Manga & the Japanese Comics Tradition

For this week, I read Phoenix: Karma vol. 4 by Osamu Tezuka. This graphic novel resonated with me in several different ways. My first reaction was surprise: nearly the first half of the book seemed to consist of the protagonist trotting around killing whoever he pleased regardless of who they were or his relationship to them [ex: he slays his wife part-way through the plot].However, things took a turn after he killed his wife and Tezuka introduced some valuable life lessons into the story. I was impressed that such eloquent themes evolved out of such a violent start, which added a deeper level of legitimacy to this genre for me.

But beyond these elements of the graphic novel, what struck me the most were the panel progressions that depicted a short amount of elapsed time, and focused on the images to explain the scene as opposed to words. Any words that were used were onomatopoeias, which retains a pictoral quality despite the inclusion of actual letters. A few examples of these progressions are shown below.

I think that I am attracted to theses kinds of sequences because of my roots as an illustrator. Although my interest of sequential work and the use of text in any art form has always been there and continues to grow, I am most impressed by smart design within pictures that do not rely on another form of language for the audience to respond.

Stereotype & the Ethics of Representation

After discussing stereotypes in class and reading American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Tang this week, I was reminded again of Scott McCloud's agrument of the icon. The importance of the icon is demonstrated most effectively in the context of stereotypes.

Because comics depend on immediacy in recognizing the content of each panel, comic artists often play on stereotypes to maintain that level of urgency in communication with readers. In Tang's novel, the character cousin Chin-kee is a perfect example of the embodiment of a stereotype. He introduces himself on page 48 in a single panel that spreads the whole page and exclaims "HARRO AMELLICA!" wearing a typical Asian garment, with his hands clasped together in front of his chest. Cousin Chin-kee's yellowy skin, slit eyes and flat looking nose also add to our impression of his character. Tang holds no barriers in conveying to the audience that Cousin Chin-kee is clearly of Asian descent, and his execution is highly effective.

Although Chin-kee's traits are iconic and the most effective way to communicate to readers, there is also the potential of Tang's creation of his character being offensive. As with discussion of any stereotype, the line is often thin between acceptable and attacking. This leads us to the question as to what methods are available for comics artists besides use of the stereotype? In other words, how would Tang pictorally demonstrate Cousin Chin-kee's race without giving him slit eyes, a distinct accent, etc? The most satisfying answer that I have come up with is that the use of stereotypes in comics is more or less inevitable, and the difference between okay and not lies within the context of the stereotype and to what degree it is taken.

As for Cousin Chin-kee's character, Tang pushed his mannerisms much farther than any other character in the novel, and displayed him in a comical way. Although it is not too far for me as a reader, I can easily see how some individuals may be left with a bad taste in their mouth because of Cousin Chin-kee.

Wordlessness

Throughout the semester I have been playing around with crating a few comics of my own. Here are some rough ideas I have come up with.

Maus

Art Spiegelman's Maus translated comics from a relatively narrow genure into a more literary one, which caused many more people to respond to this story than previous graphic novels. Maus's success is due to the fact that the story appeals to a broad spectrum of people beyond those who had been invested in comics up to the date of its publication. Characteristics that allow for Maus's popularity are the fact that the author closely incorporated his personal experience with the work, the iconic imagery that is used throughout, and the particularly humanistic nature of the dialogue.

Maus tells the story of Art Spiegelman gathering information about his parents' experience with the Holocaust, which lends itself seamlessly to artist vulnerability. It is often the case in the arts that the closer an artist is to their work emotionally, the more successful it is because that personal inner content is somehow translated directly to the audience who in turn responds more actively. Spiegelman addresses themes such as family and the importance of memories throughout--particularly in discussing his mother's suicide--which have a universal basis which stirs our inner human in one way or another. Because the themes that Maus depicts hold value in any human experience, the audience can become much more easily involved, and thus interested, in the happenings of the book.

The iconic nature of Maus also provides the audience with a strong base with which to connect to the story. Because there are no human characters in the book, each reader can more easily empathize with the personalities that Spiegelman illustrates. Fully developed humans as a means for conveying the plot would have placed this graphic novel among the array of literature that has already been created, and further alienated the audience. Specifically, the love story between Art's father and mother and the struggles it entails is general yet personal enough to evoke meaningful emotions. These feelings because they are two sweet looking mice as opposed to humans.

