Tagged: John Ostrander

Marc Alan Fishman: The Secret Origins of the Samurnauts

imagesEvery convention we attend, the same cadence occurs several times over.

“Sir! Miss! Can I tell you about our comic book?”

“Sure.”

“Awesome. It’s called the Samurnauts. It’s about a team of Samurai Astronauts, led by an immortal kung fu monkey, fighting zombie cyborg pirates in space!”

“Jeez! What were you on when you created that!?”

“…pie.”

And with that comes a wink and a nod from our potential customer. You see, they think we’re being coy. Here’s the kicker though – we’re not lying.

I make no qualms about why I make comic books. I am absolutely still a kid at my core. When I go to Wal-Mart or Target for sundries? I always walk through the toy aisle – and not for my son. My DVR is chock full of cartoons. Better than that? Matt and Kyle, my Unshaven Cohorts, are one in the same. When we Unshaven Lads take our show on the road, we fill literally hours of time discussing the minutiae of superheroes. We dissect the books we read, TV shows we watch, and of course… map out our own little corner of the great-and-powerful world of sequential fiction.

It really comes as no surprise to me why then we end up with a pitch as we do with the Samurnauts. It literally all started out at a Bakers Square – as most all of our creative jaunts do – just brainstorming. On one fateful occasion we came to discuss how we’d create the most marketable creation known to man. We pulled together the common threads of those cartoons and comics we loved so much growing up. The sage warrior/mentor of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. The color-coordinated weapon-driven team action adventure of the Power Rangers. And the villains? Well, we just piled on as many adjectives as we could until we felt we had something. And we laughed. Because to us, this was just a joke. A flight of fancy so that we could make a fake ad to take up space in the next issue, that would become a huge in-joke to our growing fan-base.

And then, after tackling horror, and R-rated super heroics… with a third issue to complete our first series in front of us… we came back to that shared pie-experience, and faux advertisement. The Samurnauts was simply too good to pass up. Not because we felt like parodying commercial crassness (like TMNT and the Power Rangers), but because we’d literally thrown our own nerd-gauntlet in front of ourselves. Our brainstorming produced a pitch so insane, that to not do it justice would be a sign that maybe we shouldn’t be making comics in the first place. And then folks? We did what we Unshavenauts do best. We created a world, and treated it with reverence.

We make comics because we can’t stop building worlds. It’s not enough to declare we have a kung fu monkey. We have to know that he practices Hou Quan. We have to vet out that his hou gun is formed from the cosmically irradiated metal of his shuttle craft. We have to know that he was launched as Albert V, the fifth monkey to be shot in space, secretly, in April of 1950. And yes, we even have to know that the worm hole he travelled through carried with it the chronal energies that made him intelligent and immortal. I make comics because it’s those insane details that make our comic worth reading. Beyond the hilarious pitch that sells it… our comic takes itself seriously. It’s really perhaps the only way we can say with a straight face that we needed only a few slices of pie to give birth to something so crazy.

And it’s that respect we pay, in building a universe from a silly set of adjectives, that earns us our keep on the convention floor. When your pitch is as insane as the Samurnauts, the customer-in-waiting could quickly determine if our zeal is merely style over substance. Upon flipping the book open and seeing fully painted pages opposite completely digitally drawn portions, it’s clear that our tongues may be firmly in cheek… but our hearts are on our sleeves. Just as those cartoons and comics of our youth took themselves seriously, we too employ the power of not forcing the wink on the audience. When they see that we start with the tropes – the lantern jawed leader, or the bad boy with a heart of gold – we don’t shy away from giving them a little depth to boot. And when they see that we’re willing to not only have a kung fu monkey on the cover, but we have a real back story, and a generation-spanning tale to tell? Well it’s clear that we owe Bakers Square a debt of gratitude.

My intent here is not to necessarily shill my product to you. You’ll note I’m not even mentioning Unshaven Comics’ website has a store where you can purchase the Samurnauts: Curse of the Dreadnuts #1. You’ll relish the fact that I’ve no need to mention we’ll be in Fort Wayne, Indiana on May 11th, or Detroit, Michigan on May 17th hawking our wares. At the beginning of this lil’ column, my only intent was to give you a glimpse inside the madness that is my collective mind with my bearded cohorts. Amidst the literally thousands of pitches we will hurl on convention floors this coming year… now you’ll appreciate it when we meet that knowing nod with a smirk of self-confidence.

“What were you on when you created that!?”

We’re on the best drug of all; a big toke of youth, and a friendship of 20 years.

