All Pulp congratulates Mark Maddox on being named the Rondo Artist of the Year by the Rondo Hatton Awards for his contribution to horror magazines and book covers such as Little Shoppe of Horrors, Undying Monsters, and Mad Scientist.
No stranger to pulp, Mark’s art has graced the covers and interiors of several New Pulp titles including the Captain Hazzard series, Sherlock Holmes, Our Man Flint, Kolchak The Night Stalker, Lance Star: Sky Ranger, and more.
New Pulp Author Bobby Nash was recently interviewed by Jessica Lay for her Jess Resides Here blog. They discuss everything from Bobby’s latest work, the art of making covers, and what types of books he likes to read.
Because I no longer profess to have original thoughts, I’ve taken a liking to riffing off a topic suggested by other ComicMix columnists. This week, the lucky Ms. Mindy Newell inspired my topic du jour. As I discussed last week, I’ve been a serious artist since high school. When I was faced with two years worth of assignments in a single school year, I was chained to the art table basically every night. My art-desk was just a dining room table, so for me the creative process started more with a mindset than a setting. An artist’s area is a second home, a place where creativity blooms and technical proficiency is honed with each successive piece. Nothing gets me into this place quicker than music.
I can point to the soundtrack of my high school days and how it lead me to the canvas… or Bristol board, or god knows what else I was drawing on. Discs in heavy rotation? Tonic’s self-titled debut was a biggie. Reel Big Fish’s Why Do They Rock So Hard was always a quick pick-me-up. Guster’s Lost and Gone Forever carried enough personal anthems that I ended up making a piece of art about it. And of course, my long-standing stalwarts – Barenaked Ladies and They Might Be Giants – were never far behind a studio session. When Matt started dating girls, leaving me wondering what the hell was wrong with me (Answer? No Beard.), I found solace in Marilyn Manson’s Antichrist Superstar and a 10-minute stint as a psuedo-goth. Oddly enough, being sad and angry all the time never worked out for the natural comedian in me. Thank Gordon for Barenaked Ladies.
During this time too, Matt and I (when he wasn’t kanoodling with the ladies) would have an occasional studio night. Generally his house. He’d bring down the boom box, plug it in, and we’d toss in some long running discs, and recreate the atmosphere cultivated in the art room at school. Dave Mathews and Tim Reynold’s Live at Luther College, Rage Against the Machine, a little Guster, and maybe Sting’s Mercury Falling… and the paint, pencils, and bonding of brothers began.
My taste in music was (and still is) pretty kooky to say the least. While I’m by no means a staunch follower of rap, metal, grunge, bluegrass, or soul music… I do have a handful of artists in all those genres that I follow methodically. Trust me, a view of my guilty pleasures list on Spotify is truly vomit-inducing to most. Unlike many of the fine folks writing here… I was right on the cusp of the shuffle generation. And while the first 18 years of my music-loving was dependent on the ‘Album,’ by college, I was picking and choosing tracks to enjoy (unless it was from a band I’d already found a love for). But I digress… This column is supposed to be about the correlation between my music and my art.
In college, I found the first medium to really speak to me – woodcut. A combination of graphic layout and meticulous process led me to an epiphany of sorts. At a piece of plywood, I found a zen-like state where I could just put my hands to a task, let music pour into my ears, and when the haze lifted, art was made. During this time, my CD player had long been ditched for a first generation iPod. All 4 GB were crammed to the brim with tracks gleaned from my own collection, and some acquired from the file-sharing sites that were all-too-popular at the time. My personal policy was to only appropriate music from artists I’d already owned something from… or tracks I liked enough to listen to repeatedly, but not support the band financially. Sorry, Dakota Moon… you’re not worth my buck.
Tunes of the time ranged from Eminem’s B-Sides, BNL’s Maroon, Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Californication and Red Hot Minute… to wuss rock from John Mayer and Ben Folds. All of them piped to my fingers, amidst a mountain of wood shavings. The art attached to this piece shows off the culmination of that work. 16 panels, 10 feet tall, 18 months worth of hard work, completed through 4,000 songs on continuous play.
