Foreign comics: Blacksad

Foreign comics are sometimes harder to approach, especially when in their original language. That's how I felt when clicking through the various links on the resource page. In the beginning, I just gawked at how beautifully some of them were illustrated. Blacksad was my favorite. I was immediately taken by the moody yet detailed watercolor backgrounds. The compositions of each panel were very dynamic, and I felt as if I were looking at a film. Something about its overall look and how each panel flowed to each panel was just so poetic.
I also found the character design to be both appealing and functional. The overall style skewed more realistic, but the animals were drawn with clean lines that made for a pleasing caricature. While the bodies were drawn to realistic human proportions, I thought it was great how the faces of the animals were more cartoony and read for clear emotions. I found Blacksad's use of animals also very clever. Though in a humanesque world, animal qualities were brought into the character emotion and personalities, depending on what species that character was. Being written in French, Blacksad passed the ultimate test for non-French speakers: the drawings were so clear that they could convey the emotions of each character, without even reading the text. Overall, form and function are executed perfectly for this film noir-like story.
After admiring the visuals for as long as I could, I tried my best to delve into the story. I had to type in the text of every blurb into google translate and turn it from French to English. It was very labor intensive, so I wasn't able to get very far. However, what I did manage to understand made for a story as well written as the characters were drawn. The pace of the story and the amount of information leaked to the reader made for a suspenseful read which I wish I could've completed. Having to stop and type in every piece of narrative blurb or dialogue made for a somewhat jarring experience that prevented me from getting lost in this comic. I will definitely try to find an English publication in the future so that I could properly enjoy this quality piece of work.

American Born Chinese and stereotyping.

This week we addressed stereotypes in comics. It is funny, as an animation student I was taught to follow tropes in order to make my audience understand a character. "If he's a heroic character, his torso should be in the shape of a V." "Your character should be slouched if you want convey..." "Her legs are too skinny to be athletic." It is because of this that I am on the fence about stereotypes in comics. I understand the practical use of these stereotypes in character design; the audience has no idea who your character is, and sometimes you don't have a lot of time to teach the audience who the character is, therefore stereotypes are a quick way to give your audience a sense of who that character is, so that you can move on to actually telling the story. For me "what is not okay" ultimately depends on what stereotype is being exploited. I can understand and justify certain physical attributes, such as "A strong man would have a V-shaped torso, because that makes sense if he has more muscle than the average joe. However if that characteristic is exaggerated to the point that it sticks out like a sore thumb, distracts you from the character's role and story, and makes the audience uncomfortable, that is where I would disapprove.

Though there have been instances where I was the victim of stereotypes, it didn't seem that they came from the visual representations of cartoons.
There have been representations of Asian people which didn't sit well with me, but I tried to overlook it so that I could continue with the overall story. For example, when I read "Tintin goes to Tibet," I wasn't very pleased with the way Herge illustrated some Asian characters. But they were only background characters that Tintin encountered, so I tried to forget how bothered I was. I also tried keeping in mind that Herge lived in a time where racism was a little more prevalent and accepted. Of course that doesn't justify his representations, but I have more understanding for why it is so.
American Born Chinese also featured some chapters where there was one character, "Chin-kee," who was the utmost unflattering portrayal of a Chinese person. However, this was done intentionally, for the main character was trying to separate himself from his heritage. He was embarrassed to be Chinese, and therefore this super stereotypical unflattering portrayal of an Asian character made sense for the narrative. I could not avoid the initial discomfort I felt every time I saw this character. However, understanding its purpose in the narrative helped a lot, and I actually think it was a very clever way to portray an American-born Chinese with identity issues.

As I had said with Maus, I suppose where I "draw the line" with racism and stereotypes in comics depends on the intention of the author and the context of the story and the world's status quo.