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

Martha Thomases: History Comes And Goes

7726History happens every day. Every day changes the world.

Not every day gets written down in history books. Not every day is part of that pop quiz second period.

Usually, the battles get written down. We measure time in wars. The more death, the more important.

And yet, that’s not all there is to history. There are births and marriages and medical advances that allow women to give birth without dying from infections. There are music and art and dance. There are comic books and television shows and movies.

When I was a young history major in college (back when there was waaaay less history), some of the more interesting discussions we had were about how one defined history at all. It is a study of the past, of course, but what kind of study?

The field is enormous, of course, and allows all kinds of views. The one that most interests me is the question of how people lived their lives in other times and other places.

I like the stories.

This week, on AMC’s award-winning Mad Men, the story centered around an historical event that I actually remember, the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I was in high school at the time, my freshman year at boarding school in Connecticut, and mostly what I remember is feeling horrified (MLK inspired my early pacifism) and frustrated, because there was no way to find out what was going on up on that mountain.

The Mad Men cast had lots of reactions. Some were upset, some were scared for themselves, friends and family. Some were annoyed that events upstaged their plans. Some were awkward around the (very) few black people they knew. I believe all the reactions were authentic recreations of what people in that particular demographic niche felt at the time, although I’m not sure the proportions are correct. Still, it is history the way I like to see it, happening to people in real time.

There are lots of parallel stories in comics. The most famous is probably our own Denny O’Neil’s run on Green Lantern/Green Arrow, written about the real world, using super-heroes to articulate some of the different points of view in the day’s arguments. Another of my personal favorites is this story, in which Superman trusts President Kennedy with his secret identity. I read that comic when I was ten years old, and President Kennedy had just been shot.

It’s hard to imagine a story like this today, when things are so hyper-partisan. Looking at it now, I have an understanding of how different our national discourse was 50 years ago.

Another little bit of history that happened this week is the return of All My Children, now on the Internet (and also One Life to Live, but I don’t watch that). I don’t know how anyone can keep historical records in Pine Valley, when time doesn’t seem to move in a straight line. Apparently, five years have passed since we last saw our cast, but some characters are the same age, while some are a decade older. Just a few episodes in, and it’s thrilling how much I don’t care.

And the great philosopher, Howard Chaykin said, “Continuity is for geeks.”

SATURDAY: Marc Alan Fishman

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

 

Marc Alan Fishman: Oh My God, I Like Drawing Again!

Drawing HandsA funny thing about Unshaven Comics: at the conventions I have always felt out of place. Kyle over the years has become a one man sales force. Matt? A commission-churning machine. Me? I used to laugh as say “I’m in marketing.” Mainly because like everyone in marketing… it meant “doing everything that isn’t actually selling.” I networked with other professionals. I people-watched. I tallied our money, made change, and added polite conversation when the paying customers wanted to chat (and Kyle, in complete shock to them, only wanted their money…The cur!). And then, as is his way… Matt threw down a gauntlet.

“Dude. Just draw something.”

On paper? Without my computer? And Wacom? And the internet to guide me? And no digital references? What kind of hell was he inviting me to!? And, as a joke, I drew Domo-Kun. Domo, a Japanese TV mascot and popular-with-the-hipsters-and-kawaii-crowd character. Everyone at the table giggled and laughed. They egged me on to do more. I however looked at the scribbling and felt ashamed. I would not do another Domo for at least a year.

For those unfamiliar with my life story (because I ain’t good enough fer’ a Wikipedia entry like everyone else on this site…yet.), I do actually know how to draw undigitally. I majored in print making. I took years of life drawing. But the allure of the bells and whistles of Adobe’s Creative Suite was a siren’s song I could not fight. Shortly after receiving my BFA, I’d all but forgotten by pencils and pens. And by the time Unshaven Comics had formed… my tool box was built not of plastic, but of pixels. And with years of rust forming over my natural line—smoothed over by implausibly perfect vector lines and filters—my return to ‘original art’ was much like my foray into sequential art: done with my kicking and screaming all the way.

Until a few weeks ago.

While attending our first Gem City Comic Con in Columbus, I got an itch to produce Domos again. Perhaps it was because the show offered me little to do “marketing wise.” Perhaps it was a way to pass the time a bit. Perhaps it was kismet. I doubt it, but hey, it could be. This time, I really took my time. I slowed down, and paid attention to the details. I forced myself to remember those skills I’d long ditched for an Intuos. And then something really odd happened. Someone walked up and wanted to purchase one. And then another. And another. Call it a boost of confidence on the smallest scale, but it did wonders for me. With C2E2 going on as you read this… I figured I’d “come out of the closet” as a full blown commission-taking Domo-Maker. I’d offer to draw more… but the fans on our Facebook told me no.