Nowadays, I jump between online services that pump tunes to me on the cheap (at the trade-off of intermittent commercials), or a shuffling of my iTunes. Occasionally I’ll feel a twinge of nostalgia, and I’ll toss on Sting’s Ten Summoners Tales, and just go to town. Sadly, I’ve not done a woodcut since college… but have found a true love and calling in both graphic design, and comic book making. And nowadays when I’m not buried with freelance work, day job work, or baby and wife tending… I toss on some noise canceling headphones, crank up the shuffle, and start drawing my nights away.
I’ve noticed lately the fine columnists here at ComicMix are paying tribute to a lovely woman I wish I could have met. It got my wheels turning. I’ve done plenty of moaning, groaning, hyping and griping up until now… but I’ve never paid tribute to those who helped shape me as I am. The desire to tell you all about my family is tempting, but it might be more apropos to give some love to special someone who directly changed the course of my career (and all of the subsequent creative endeavors). But enough preamble, eh? I want to pay homage to an amazing educator and mentor… Dean Auriemma.
Mr. Auriemma, or just Mr. A, was my high school art teacher for my sophomore and senior year in high school. Unlike your stereotypical art educator you might think of, he taught those willing to learn that art is a scholarly endeavor as much as math or science. A bit of backstory: The “art track” at my high school was a true four year journey, meant to be taken chronologically, ultimately ending with A.P. (that’s Advanced Placement, or college level) Studio Art. Well, the art bug bit me a year late, so I ended up taking both the junior and senior level courses both in my senior year. It wasn’t unheard of (as I recall one other student joined me in this undertaking), but it was certainly challenging. But I digress.
Mr. A made art hard. For me, this was (and still is) the most exhilarating concept I’ve ever wrapped my head around. You see, I was a very good student. Took all honors classes. Graduated in the top 5% of my class (of over 600 students). I’d happily admit that I coasted throughout High School without sweating over tests, and grades, and memorization. Not that I didn’t work hard mind you, but no class outside of Mr. A’s A.P. Studio Art ever put me in my place quicker. Mr. A never pulled a punch.
During critiques, he would tell me that I couldn’t draw my way out of a paper bag. He said my artistic prowess could best be described as “Craposition”… a term so beloved by the class, we used it as the title to our class mix tape. Best of all? His words rang true, because they absolutely were. I sucked. Beyond the harsh words though, came true support. Mr. Auriemma took time with me to show me where my strengths were, how to hone (and hide) my weaknesses, and explore not only technical proficiency but conceptual development at the same time.
One fond memory that sticks in my craw even today were Mr. A’s dreaded Gallery Journal entries. He forced our class to go to galleries every month and truly look (and write about) art. He challenged us to critique accepted “masterpieces” instead of simply enjoying them. He deconstructed a world most simply adhere to accept. In short, he forced each and every one of his students to take an intellectual leap beyond “I like this.” Most important, when I spoke and wrote of my love of comic books, and that art form, Mr. A did not once scoff. He knew that masters like Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko, and the modern artists that inspired me like Alex Ross and Mike Mignola, should be studied as much as Renoir, Titian, or Bacon. All art was equal in his class, so long as you could apply the lessons he taught to them.
The best panels and issues of modern comic books utilize complex composition, juxtaposition of focal points, value balance, and harmony all to visually communicate what only a 1000 words might. Again, I can’t hit on this fact enough; where some art teachers hand you a canvas and a brush and tell you to let your mind go wild… Mr. Auriemma did it too, but forced you to use the skills and tools honed over time to produce more than whimsy and feelings.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Mr. A’s lesson plan. Tough love gave me the drive to do better. His “acceptance” was earned through hard work and dedication. It was a tribute to these abilities that drove so many of us alumni to trek back to the hallowed halls of Homewood-Flossmoor High just so we could show him what we were doing in college. Certainly when Unshaven Comics published its first graphic novel, I raced back to his class room to show that I’d learned to draw out of that paper bag. OK, I won’t lie. Matt drew the first book… I just colored, lettered, and co-wrote it. But like JD looking for that hug from Dr. Cox on Scrubs, I wanted that approving “Good job, buddy” like Courtney Love wants attention.
Not even a few years after I’d been away at college, Mr. Auriemma got his masters in Education, became a top-notch school administrator, and is still to this day (to the best of my knowledge) now a principal. I dare you to find another Art Teacher that took that path. I bet you find a bunch of paint-strained smocks, and some weed.
