarter-century of serving great, healthy food to the community and a few years of limbo after that collective collapsed and evaporated. When Marge and I moved out of the Brattleboro/Marlboro area late last year, I stepped down from the Board, just as the new Common Ground reopened its doors.

    It's been quite a year for the Common Ground, full of highs and lows and the inevitable birth pangs and initial growth spasms, culminating in -- sigh -- the closing of the restaurant a week or so ago. But it isn't over yet, not by a long shot, and here's hoping the Common Ground's resurrection (and, now, transmutation) gains a new head of steam.

  • Here's the iBrattleboro.com article, which provides the best current overview of a complex situation,
  • and the Brattleboro Reformer piece on the Common Ground.


  • Have a great Friday, one and all, and see you here this weekend. Next weekend I'll be visiting and interviewing my worldly and overworked friend Neil Gaiman, so I'll be out of the blogosphere for a few days the end of next week and weekend. Adios for now...

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    Sunday, January 21, 2007

    Putting on the Ritz

    Spent the day yesterday -- and will spending today -- at last getting my CCS office set up and functional.

    First, though, I tidied up the senior's studio, which meant picking up lots of empty beverage containers; I don't drink coffee, but if I did, the cup of calcified and molded Jo I removed from the computer workstation would have done me in on that. It was like Green Acres coffee: a solid mass. Tried to dump it down a restroom sink, but no go -- fungoid solids don't flow. Into the garbage it went; the rest of the beverage containers went into recycling after I rinsed them out. I used to handle returnables in my dad's store (Bissette's Market), from age six to 21: nothing grosses me out in the returnable bottles and cans department, I've seen and handled it all. Still, new studio rule: End of every workday, guys and gals, you clean up all empties!

    Though most had neatened up their work and drawing tables sufficiently, the floors in a few stations were keeping feets warm with slagheaps of paper, lost art tools, and the occasional organic matter (hmmm, is this a chewed up pretzel?). I swept that all up and out; paper, particularly with drawings, went on to the top of the respective drawing area; the rest, recycled or into the trash. Took about an hour or so, then I set up the Critique area, which was last semester a loosy-goosey set up: not this semester. The wall is clear and ready for the students's thesis work to be posted, eighteen chairs (all black) set up and ready for our first crit session. All in all, it wasn't bad. I mean, these are cartoonists, folks. Young cartoonists. Their work stations will never hold a candle to the descriptions Tom Sutton used to give me of his studio.

    Then, on to my shitheap in the office. I've been pretty lenient on cleanup issues thus far because I've not set any kind of respectable example -- well, that's no longer the case.

    First off, dig, throughout the move -- from the first day Marge and I decided we were moving closer to CCS -- I hauled various and sundry boxes and items to my CCS office, and did my best to keep them neatly stacked and organized. But they were, after all, boxes, full of books and very odds & ends. Many of my art tools made the pilgrimage, too, ahead of our move. And my desk became the repository for all CCS paperwork and files I'd had loosely organized in my then-pretty-new Marlboro office/studio space; in short, a moveable shitheap, shifted around on the desk as necessary to make room for each week's pressure-cooker, two-day work stint. Time to organize at last! Set it up! Get it up!

    Despite the warning posted on one of two pipes running throught the far wall (Danger - Asbestos - Cancer Risk - Avoid Creating Dust -- the insulating wraps on the pipes are indeed asbestos; I give 'em wide berth, and otherwise spend minimal time in the windowless office), it is a nice work space. I've at last hung up mucho art, all my various comics industry and horror writers awards (my son Dan always wished I'd hung this stuff up in my home studio, but I never had the wall space), my graduation diploma and letter of recommendation from The Joe Kubert School of Cartoon & Graphic Art, Inc., some family items, etc.; emptied boxes of paleontology, zoology, and various photo reference books and racked them in a trio of bookcases (bringing in one more bookcase this morning, to shelf the oversized paleo, Zdenak Burian and science books); and finished placing the stacks of 'textbooks' and back issues of my work in the two metal cabinets in the office. The latter are also now homes for my bizarre and beloved magnet collection (including a batch of vintage '50s sf miniature movie posters I bought from me old pal G. Michael Dobbs from his management tenure at the Tower Theaters down in Massachusetts; Mike's concession stand sold the coolest movie collectibles and best movie popcorn ever!), and some of my fossil collection and coolest toys grace the tops of the filing cabinets.