To that point: I started posting up my Domos on our Facebook. Since doing it? We’ve gained 117 fans at the moment of me writing this. Far be it from me to doubt when the Internet tells me to do something. Of course by that account my next 4 articles will be about Star Trek, Pro Wrestling, and 2 slamming DC Comics. But I digress.

This week, I put down my digital pen, and vowed to fill up my “example book” of trading cards, as well as work on actual commissions asked of me prior to the show. In doing so, I’ve been prescient of a change within me. During time at the ole’ day-job, I’ve found myself scribbling in the margins. A fad I’d long dropped in Junior High School. As I drove about town on errands, I found myself yearning to get back to the board to draw, ink, and color. An e-mail declaring a “half price sale” at the local art supply shop was not immediately spammed and trashed. Yes indeed my friends. A latent love of mine has bubbled to the forefront of my life again.

My name is Marc Alan Fishman, and I can draw again.

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

Martha Thomases: Robert Morales

Robert Morales 2 I don’t even remember the first time I met Bob Morales.  We might have met when he was an intern at the Village Voice and I was a freelance writer, but I have no memory of that.  When I was publicity manager at DC Comics, he was always around.  As a writer and editor – for Reflex, for Publishers Weekly, for Vibe – he was an invaluable asset for me to exploit.

But he was so much more.

Bob was a world-class gossip.  If you read Bleeding Cool over the last 20 years, you’ve read one of Bob’s stories.  He would, occasionally, let me use him to snipe at someone who was annoying me, on the condition that Bob agreed the person in question deserved it (he always agreed).

Bob was a brilliant writer, of comics and of prose.  Most comics fans know him from his work on Captain America, but he was a brilliant critic, and an hilarious comedian.  He wanted to do an Elseworlds Batman story with Mark Twain as Batman, just so he could refer to “Twain Manor.”

Bob was connected.  He was editor and literary executor for writer Samuel R. Delany, and he helped put together the graphic novel Delany wrote, illustrated by Mia Wolff.  He helped me to get this interview with Harlan Ellison.  He talked about working with Neil Gaiman on packaging a line of public-domain novels.  He knew everyone in science fiction.  He knew everyone in hip-hop.

Bob was vicious.  If you ever crossed him (and didn’t try to correct your mistake), you were on the list.  And if you were on the list, he would do everything he could to destroy you.  Because he was so connected, that meant a lot.  If he found out you were looking for a new job, he’d make sure the stories of your treachery reached human resources at your hoped-for employer.

And yet …

Bob was a pussycat.  If you were his friend, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you, as Heidi describes in this memory.  He always called you on your birthday.  He called all his friends who were moms on Mothers Day, and all his friends who were dads on Fathers Day.  He called me on every Jewish holiday.  He was thoughtful in ways that were unpredictable and touching.

Bob was my family.  He babysat for my son, and told me stories about my son’s other life, when he was his own person and not just my kid.  He introduced me to the woman who became not only one of my best friends, but also my son’s West Coast mom.  He stayed in my apartment when we went out of town so the cats wouldn’t have to be alone.  Quite often – almost always – some horrible mechanical event would occur in my building, and he would deal with it.

This is from Alan Moore (slightly edited), sent to be read at Bob’s funeral.

“I’m going to miss the savvy New York creak his conversation had as much as I will surely miss his writing; the commitment, insight and rare passion that he brought to every story, ever feature, every line. One of the comic field’s conspicuously rare voices of colour, he was also one of its most gifted and original contemporary writers. As a genuine creator of integrity, inevitably he came into conflict with an industry that much prefers a bland subservience in its employees to the fierce, ungovernable talent of an actual artist who has something deeply felt to say and does not care to compromise a work which he or she believes in…Moving with no apparent effort between his extraordinarily diverse realms of endeavour, Bob was like a human cultural adhesive that connected up a vast cobweb of people who, in every probability, would never have been introduced to one another save through him. One of the last authentic hipsters, he was sharp, astute, and very, very funny. If I’m honest it might be his anecdotes that I’ll miss most of all, the unexpected courtesy and deference extended to him by a crowd of strangers at a party whom, it transpired, had been informed Bob was a Puerto Rican mafia prince… Robert Morales had a fine and blazing life, a side or two of classic vinyl that I’m convinced will replay unendingly, just as I entirely expect to pick the ’phone up for an interview with Vibe, one day back in the hectic1980s, and commence a long, sweet friendship full of warmth and great ideas and lots of memorable laughs.  So long for now, Bob, from me and Melinda, and I’m looking forward to enjoying that mafia anecdote again.