Maus

I first encountered the Maus books when I was in the fourth grade. My mother had bought Maus II for me by recommendation from a friend, and it was my first encounter with a graphic novel. Flipping through the book, I saw the linework was heavy, and was immediately intrigued by these dark comics, when I had been so used to reading Peanuts and Garfield. I flipped to the middle of the book out of curiousity and just started reading there. A Nazi Cat guard took the hat of a mouse and threw it on the ground. "Go get your hat," he said. The mouse ran to get his hat, and the SS guard shot him, telling a superior that he caught the mouse "running away." This scarred me for life, I closed the book and didn't touch it again. Never had my 10 year old eyes seen something that dark in content, much less in the form of comics. I was too scared to read it again, but a morbid curiosity still remained. The darkness of it was so fascinating to me.

I finally read Maus in high school. Long story short, it made me cry. I was so wrapped up in the story, which was so personal and specific and sincere.

Reading it again now, my feelings for the story remain the same. But reading a second time around, after three years of an art school education, I was able to look at Maus again not only in terms of its story but also in terms of its execution as a graphic novel. The heavy linework and graphic shapes and shading that intrigued me so much as a 10 year old still affects me today. It is so appropriate for the historic moment and story that it is telling. It is bold, dark, and almost intimidating. Sometimes the dark muddiness of certain underground comics distracts me, and when returning to read Maus, I found the same problem. With just black and white, and black shapes taking up the same amount of space as white, the focal points could sometimes get lost, were it not for the big white speech bubbles to somewhat guide your eye when it first meets the panel. While I found this disappointing, somehow it lent less as a detriment to the reading experience and more as an impression. This was the first time I picked up mouse in four years, since my junior year of high school. And yet I remember Maus for this aesthetic and how it lent to the impact of an already heartfelt story.

What I think is also interesting is the debate brought up from Spiegelman's use of animals to depict different races. On the one hand, it undeniably visually simplifies the relationships between races. Then there is the debate that Spiegelman's choice to choose certain animals for certain countries and basing them on stereotypes is in fact, accentuating and bringing back those stereotypes. I choose to not get into this debate. Whatever Spiegelman's intention was, if he thought deeply about what he was doing with the metaphor, or decided to simply play off the  clear and universal visual meaning of cat-and-mouse relationship, I believe his use of animals serves as an interesting commentary and thought game. The Holocaust was an event with stereotypes, racism and misunderstanding at its core. In the story itself, the different animals create a clear vehicle to depict racism. And even just touching on the question "is Spiegelman's use of animals stereotyping in itself," it brings you out of the story to think about the pure notion of stereotyping. If you don't think too deeply into why, but just think about the notion as is, I believe it further solidifies the theme of stereotyping, in a very general subconscious way.

Week 4: Tintin

In our introduction to the comic book, I chose to read "Tintin goes to Tibet." I first heard of Tintin when I was in the 4th grade, when it was library time and everyone would flock to the Tin tin shelf. I did not read it then, but when I read it now, I could see why Tin tin was so popular. Everything about the Tin tin series, whether design, characters, or story, is very appealing. Visually, Herge illustrates the comic linearally and cel-shades the color. It is bright, simple, and lends to a lot of visual clarity. Personally, I found it a relief after reading render-heavy comics that utilized lots of blacks and cross-hatch rendering.

Story-wise, Herge does well in writing a narrative that is full of story questions, therefore keeping readers engaged. Whether it was the main story question of "will Tintin find his friend alive?" or a small question such as "will the captain get beat up for yelling at that man," I could not pull myself away until I finished the whole book because I just had to know the answers. Story questions are essential to good storytelling, and it is what Little Nemo and many other early comics and movies lacked.

Week 3: Random readings

This week we got to read Windsor McCay's Little Nemo in Slumberland, along with a bunch of others from a list.

It's always hard for me to put myself in the perspective of the people who lived in the early 1900's, when comics were first getting published and nothing had been seen like them before. While reading Little Nemo, I can definitely see that the telling of the story is relatively unrefined in comparison to today's. It lacks any sort of story conflict or questions, it is more of just following this boy as he explores these interesting worlds. Though story-wise Little Nemo seems tame to me, the actual artwork blows me away. Winsor McCay is an exceptional artist. He knows how to draw the forms of characters in space extremely well, which is further proved by his fantastic animations. Other than his technical understanding of forms in space, his line work is stunning, Combined with color, McCay creates images that are just beautiful to look at. There is so much detail, and it slows you down from reading at a normal pace because you want to stop and spend time looking at each panel. For me, Little Nemo is less about getting entertained by some seat-gripping story and more about exploring this beautiful world alongside the title character.

