There is a heartbreaking/warming series where Thompson is meeting the French comics artist Blutch. They talk about muses and about drawing, and it culminates in Blutch saying ‘drawings are my private life’ and then Thompson looking at a series of 126 unpublished drawings Blutch made of his former girlfriend whilst she was reading. The phrases ‘drawing as breathing’ and ‘drawing as love’ are inked by Thompson near the top of his page, and that’s is so fitting because Carnet is filled with drawings that are full of love and the breath of life. It’s certainly the sweetest jewel in my summer’s treasure of comics.
So Craig Thompson can make you cry in your sleep. What about Seth? Seth is another of my very favourite comics artists, and his It’s A Good Life, If You Don’t Weaken is for sure up there with Blankets and Chris Ware’s Jimmy Corrigan as contender for greatest book ever. It’s a delight then to pick up his Clyde Fans Book 1. I’d already read the first instalment of this tale in a paperback comic I bought a couple of years ago in Brighton, but I’d lost track of it until I noticed this hardbacked edition in the same store on a return visit (hey, they don’t stock this kind of thing in Exeter you know it’s not geeky enough). Clyde Fans (Drawn and Quarterly) is an epic tale in the making, the story of a Canadian company (they make fans duh) and the two very different brothers who run it. Book 1 leaps between 1997 and 1957, and masterfully introduces the two main characters in beautifully eloquent and perfectly measured drawings and text. Seth is a master of controlled dialogue. Every word is carefully considered. There is never more said than needs saying, and the spaces, the stretches of silence are given as much, if not more weight than the words themselves. This is important. There are whole spreads where the narrative and the construction of the characters is drawn out literally in sequences of images, each with the same fluid brushwork and the same sombre two toned style. It’s a style that perfectly matches the mood of disappointment, loss and isolation that threads unflinchingly and unapologetically through the book. It’s hardly a cheery read, but it is captivating and hypnotic and utterly poetic.
Matt Kindt and Jason Hall’s Pistolwhip (Top Shelf), meanwhile, comes from a totally different angle. This is three years old now, and I just came across it, but it’s a great read nevertheless. Weaving a post-modern tale of mediated narrative versus ‘reality’, Pistolwhip references the radio obsessed America of the ‘30s / ‘40s and the Noir detective escapades of the likes of Marlowe and Spade. It’s a cracking, strange story that’s difficult at times to keep a track of (but that’s half the appeal) and Matt Kindt’s scratchy, edgy drawing style works perfectly in keeping things ticking along. There are two other titles by the same team, and I’m off to check those out as soon as possible.
Finally, there’s Empire. Published by the people behind the Nozone magazines in the US, this is a collection of art, comics and prose all investigating in some way the notion of, well, ‘empire’. Specifically there are a lot of American artists questioning their countries Empire building policies, and whilst some of it is pretty obvious stuff that barely raises a smile or an eyebrow (Ward Sutton’s ‘Paid Advertisment’ springs to mind as an example of that), and it’s not the kind of thing I’m particularly bothered about reading these days (I guess I’ve pretty much had it with politics) it’s nevertheless something that on the whole I’d rather have around than not. Reading it reminds me a bit of how I felt after watching Fahrenheit 9/11 in fact: Yes, I agree with nearly all that’s being said (in Empire’s case, a few naïve anarchist inflected points aside face it, anarchism is just silly) and yes, it’s important that these things are being said, but really, isn’t it all just people trading points of view and (sometimes) witty pieces of art with people who think and feel the same way anyway? Isn’t it a bit like political / cultural backslapping? And with such a media saturated and knowing society as we have, do we really believe that anything like some situationsist inspired posters, a bunch of comics and a series of photos of ATMs from across the world can have the kind of massive impact needed to effect the fundamental shift needed to make that society a better place?
So call me I’m cynical, and call me I’m old and jaded, but I can’t help but come away from Empire feeling that it’s naïve and carefully calculated in the same breath. And me, well I’ll take Craig Thompson’s pure and honest personal struggles, inner conflicts and ultimately optimistic and celebratory work over the likes of Empire any day.
© 2004 Alistair Fitchett