The last time I saw Bob was on Saturday, April 13.  He’d been taking care of my cat while I was in Japan, and while I was gone he came down with a stomach flu.  He swore he was over it, but he insisted on doing the laundry before he left.  While we waited on the machines, we watched Rock of Ages on HBO, agreeing that Mary J. Blige should have been the main story, and that Catherine Zeta-Jones looked like Marie Osmond.

When he left, he said he was glad he could help me get away for a real vacation.  I think –  I hope – I told him I loved him.  On Thursday, I got the call that he had died.

Bob was a talker.  He’d call and say, “Hey, got a minute?” and you’d be on the phone for an hour, minimum.  I don’t know what I’m going to do with all this new free time, but it won’t be nearly as much fun, nor as valuable, as what I did with Bob.

SATURDAY: Marc Alan Fishman

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

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Marc Alan Fishman: An Open Letter To Bob Wayne

100_5476Dear Bob,

For as long as I’d been a stalwart attendee at the DC Nation Panel (or whatever you wanted to call it in yesteryear) wherein you and Danny D would layout the next quarter or two of books… you would always tell the crowd that “you vote with your dollars.” Or in other words… if there’s a character we’d want to see or not want to see in the pages of our favorite books, we need only buy or not buy material with them in it. For a long time, this was a satisfactory response for many of my quibbles with the direction of my then favorite comic book publisher. But as I sat this evening – stroking my beard as I do when I contemplate nerd life – I realize that this ‘line’ isn’t good enough anymore.

Perhaps in the 90s, prior to the world adopting the internet as the premium instant communication medium, voting with dollars was easier to swallow. The concept is sound. You like something, you throw money at it. The company who put it out gets richer, and spends its new found riches on making that thing again. Tada!

But, Bobbo, it’s 2013. We no longer vote with just money. We vote with our data. Our views. Our shares. Our opinions. It all adds up to a visceral tableau of reach. It’s how a company like Facebook became a billion dollar entity in the same amount of time it took you to reboot the universe. And while you could end up like Marvel – who probably could care less if their comics tank so long as their movies keep Mickey swimming in dough – your films are basically at break even right now. But I digress. Let’s only concern ourselves specifically to the books, and your knee-jerk retort.

At 31, I am simply not wise enough to connect the dots. I pray you help me. If I purchase an issue of Swamp Thing, and I loathe it, how has my money ‘voted’? I could then choose to not purchase the next issue of the book, but if you’ve changed creative teams (something you tend to like to do often), I’m apt to at least give it a try. Perhaps I’m not indicative of the average comic purchaser. More likely though? I absolutely am. Because as you’ll note above: I am a man of 2013. When I read a terrible issue of Swamp Thing? I tweet about it. I update my facebook about it. I create a vine video of me using the issue to clean up my son’s dinner disaster. And when I review it on MichaelDavisWorld, or ComicMix? I tell people that “I’ll remain on the series, to see where it goes, but I don’t have high hope.” And does that help or hurt your business?

Can you see the issue? Voting with just money doesn’t add up. As it stands, thanks to Diamond Previews and the Internet at large, much of your fan base is spoken for long before an issue hit the stands. And once a book makes it that far? The blogosphere/message boards help cement public opinion before your creators are hitting the bricks due to “creative differences.” The truth, Bob, is that comic readership remains largely “older” than you may want to believe. And the fact is we scour the interwebs day in and day out practically begging our favorite entertainment facilitators to listen to us. Now, we don’t get it right all the time… but I don’t blame the masses for formulating an asinine opinion now and again. I do blame the multi-billion companies that choose not to vet those opinions and marry them with spin doctors who know how to read contextually instead of literally.

In simpler terms: we vote with our voices. And you and DC editorial continue to choose to jam your thumbs in your ears while we grow hoarse. Your creators are out on the internet telling the truth everyday. Their fans grow legion, and only then do you backpedal. Last month the top 10 comics (in terms of sales; the language you speak)… only 3 were DC titles. You may think the forthcoming Trinity War will shift that around. It’ll boost sales for sure. And it may lure you into that trap that thinks we’re voting with our dollars. I sense I may be repeating myself. To be a jerk about it? You’re old. You’re hearing isn’t what it used to be. It’s time to look towards the future.