Suffice to say, Dean Auriemma instilled in me a drive and determination that exists to this day. In fact, I happily admit that my love of A.P. Studio Art was so great, Matt and I still meet every Friday to work on our art projects. We may have grown beards, got wives, had sons, and bought houses… but thanks to Mr. A, we’re still just two kids in class, hoping one day to make it in the business. And if this bit of brown-nosing doesn’t land me that damned ‘A’ I’ve been after… I don’t know what will.
One of the things I bemoan as a professional reviewer is the lack of graphic novels I’m sent to look at.Note I did say, “look at.”The fun of such material is that, when well done, it becomes both a literary and visual feast; a narrative told with both words and art.
The problem is that, even in our supposed enlightened times, most major publishers still do not appreciate or acknowledge graphic novels as legitimate and thus are not receptive to publishing them.Those pioneer publishers who do are few and far apart.Happily Tor Books is one of the leading pioneers in this acknowledgement and they deserve credit for not only publishing books such as the Foglios’ “Girl Genius” but also promoting them so heavily.
Since its inception as a webstrip many years ago, this manga inspired sci-fi steampunk comic about airships, monsters, half-humanoid beings and a magical talent called “the Spark,” has won three Hugo Awards and been nominated for both the Eisner & Eagle Awards; the best for American and British strips respectively.It is a grand, over-the-top tale that showcases a world where machines are looked upon with fear by the average citizen and those scientist who can master them considered heroes of mythic proportions.
Agatha Clay, an orphan college student in Transylvania, is being raised by her aunt and uncle and has no knowledge that she possesses the Spark.Her only clue being that she often awakens from deep sleeps in her uncle’s workshop surrounded by tools and bizarre, unfinished, “cranks.”These are robot-like inventions that come in all sizes and shapes with a variety of functions.Eventually, her secret ability begins to assert itself and she comes under the scrutiny of Baron Wulfenbach, one of the most powerful political scientist in all the world.He ultimately brings her aboard his city-size airship and there she meets an assortment of characters, both human and half-human, along with a talking cat with attitude and the Baron’s handsome young son, Gilgamesh.
The boy is keen enough to realize Agatha has the Spark and suspects her talents are greater than most others known to his father.At the same time, the great ship is coming other attack by an alien entity from another dimension and in the end, there is a climatic battle wherein Agatha, using her gifts consciously for the first time, helps Gilgamesh save the day.But not before she uncovers other mysteries of her past and her parents.In the end she is forced to steal an airship and along with her pal, the feisty talking cat, makes good her escape, thus ending the first part of her saga.
At 319 pages, “Agatha Awakens” is a whopping chunk of madcap, graphic fun and action galore.Although the first hundred pages display a roughness to the depiction of the characters, it is easy to reconcile this was the first year’s worth of pages and the artists were gradually beginning to know their characters.By the second hundred pages, the art settles into an easy, cartoony style that is part manga, without being overly exaggerated, and typical Saturday morning fare.I particularly liked the use of coloring, which has been redone for this collection.It shifts from the duotone and sepia when detailing earthbound city scenes and then explodes with a vibrant rainbow palette upon arriving at the giant airships that cruise majestically through the sky.
Agatha and her supporting cast of characters are fresh, original and fun.This beautifully produced hardcover is like nothing else I’ve read in graphic form and it truly impressed me a great deal.If you are a fan of American manga, sci-fi or steampunk, you are going to love “Girl Genius – Agatha Awakens.”Take my advice; get two copies, one for yourself and another for your pre-teen kids or grand kids. They’ll eat it up.
In February 2013, I will have the honor of curating a galley show called Milestones: African Americans in Comics. Pop Culture and Beyond. The show will held at the Geppi Entertainment Museum in Baltimore, Maryland.
It’s my goal to make this the most comprehensive showing of black comic and related content ever assembled.
The Geppi Museum is nothing short of fantastic and as mentioned I am indeed honored to be creating this show for them. The best of the best will be showcased… but that’s not what I’m writing about today. Today I’m looking for a few good artists.
A few good new artists.
Soon the process will begin to select the professional artists for the show. Some will be invited others will be asked to submit work for jury selection. Consider this my ComicMix reader jump start for any new artist out there who may want to submit work for the show before the official call for entries.