    Which leads me to today's task: filing. I've tons of CCS paper already in file folders, but it's time at last to centralize and collate the filing system, get them organized in the file cabinets, and today's the day.

    One huge liability in the office, though, other than the lung-cancer-inducing asbestos: the radio doesn't pick up the local NPR stations. I shouldered through yesterday listening to local crap-rock broadcasts. Today, audio cassettes of music I love or can at least stomach: Doc Watson, Captain Beefheart, Patty Smith, Ennio Morricone, Charlie Poole, Tom Waites -- get me through the day.

    It's sunny, spectacular even, outside -- I've also got some drawing to do at fellow CCS faculty Peter Money's house, for a secret assignment -- so, off to the CCS Verizon Building office now so I can savor some of today's sweet weather!
    _______________

    Marge said her goodbyes to our Marlboro house yesterday, en route home from a birthday lunch date with her sister Pat Lambert (who is an amazing artist and photographer; hello, Pat!). Marge and our neighbor Arlene Hanson spent a little time in the now-empty home we rebuilt (it was a gutted shell when we bought it in December 2001), were wed in (April 2002), and lived in ever since. She came home and said pretty much what I have felt for some time now: she will forever love our Marlboro house, it was good to us, but this Windsor house is our home. It feels like home, and our connection with the Marlboro digs has been severed completely. Odd feeling, but there it is. The closing is tomorrow morning, and we're both ready to see this end. Emotionally, we're already past it.
    _________________

    Followup to my time at Cole Odell's Middlebury College class: Hey, Cole, get some photos of your class, I'll post 'em here. I'm also going to post some CCS photos this semester; time to dress up this tired old blog with some up-and-coming students! It's their generation's world, we just get to live here.

    That said, I've also begun to come across a lot of vintage photos from my old convention days/daze, and once the new computers are set up and I have a functional computer-and-scanner work station in place, I'll start posting those, too.

    Followup to Dave Booz's comment yesterday: Hey, Dave, drove through Killington this week en route to Middlebury, and passed the road to your place. Hey, there's snow at last! Not a lot, but snow, baby! You guys coming up?

    Have a great Sunday, one and all.

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    Wednesday, May 17, 2006

    Running on Fumes

    ...but hey, the sun is out a bit, and that's a relief!

    So, let's see: in reply to Mike Dobbs comment on yesterday's post: Mike, don't fret. I think there's a McDonald's on the Barre-Montpelier road, within five miles or so tops of the Capital dome. "You want we supersize your maple-tree suck?"

    Note to my steadfast ink-slinging amigo Mark Martin: "I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it" - Evelyn Beatrice Hall.

    And you know I will.

    Now, send that nickel to the ACLU, like you said you would.
    ___

    Rick Veitch alerted me to the new issue of Mother Jones, which has an article by Eleanor Cooney on "The Politics of Horror," primarily discussing Joe Dante and Sam Hamm's Masters of Horror installment "Homecoming" as an election-year hour of television worthy of note. Having already steered this blog's readers to Tim Lucas's Video Watchblog post on the episode when it originally aired, and discussed "Homecoming" and its precursor J'Accuse at some length here before, I'll just say check out Cooney's article and be sure to pick up "Homecoming" when it's released on DVD this summer, if you haven't seen it already. An audacious and eventful landmark in TV horror, and loooooong overdue use of airtime to address the shit we've got ourselves into as a country.

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    Wednesday, September 21, 2005

    CCS Musings: Week Two

    The sense of community is palpable; I felt it as soon as I walked into the CCS/Colodny building (an hour before my class begins -- always a little early these days). James Sturm was sitting across from the entryway, visible through the main floor classroom, talking to the attentive gathering -- "Hey, Steve!", he called over, and I waved to him and all with a clear view of the doorway. James looked and sounded relaxed, clear, open; quite a contrast to our first week, when everything seemed claustrophobically overwhelming.