Hiring your C-Level staff to write your books, when there are literally tons of talented independent ones beating down your door? Promising creative control only to smash it into the ground before ink can even hit paper? Canceling titles, moving teams, and all the while watching only the bottom line? I vote no to all of the above.

It’s not how the world works anymore. If you want to fight Mickey Mouse anytime soon… you’ll have to look at more than the receipts coming in. You’ll have to look your fans in the eyes, and open your ears to what they’re saying. The will of the people, and the leap of faith to trust your talent is the way comics are succeeding in the marketplace.

And that Bob… you can take to the bank.

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

 

Martha Thomases: Transgender Mindbender?

Thomases Art 130419While I was out of the country, there was apparently a media kerfuffle about the introduction of a transgender character in the pages of Gail Simone’s Batgirl. There were stories in the LGBT press, in USA Today, and on comics sites (here) (and here too).

A lot of these stories said that this was the first transgender character to appear in a mainstream comic, and I don’t think that’s true. There was a transgendered character in Mike Barr and Brian Bolland’s Camelot 3000, published by DC. The lead in Milestone’s Deathwish from the 1990s was transgendered, and that book was distributed by DC, which to my mind makes it mainstream. It was also quite a beautiful mini-series, and I really can’t recommend it highly enough. There were also several transgender characters in various Vertigo series.

However, I’ll accept that these were seen by fewer people than a Batbook.

The reaction by the audience for these books has, for the most part, been better than I predicted. Relatively few people are calling it a “publicity stunt,” and those who do seem to not understand what a publicity stunt actually is. For example, I seriously doubt that DC’s publicist went to Gail Simone and asked her to introduce a transgendered character.

When I was DC’s publicist, I would have been fired for trying to influence a storyline. The closest I came was suggesting to Neil Gaiman that he might enjoy the chance to do a public service comic about HIV. And even then, there were lots and lots of corporate hoops through which I had to jump, not because of any political controversy but because of a corporate culture that respected the separation of editorial and marketing.

And then there are the people who get defensive. For example, in the second article to which I linked above, there is this in the comments thread:

• I think all DC characters should become lesbians,gay and transgendered.

• Why?

• Because the majority of DC’s audience is.

• Mainstream America stopped reading DC comic books a long time ago. Respectfully, “The Amazing Stam,” Make Mine Marvel!

There are so many things wrong with this. For one thing, I don’t think Marvel’s audience is significantly larger than DC’s, and, in fact, I suspect there is a tremendous amount of overlap. For another, there are transgender characters on television shows like Glee, which have a larger audience than DC and Marvel combined. And, finally, it is disturbing that in 2013, this moron still thinks it is an insult to suggest that DC’s audience is queer.

Whenever a character is introduced who is not a straight, white Christian male, there is inevitably someone who complains that this is done because the creative team is being “PC.” It is impossible for these critics to imagine that creators could find diversity interesting in and of itself, or want to reflect the world in which they live. Perhaps the creators want to challenge themselves to imagine different ways of being human. I never hear anyone complain that someone who writes stories about straight, white Christian people is pushing a political agenda.

Because I’m still jet-lagged, I haven’t read Batgirl #19 yet, as I write this. I plan to get it this week, when I go to Forbidden Planet for my regular fix.

I hope it’s not sold out.

SATURDAY: Marc Alan Fishman

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

 

Mindy Newell: Baby’s First Footprints

Newell Art 130415Friday was a miserable day in the New York City metropolitan area. Slashing rain, blustery winds, and c-c-c-cold. It was a day made for staying in your pajamas and just vegging out in front of the TV, watching The Dick Van Dyke Show and I Love Lucy on TVLand, popping in DVDs of the original Dallas (nobody has ever played the villain we hate to love – but do – better than the late, marvelous, wonderful Larry Hagman as J.R. Ewing), and eating too much of stuff that is bad for you, potato chips being my particular poison.

So what was I doing, getting up at 6 AM so that by 8:30 I could be walking with Alixandra and Jeff to the PATH station to take the train into the city? Why was I fretting that Alix wasn’t dressed warmly enough and that her hair was wet? After all, the woman is 33, old enough to deal with inclement weather on her own. Why was I feeling sorry for Jeff, who was struggling with an umbrella that threatened to either lift him into the sky like Mary Poppins or poke his eyes out? After all, Jeff is a Ph.D and a college professor and certainly wise enough to know that an umbrella turning inside out is the last thing you need on a windy, rainy early April day.

We were on our way to Alixandra’s third sonogram appointment.