I want to showcase new creators who may not be published yet. The show will have a worldwide audience as it will be up for a year and the press coverage will be massive. The opening of the show will surely attract comics elite and powerful and will be a grand way for a new artist to have his or her work showcased.
The show is not just open to black creators. It’s a show about African-American impact in pop culture. I’m open to any art that features or has been influenced by the African-American experience.
To put it another way, the Black Panther was created by Jack Kirby and Stan Lee.
‘Nuff said.
I’m looking for creativity, excellence and above all voices with something to say.
In the months ahead, the Geppi Museum will be releasing information on submissions and updates on the show as it progressives.
If you can, try and see the show while it’s up. There will be punch and pie.
Hardly a day goes by without my asking myself “How did all this crappy art get published?”
Now, before all you upstarts get bent out of shape, please appreciate the fact that I’ve been asking this question since about the time Freedom 7 was launched. (Note to self: After gawking at Brian Bolland’s Blog, please don’t look at anybody’s comics art for at least three hours. You’re not giving them a chance.) The difference is, there are a hell of a lot more comic books being published these days. Whereas I think the comics medium beats out Sturgeon’s Law, there’s a hell of a lot of crappy art out there, and much of it is below what I consider to be professional standards.
Over my career I’ve spent a great deal of time evaluating newbie portfolios, and while I feel doing this at the larger, crowded conventions generally gives the young wannabe short shrift, like most geriatric editors I’ve developed a mental go-to list of comments that, if followed, will likely give direction to the newcomer. Since I’ve grown anti-social of late, I’ll share some of these points with you.
Stare at something other than the comics you grew up with. And don’t spend all that much time staring at comic books published before your birth – yeah, study the classics like Toth, Kubert, Kirby, Kane, Maneely, Wood, Adams, Barks and Toth, but learn from the great newspaper strip creators like Milton Caniff, Frank Robbins, Floyd Gottfriedson, Alex Raymond, and Frank Godwin. Spend some time gawking at the great illustrators like J.C. Leyendecker, Maxfield Parrish, Norman Rockwell, Howard Pyle, and NC Wyeth. Go to a few art museums. There is no more enjoyable way to pay your dues.
Get a large jar and label it “Photoshop Copy Machine.” Every time you use Photoshop or any other graphics program to copy your art so that you can use it later in lieu of drawing something new, put $20.00 in the jar. When you fill it up, donate the money to The Hero Alliance or CBLDF. The eye tires of the same old stuff, particularly when you repeat the same image within a few pages. Sometimes there is a solid storytelling reason to rerun your work within the same story, but like all dramatic effects these are few and far between and should only be used sparingly.
Get a smaller jar and label it “Son Of Photoshop Copy Machine.” Every time you use Photoshop or any other graphics program to copy somebody else’s art, put $10,000 in the jar. Then find some other fulfilling way to make a living. I suggest procuring a domino mask, a striped shirt, and a gun.
There’s an old adage that proclaims “color will save it.” More often than not, this statement is attributed to the late DC Comics production whiz Sol Harrison, who got his start as an engraver on Superman #1 and in his spare time did watercolors. Unfortunately, Sol was wrong. Color will not save bad art. Not even the most heavy-handed computer color. Bad art is bad art. Or, to be less subtle, shit stinks.
Go buy a copy of [[[Gray’s Anatomy]]]. Not the teevee show, silly, the book written and drawn by Henry Gray first published 154 years ago. Whereas the book has been updated frequently, the human body has not. I am not concerned with your religious predilection, but no matter which hoary thunderer or cosmic muffin you might worship, if you intend to draw the human figure for a living this is your new bible. I cannot stress this more highly.
Study storytelling. As the artist, you carry the burden of telling the story. You are not an illustrator illuminating somebody else’s story: you’re the person putting it across the plate. Your friend over there should be able to get a good sense of the story by looking at your unlettered original art. Go get Will Eisner’s Graphic Storytelling and Visual Narrative, and Will Eisner’s Comics and Sequential Art: Principles and Practices from the Legendary Cartoonist and Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics. Take these three books, add the aforementioned Gray’s Anatomy, and don’t pick up the pencil or the Wacom tablet until you have studied and thought about each and every word in these four books.