    (Man, does this bring back memories of my first month at the Kubert School... but I won't bore you with that old-man-dribble today.)

    As my amigos know, I have a tendency to over-prepare and become compulsively fascinated with the nuances and details. Of course, that's where the stories are -- "the devil's in the details," some say, but devil that I am, that's also where the meat and potatoes reside. I've been working hard at narrowing the focus of the comics studies class since winter, first intent on the goalpost of turning in a comprehensive syllabus back in March, thereafter targeting what, exactly, I could convey to the students in a mere fourteen sessions of 2 1/2 hours each.

    Inevitably, material worthy of attention has to succumb to the editing process. I have marvelous resources for presentations on and discussion of the Bayoux Tapestry, illuminated Medieval manuscripts, the 15th and 16th Century Dances of Death (primarily Hans Holbein the Younger's 1538 edition and 1491/1500 The Danse Macabre of Women), etc., but something had to give.

    Week One instead focused on the Japanese ghost scrolls (with a quick follow-through to manga and anime, showing a few examples of that culture's 17th and 18th Century intermediary works -- this improvised after Michelle Ollie mentioned to me that Christine hoped to show anime to her fellow students in later weeks), Mixtec codices (primarily the Cordex Nuttall, with a peek at the incomprehensible but exquisite Codex Borgia), Bosch triptyches, the European broadsheets (primarily the 'crime and punishment' broadsheets), Hogarth, Goya, and capping with a 'preview' of the comic strips to come via a presentation on Winsor McCay's work in comics and animation.

    Of course, one of the first questions I was hit with: Why had I passed over the Bayeux Tapestry?

    Bingo!

    You do what you can, and what there's time for.

    I've also tried to turn liabilities into strengths: for instance, I'm not yet versed in either scanning or powerpoint presentations (a learning curve I'm working on in hopes of debuting power-point next week), and my available stash of slides are genre-specific (selected and shot for my Journeys Into Fear horror comics history presentation). So this week's session -- covering relevent 19th Century landmarks, the origins of the American comic strip, transitional stages in bound comics (from Toppfer's 1830s 'picture-stories' to the first bound comic strip collections), and the birth of the comic book format -- became a hands-on, 'show and tell' session, with me placing as many hard copies of books and comics pages in their hands as the timeframe would accomodate. In a way, it's too bad I will be versed in powerpoint for next year, but realistically these old books couldn't handle annual handling... still, it was very cool to be able to place the books themselves in the students' hands.

    As any comic reader knows, reading is as much a tactile sensory experience as it is visual: the feel, weight, smell of the books and pages are essential to the experience, a reality increasing reliance on digital presentations eschews. Touch is as essential to the drawing/creative process as thought and visual engagement with the work at hand, and that can be fueled and enhanced by hands-on contact with the published work of their precursors and those-who-walked-these-paths-before. Though they would only be able to spend a few minutes at best scanning the books, it was still hands-on, and I think that's vital.

    Soooooo, I kept the slide show to a minimum (about ten slides) and instead platformed the class session around hands-on scrutiny of relevent books throughout the lecture. The new layout of the classroom -- a U-shaped looping of desks, with the open area naturally facing the instructor's lair (and slide/projection screen) -- meant my determination to find two samples of each key publishing landmark was worthwhile: I could hand each row a copy of the relevent publication to look at and pass down, looping back up to my end of the room.

    This required a quick trip south into Massachusetts to powwow for lunch with one of my best friends in the world, G. Michael Dobbs aka Mike Dobbs. Mike and I had hoped to get together in any case -- Mike had his own agenda, wanting to bounce around ideas relevent to his current book project -- and the timing was solid for either this week's or next week's class. Mike has been teaching at the college level for years (he has far, far more experience than I!), and he came to our lunch meeting armed for bear, much to the benefit of my CCS class.

    Between Mike's collection and my own, the students were able to check out a lot of goodies as we skipped like stones over water, touching on as many of the key 19th and early 20th Century comics landmarks as possible. My handouts put a quick overview of Rudolphe Toppfer's works into their hands (with a more expansive handout accessible for them to copy if they wished, and James came in to offer access to Comic Art #3's excellent illustrated article on Toppfer), along with two samples of Outcault's seminal Yellow Kid (October 1897 single panel and multi-panel offerings) and a photo of the first comics-derived movie star: Opper's Happy Hooligan as played by Vitagraph co-founder J. Stuart Blackton, circa 1897.