No, nothing is wrong with my daughter.

The complete opposite.

I’m going to be a grandma!!!!!

So nice to be able to tell you all some good news this week.

I’ve actually known since the beginning of February, when I sat on the first sonogram, which Alix and Jeff* had placed on the backseat of the car for me to find. (We were on the way down to see my parents.) I said, “Oh, I’m sitting on something,” and fished it out from underneath my ass, realized it was some kind of photo, and tried to hand to Alix in the front seat, saying “I don’t think I creased it,” while my daughter and her husband cracked up.

“You’re such a dodo,” said Alix. “Look at it.”

I did. And what was my reaction?

Frankly, it didn’t register for a moment.

Then I said…

“Holy cow! Is this what I think it is? Is it real?”

Which only made them laugh harder.

Me, too.

A little while ago, Jeff came by so that we could exchange sunglasses – I was at their house last night, and inadvertently went home with Alix’s pair of shades. We chatted, and then Jeff asked me about the column, and I said, “don’t talk to me about it, I don’t have a fucking clue what to write about.” Yeah, yeah, I know, nice way for a soon-to-be grandma to talk, but hey, the kid’s gonna have to get used to me. (Only kidding, I will be toning down my use of colorful language around the child, at least until he or she is three months.)

He said, “Write about the baby’s first footprints,” which is what I said at the hospital when Alix and Jeff were given a picture of the baby’s…well, first footprints. (So tiny, and, yes, all ten toes are there.)

“But it has to be comics-related.”

“Oh, well…”

“Unless you think of sonograms like a graphic novel.”

“There you go.”

And you ask where writers get their ideas.

John Ostrander has written in his column here at ComicMix several columns (and wonderful columns they are!) about the art of writing, of plot building and character development. Well, if you think about it, a sonogram is a story arc – complete with pictures! – that begins with a something that looks like a walnut – Alix’s words, not mine – and over a nine month period, follows the walnut’s journey, or metamorphosis, into full-fledged “babyhood.” You can even imagine the little walnut – I think I have stumbled upon a nickname for my grandchild, in the same way Pa Ingalls called Laura “half-pint” – quoting from Joseph Campbell’s Hero With A Thousand Faces as he or she tries to put into words that will make sense to us who have forgotten what’s it’s like grow from a clump of cells into a sentient being…

“I had to climb a mountain. There were all kinds of obstacles in the way. I had now to jump over a ditch, now to get over a hedge…”

Or, to misquote Shakespeare…“All the world’s a page, And all the men and women merely characters…”

Alix and Jeff, you didn’t know you were authors, did you?

Just don’t call me Bubby.

*Alixandra Gould and Jeffrey Gonzalez are expecting their first child at the end of September. A Libra! He or she will need some balance with a bubby like me!

TUESDAY MORNING: Emily S. Whitten

TUESDAY AFTERNOON: Michael Davis

 

Marc Alan Fishman: Merchenstein

 

Fishman Art 130413With the mighty C2E2 upon me and my li’l company, we were at an odd impasse. Due largely to biting off more than we could chew – an new issue of the Samurnauts containing a transforming motorcycle exo-suit, zombie cyborg pirates with jetpacks, steampunk Samurnauts, and an attack on the Crystal Palace of the 19th century World’s Fair – it would seem Unshaven Comics would hit a con floor without a new book to pimp. Now, working in our favor is the fact that C2E2 is a huge show, and last year, we did not have Curse of the Dreadnuts #1 (which we’ve had only since August of last year). So, at very least, for the folks who haven’t caught us elsewhere, there’s still something new to be had.

But what about all those who have seen us?

Well, at our weekly Unshaven meeting, I uttered words I truly never thought I’d utter. “Boys… it’s time we sold merch.” You could practically hear the thunder clap in the background. Kyle started crying. Matt bit his lower lip, and balled up a heavy fist… a stoic grimace crawled across his embittered maw.

For a good long time, Unshaven Comics was about one thing: original comic books. While yes, we have custom t-shirts (which we don’t stock or hock willy-nilly), and yes, our first few cons had us pelting the crowds with packed-in stickers… we’ve never been much for outlaying a table chock full of non-comic bric-a-brac. Not that we have anything against those that do, mind you. Simply put, we have always felt as a company that our best foot forward was, is, and will always be the comics themselves.

This year however, we have a new goal in mind. Money. And lots of it.