I read a few of Rube Goldberg's comics. They were charming. I knew Rube Goldberg was a cartoonist, but really had known him for the infamous "Rube Goldberg machines." I was amused when I came across one strip titled "Our Simple Automatic Burgular Alarm" that actually featured a RUbe Goldberg contraption: a machine made out of random objects to catch a burgalar trying to enter your window. I was also curious about the one small element that Goldberg drew in the bottom right corner of all of his strips. It shows one character saying to another "Benny sent me," and at the bottom reads "send in a benny." I have no idea what this possibly intended to be or mean.

Understanding Comics

This week we read "Understanding Comics" by Scott McCloud, which discussed the definition of comics and the many aspects that make it a unique art form. McCloud stripped comics down to such a basic degree, and I discovered many things that were plain sight, but that I had not noticed the significance of before. One such moment was when McCloud discussed why comic artists use "cartoons" to illustrate their medium.
As a computer animation major, I have thought a lot about why people like watching cartoons so much. On one hand, I thought it was simply because it looked so appealing; it was a work of art that had entertainment value to it, and therefore a pleasure to look at. On the other hand, I also thought about how in relation to real life, cartoons are simple. And whether showing the happiness of a win, or the complex sadness of losing a loved one, we can connect to the emotional essence that they portray.
I was glad to see that I was a little in line with McCloud's analysis. While he didn't discuss the subjective nature of "appeal," McCloud touched on how simplifying a drawing from its realistic origin amplifies its core meaning. Eliminating other details actually allows us to focus on the important ones, and therefore pushing the clarity of the essential meaning in a way realism can never do.
McCloud also discussed how simplifying cartoons makes them more universal. If less specific to a particular person, it allows for more people to relate to that character. I like this idea of cartoons being able to bring people together in this way.
An idea I'm not too sure I agree with is McCloud's theory for why we like cartoons so much. He explains that when in conversation, we can see other people, and all of the realistic detail of their face. However, we never see our own faces, and therefore have only a vague perception of how we look in that moment. McCloud explains that the reason we like the simplified aesthetic of cartoon character is because it correlates to the nonspecific view we have of ourselves. Therefore whenever we a see a cartoon, we see ourselves. This is an interesting theory. I do recall from my AP psychology class that humans subconsciously look for faces (something McCloud also discusses.) Though logically it makes sense, my first impression whenever I think of McCloud's reasoning sits with me as being a bit of a stretch.

The Arrival

Prior to our first class, we read The Arrival, a wordless graphic narrative by Shaun Tan.

The Arrival doesn't look like your average comic. Aside from the soft, rendered style of the drawings, the boxes that make each storytelling image range from series of tiny squares to one that takes up the full page with a single illustration.

For the most part, the story is told in the squares. Open to a page, and you will see it perfectly fit and filled with tiny square images. However, it is this choice to compose the images like so that I believe makes the communication of this wordless narrative the most successful. The squares give a consistency, one less thing to be distracted by. Furthermore, the small scale of the squares push your focus into the image. Like a cinematic camera, Tan controlled the reader's eye and focused it on key props or changes in movement.

Another aspect that makes the narrative so clear is the body language of the characters. We have all felt emotions such as confusion, frustration, fear, sadness, and happiness. Tan beautifully chose key poses for his main character to express what he was feeling panel to panel.

Finally, what I felt Tan did to help readers follow the story was set a nice pace at which he transitioned action to action. For example, in the first two panels above, only his right arm makes a big movement, while the rest of his body leans in. You can clearly deduce the movement that transitioned him from upright and holding his hat, to leaning in with a hand moved up to his ear. The whole narrative is excellently done in this way, and never once did I feel lost from wondering what happened from one panel to another.