    Better yet, I had two copies of contemporary reprints of Wilhelm Busch's works (Max & Moritz, 1862-5, and a later lesser-known work The Adventures of a Bachelor from the 1870s); three dramatic examples of the Life-spawned books from 1905-1911 (two of Uncle Sam creator James Montgomery Flagg's pint-sized satiric hardcovers and one of Charles-Dana Gibson's gloriously oversized pen-and-ink collections); examples of the two dominant comic strip collection book formats from the early 1900s (Fisher's Mutt and Jeff, McManus's Bringing Up Father); the Penguin reprint of Frans Masereel's Passionate Journey; three of Milt Gross's jazz-era gems (first editions and reprints); and much more.

    Mike had thoughtfully offered, and suggested I include, examples of the late 1960s underground newspaper comix and comix inserts, including an original Air Pirates, which was indeed invaluable and instantly caught everyone's interest. These kinds of connect-the-dots-across-decades not only lend greater urgency to the earlier works that are the primary focus of a lecture like yesterday's -- it gives me an opportunity to touch upon how the pioneering work of prior generations may fuel the students' own work, an assertion that carries a bit more weight when one can spotlight (however briefly) a phenomenal cartoonist like Bobby London adapting the styles, kinetics and aesthetics of Segar and Herriman for his own work, and his own generation (thanks again, Mike!). I also steered them all to the strongest comic strips collections in the CCS library, and urged them to make time to sit down with the books and read some of the strips. Losing yourself in these marvelous early works is essential, and that's the best opportunity presently available here.

    All in all, I think it was a good session. Now to get to work on next week's session... covering the whole of post-1919 comic strip history in 2 1/2 hours.

    Hey, James, want to crash the party long enough to sing the praises of Roy Crane?
    _____

    If you don't check the comments posted on earlier blog posts, allow me to bring to your attention a significant followup to my Monday post on regional comics.

    This from one of the participants in the Brattleboro Museum & Art Center 24-Hour Comics Marathon of August, a gent who also teaches comics in Keene: Marek Bennett, who is an active member in the (hyper-)active Keene Comics Group (who had already sponsored their own 24-Hour Comics session a couple months before the Brattleboro event -- and most of 'em came to that one, too!).

    Steve --
    Amazing synchronicity! On this very day (September 19th 2005), my new weekly comics series launched in the Keene (NH) Sentinel. It's called Monadnock History Comics, and will be archived at my website,
  • here.

  • I'm aiming it towards teachers, and developing some curriculum to guide students in creating their own local history comics; I'll just post this announcement and let the project's website explain itself.
    -- Marek


    Thanks, Marek, and I for one will be visiting your site often!

    Marek's Monadnock History Comics are the relevent portion of the website, and I urge you to check 'em out
  • here.
  • History in the making, and a timely contemporary of the celebrated Texas History Movies I referred to on Monday.
    ____

    Yesterday afternoon, Robyn Chapman broke out fragile copies of an Alaskan newspaper her grandmother had edited throughout the 1960s and '70s. The paper serviced a tiny community a-way up North, and Robyn's grandmother had graced every issue with a regular page-two comic strip of her own creation. It was crude but effectively delineated, and judging from the look of it (the labored look of some panels, thickness of the line, and pasted-in typed word balloon text) guessed that Robyn's grandmama had been working at times with those stubborn mimeo stencils of yore -- a sort of carbon-like non-paper that had to be cut into with metal tools, which stymied any but the most simplified and labored illustration efforts. I used to work with those damned things in my elementary and junior-high school years (1960s), which jived with the dates on a couple of the newspapers Robyn was showing us... my heart goes out to her grandmother!

    Anyhoot, another cool example of regionalized comic strips, and a subject ripe for further research. Certain film archive and academic circles have embraced the preservation and study of home movies (16mm, 8mm, and Super 8) of prior generations, and this equitable turf in the comics medium is equally worthy of scrutiny and preservation.

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