Not for nefarious purposes mind you. Our big goal is to get to Valhalla next year. Or as it’s more commonly known… San Diego Comic Con. And for three Chicago boys to get out west (with our very awesome wives) to party with Michael Davis? It takes scratch. And now, we’re back to the topic at hand. Our master plan? Expand our empire beyond the shores of books, to offer a myriad of crap that might appeal to our slowly growing fan base. I write this to you, not in hopes of shilling mind you; I write it because it’s a leap of faith for a small business owner trying to make sense of group of people I claim to belong to.

Comic Cons have slowly grown to appeal to a wide berth of those who would claim themselves nerd. And while my first convention was peppered with a retired wrestler, D-list sci-fi celebrity, or some sundry less-than-comic-related minutiae, now it’s simply par for the course to include it all. And with that expansion has grown a fan-base that is not driven by comic book lovers alone. As Unshaven Comics continued to add shows to our yearly calendar, we’ve come to note that it’s the expanded “non-comic fan” that is coming to our table. Beyond Kyle’s vaudevillian show to get people to stop, our pitch for the Samurnauts has slowly showed us that the appeal may travel beyond the boarders of the panel.

The Samurnauts as a concept was built, tongue firmly in cheek, to be merchandisable. Given it’s roots in our childhood – one built by intellectual properties that started out as toys – we thought it’d be a hoot to pay homage with a series that took itself serious even if we couldn’t pitch it without a smirk. And every show we went to, came with it the crack of the crowd. “Where’s the posters? The stickers? The tee-shirts?” We’d scoff, smile, and sell them the book. Faced now with the notion they’ll say “I have it. So now what?” we might as well let them leave with a bag full of Samurnik-naks. No?

For all intents and purposes, this is an experiment. The sundries we plan to offer are all custom designed. They are lovingly made. They are produced with vendors who have a passion for their products. In other words? We’ve found people who love their sticker/buttons/posters/tee-shirts as much as we love our comic books. If people buy them? All the better. If they don’t? We’ll have a ton of great pack-ins when the next issue hits the con floor. See you there. Bring a few bucks.

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Martha Thomases’ Japan

Our columnist Martha Thomases has spent the past two weeks in Japan with her son, Arthur Tebbel. By all reports, they’ve had a swell time. Here’s some of it, in her own words and pictures:

m1Kyoto is a city I have always wanted to visit.  The traditional Capitol of Japan is known for its beauty and history, its cultural importance. Naturally, the first place I went when we arrived was the Kyoto International Manga museum. The building, a former elementary school, has a collection of more than 300,000 volumes, as well as a great deal of original art.  In addition to the permanent collection, there are special shows as well. This is the current show.  Not really graphic story, but an assortment of panels by international artists.  I am embarrassed to say that the only name I recognized was Mike Mignola.m2

 

Everywhere you look, there are books.  The shelves on the walls are higher than you could possibly reach.

 

m3The permanent exhibition shows the history and techniques of the form.  This, I believe, is the “Biff! Bam! Pow! Comics Aren’t Just for Kids!” of Japan.

 

Here is some original art, I think.  Really pretty stuff.m4

 

They consider cosplay to be part of manga.  This is a current exhibit linking these two powerful cultural exports.

m5

 

SATURDAY: Marc Alan Fishman

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

 

 

Mindy Newell: Life…

Newell Art 130408Last week’s column didn’t happen because I received a phone call at about 10 A.M. last Sunday from my mom. My dad was having another “episode,” his third. Meaning his brain was short-circuiting once more. It’s called “complex partial seizure disorder,” for the medically less-literate out there.

No one really knows why this is happening to him; before this started last Christmas Eve, he was in remarkable health for a man of 90. The only drug he took on a regular basis was one of the statins –anti-cholesterol drugs – and that was on a preventative basis. His blood pressure runs about 110/70, his heart rate about 65; his only major medical problem has been the deterioration of his eyesight because of macular degeneration and he was responding remarkably well to the treatment. Yes, he had had prostate cancer, but that was 30 years ago, and when his Prostate Specific Antigen (PSA) level rose, he started the androgen deprivation therapy and it dropped to 0.003 or something, i.e., normal.

So this week once again my dad lay in a bed in the ICU at Cooper University Hospital – big kudos to the staff there!!! – only this time he was intubated because the ambulance didn’t take my mom with them and I was driving like a bat out of hell down the NJ Turnpike and my brother (an MD at “the Coop”) was vacationing on Puerto Rico so there was no one to tell the trauma team that my dad is DNR and the protocol when a patient comes in having seizures is to intubate to ensure a patent airway.