Although Maus contains purely animal characters, it retains a human quality through the dialogue which further connects the reader to the story. Art's father has a heavy accent due to his heritage, which is translated through the written speech within the panels. Art as the protagonist has distinct speech habits as well. Despite the fact that he does not have an accent like his fathers, the audience witnesses the development of his character regardless due to the casual nature of his words. His uninhibited exposure of his true personality lends to closer relationship with the audience and progresses the success of the novel as a whole. Overall, Spiegelman's effort in making the text unique and true to actual speech adds a deeper level of intimacy to Maus.

In conclusion, the elevated level at which the reader can connect with Maus is what makes it such a notable work in the world of comics. Spiegelman is unafraid to show his personal involvement with the piece, capitalizes on the benefits of iconography, and takes care to include many human details: all contributing to the holistic success of this piece of literature.

Underground: Mother's Oats

The experience of reading underground comics threw me into new territory in the world of comics, and art in general. Startling as it was, I found myself quite attracted to the selection I read not because of the subject matter, but the ideation and attitude surrounding it. The personal liberation that accompanies the creation of comics allows for complete inhibition in expression, particularly concerning subjects such as sex, drugs, and other obscenities that are otherwise taboo to mainstream culture.

Mother's Oats had parodies of advertisements filling pages before the comics that stood out to me as particularly entertaining because of their ruthlessness. One ad depicted two elderly people and stated "Getting old? Try LSD! I mean like what the hell? If you're that far gone why not?" This message signifies both the culturally defiant nature of underground comics and the adoption of drugs as an acceptable--perhaps even valuable--part of everyday life. I may respond to this idea positively because it is one that many of my dearest friends would be quick to advocate, but I also see great value in the openmindedness that it signifies. The uncensored tendencies of underground comics provides for a broad range of honest self expression, which I believe is the most valuable aspect of this genre.

Craig Thompson & Blankets

Craig Thompson's Blankets was a wonderful experience for me. I understand why there are varying opinions surrounding it, but I personally find it to be very impressive, and beautifully crafted.

Some of my favorite parts of the story were when Thompson recalled his experiences of sharing a bed with his younger brother. Thematically, his relationship with his brother represents his holistic struggle between submitting to the influences of his past and facing developing himself as he grown up independently. Craig also has similar conflicts concerning Raina, and his religion.

Often, Craig and his brother's experiences are cut short in some way by "reality," or facing adult expectations, which illustrates how he must ultimately defy dependency. Occasions which best represent this theme are when the boys create electric sparks with their bed sheets, pee on each other, and eventually get their own beds. For the first, the boys are disappointed when after sharing their exciting discovery with their parents, are told that it is not "little glittery sprites" in their bed, but merely static. Next, when their mother discovers the boys peeing on each other, Craig mentions that taking a shower to clean up rather than a bath signified an unspoken--and arguably unwanted--transition into adulthood. Lastly, after finally getting their own beds, the brothers end up sharing by choice, until "seeking refuge in each other's beds became completely inexcusable," which highlights the influence of outside pressures to grow out of childish behavior. As a whole, Craig's relationship with his brother is the most light hearted avenue of addressing individuality, a major theme in Blankets.

The Comic Book: Carl Barks

While reading for the forth week of class, Carl Barks' comics with Donald Duck were the most surprising to me. Although I grew up knowing Donald Duck's character, I had only watched the cartoons, and never read the comics. As a kid I found myself annoyed by Donald, mostly because of his voice but also his general manner of conducting himself. When it came down to my juvenile judgement, I always preferred other cartoons above Donald Duck.

However, I found that I did not have those hints of disgust while reading the comics. The Mad Chemist was one story that I read, and although Donald was still quite aloof, I found that it was enjoyable, and that the comics are much more appealing to me than the television cartoons. I think that this difference is due to the increased participation that is required of the audience in reading comics.

This characteristic relates the idea of audience participation with different kinds of media. With digital storytelling such as movies or television shows, the activity is external, and all that we have to do is ingest what is in front of us. Comics become much more personal because we fabricate the missing aspects of the story in our minds, which activates our imagination and increases our personal investment in the story. In other words, my experience with Donald Duck varied between the cartoons and comics because of the distinction between projected reality [comics] and physical reality [animation]. I believe that because of my imaginative nature, I am much more drawn to the internal activity that reading the Donald Duck comics allows as opposed to the forced imagery of animated stories.