Do not stop drawing. Question your alleged need to watch television, play video games, associate with people, eat, and bathe. Each of these activities takes valuable time away from your perfecting your craft. Trust me; once you get an assignment with a deadline, you won’t have time to watch television, play video games, associate with people, eat, or bathe.
Don’t give up. A newbie comic book artist who had just blown a couple deadlines once told me “If I can’t do this, I might as well flip burgers.” Well, today this guy is not flipping burgers. He became a comic book writer.
Drawing comics is no different than any other vocation: you’ve got to learn your stuff. Don’t look at the worst people being published and say “I can do better than that.” We’ve got enough crap. Aim high and don’t jump into the water until you know you can swim to the other side.
Ian Randal Strock, publisher of SFScope, needs your help:
I know this is a long shot, but we seem to have no other options at this point. I’m looking for the current owner of a piece of art by George Barr. The painting was done as the cover of Weird Tales #328, Summer 2002. It’s an Egyptian motif. I’ve talked with the artist, and he’s given me permission to use it on a book I’m publishing, but he doesn’t have a copy I can work from, and doesn’t know who has the piece, so I’m trying to track it down.
We have faith in the ComicMix community– you guys probably have some ideas, yes? Add you leads in the comments.
TIPPIN’ HANCOCK’S HAT-Reviews of All Things Pulp by Tommy Hancock
BPRD: BEING HUMAN
Mike Mignola, John Arcudi, Scott Allie, et al
Dark Horse Comics
I’m a Hellboy Fan.Probably not as well read as most, but a fan nonetheless.Hellboy is a kind of visual Pulp that excites the senses for a variety of Pulp fans-Horror, mystery, fantasy, adventure, and on and on and on.Although the quality of stories has varied at times, one thing remains true.A Hellboy related Tale is never ever without weirdness and adventure.Never.
The same holds true for the stories found in ‘BPRD: Being Human.’There’s haunted woods, zombie plantation owners, werewolves, spirit eating demons, and that’s just the bad guys.Although Hellboy makes an appearance, this collection focuses on other members of the BPRD and each story ties very strongly into the title of the collection.
This book is about the aspects of humanity that some members of the BPRD feel like they don’t have, others feel like they don’t deserve them, and still others are desperate to have some sense of humanity.In that, the book hits home.Each story, there are four, clearly illustrates just how human the strange beings that work with or alongside the BPRD actually are and how maybe the humans around them could take lessons.
The art is stunning as usual.Creepy, under your skin, making you study the shadows to see what might jump out at you.Overall, the collection is solid.The werewolf story is probably my favorite as it conveys its point amongst a ton of action in a very few pages.TheRoger the Homunculus story started off strong, but didn’t really have a resolution that lived up to the beginning.The other two stories were usual fare from the Hellboy realm, which means they were pretty solid.
FOUR OUT OF FIVE TIPS OF THE HAT-The book made its point.And did it with spooky art and fairly strong storytelling.
John Severin, Eisner Hall of Fame winner and one of the last of the legendary EC artists, died Sunday in Denver, Colorado. He was 90.
Severin was among the greatest draftsmen of the EC crew. He was especially well known for his western comics and war comics, but worked across many genres, including a 45 year stint drawing for Cracked magazine, doing numerous parodies and creating the definitive version of the company mascot, janitor Sylvester P. Smythe.
In recent years he had continued to work, with his last new material coming from Dark Horse last year on Sir Edward Grey: Witchfinder.
His family has released a statement:
Internationally acclaimed illustrator-cartoonist, John Powers Severin (1921-2012), passed away Sunday, February 12, 2012 at his home in Denver, Colorado with his family by his side.
He was 90 years old.
Throughout his sixty plus year career in comic illustration and cartooning, Severin gained world-wide notoriety and is regarded by many fans, friends, historians, and colleagues as a truly distinctive and brilliant artist.
Long-time friend and former president and chairman of Marvel Comics, Stan Lee states, “He had an art style that was uniquely and distinctly his own.The minute you looked at his artwork you knew you were looking at a John Severin illustration; it could be no one else. Besides his inimitable style, there was a feeling of total authenticity to whatever he drew, whether it was a Western, a crime story, a superhero saga or a science fiction yarn. Not only was his penciling the very finest, but his inking, too, had a distinctive Severin touch that made every strip he rendered stand out like a winner”.