Yesterday, exactly one week later, Dad woke up again. He was extubated this morning. He’s very weak, but he knew where he was, and he knew all of us. He also ate ice chips, a cup of Haagen-Dazs vanilla ice cream, Jello, and a ¾ of a bowl of chicken broth. The plan is to get him out of bed tomorrow. We’re going to take it from there.

So driving home I thought about my dad and this column and I thought about the portrayal of infirmity and illness in the super hero world. I had plenty of time because I again got stuck driving north on the Turnpike between Exit 7 and Exit 8A – a stretch of about 21 miles – in bumper-to-bumper, crawling traffic. It’s a section of the iconic NJ Turnpike that has been undergoing reconstruction for the last three years or so, which makes it prone for Delays Ahead: Be Prepared To Stop alerts, and I swear I think people slam on their brakes just to read the signs. What is it about one fender-bender that causes miles and miles of back-up?

Anyway…

The first picture in my mind was of Silver Age Superman gasping and choking and weakened as the radiation from Kryptonite, usually held or manipulated by Lex Luthor – poisoned him, finally turning him as green as the Wicked Witch of the West, indicating that death was near, just in a few panels. Kryptonite worked fast, unlike what happens to ordinary humans when exposed to radiation. Ordinary humans, exposed to radiation, don’t even feel it at first. The amount of time between exposure and the first signs and symptoms depends on the amount of radiation that has been absorbed. The first thing that usually happens is nausea and vomiting; headache and fever can also occur. After that, an individual with radiation sickness can have a period of remission, in which there is no apparent illness and the individual feels fine. Then the more serious problems start: hair loss, weakness, dizziness, bloody stools and vomit, weight loss, low blood pressure, fucked-up blood counts, cancer….a slow, painful, and debilitating death.

I guess Superman puking and having bloody diarrhea and going bald, getting infections and cancer and dying a slow, painful, and debilitating death wouldn’t have gotten past the Comic Code Authority back in the day.

Barbara Gordon, a.k.a. Batgirl, shot by the Joker in Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke (1988), was paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair – but through the talents of ComicMix’s own John Ostrander and his late, wonderful wife, Kim Yale, we watched Barbara go forward with her life: although initially (and realistically) portrayed with a reactive depression, Barbara comes to see that her life is not over. Gifted with a genius level IQ, a photographic memory, and possessing expert computer skills (including hacking) along with graduate training in library sciences, Barbara transforms herself in Oracle, an “information broker” to law enforcement agencies and the super-hero community. She also hires Richard Dragon (co-created by ComicMix’s own Denny O’Neil), a martial artist, to teach her combat and self-defense skills.

Gail Simone took the ball that John and Kim handed her and ran with it in Birds Of Prey…until, after DC’s 52 reboot, Oracle never existed and Barbara was mysteriously back on her feet. This – rightfully, im-not-so-ho – pissed off a lot of fans, because Barbara Gordon as Oracle was the preeminent role model for those living with disabilities. However, Gail has done a magnificent job with the post-Oracle Batgirl, allowing the character to go through PTSD secondary to her disability and recovery – although, as we all know, DC seemed to have a problem with that a few months ago. Luckily, DC recovered from that particular illness.

And now Power Girl, a.k.a. Kara Zor-L, a.k.a. Karen Starr, has breast cancer. Although I’m sure the intentions of the creative team are good and positive and totally above-board (and I do hope none of the creative team has had any kind of personal experience with breast cancer), somehow the cynic in me is smirking. Maybe because Power Girl has always been drawn with gi-normous bubble boobs that burst out of her costume like Mt. St. Helens blowing their tops? It’s like Sharon Tate’s character in The Valley Of The Dolls getting breast cancer. (Google or read the book or stream/rent the movie to get the reference.) It’s saying that the one thing that lifts (pun intended) Power Girl out of the crowd of super heroines are her mammary glands, so let’s mess with those.

It would have been more interesting to me if Sue Storm got breast cancer, or Lois Lane (isn’t she dead?), or even Wonder Woman.

Or what if Reed Richards, or Johnny Storm, or Bruce Wayne, or Hal Jordan, got breast cancer? Men get breast cancer, too, you know. More and more frequently, by the way.

I just hope the creative team does it research. And not just solve the problem of “how do we treat a woman who has breast cancer if she’s indestructible?”

That’s just so comic-bookey.

Breast cancer is real. People can end up in the ICU, hoping to get better, fighting to get better.

Just like my dad.

TUESDAY MORNING: Emily S. Whitten

TUESDAY AFTERNOON: Michael Davis

 

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