Tagged: Unshaven Comics

Marc Alan Fishman: Crunch Time

Fishman Art 120727Here I sat, with my blank screen yelling profanity at me for not knowing what to bitch about this week. And like every piss-poor English student in high school, I’m opting to begin this week’s column with a “when I didn’t know what to write…” introduction. Well… When I didn’t know what to discuss this week – be it a lamenting on the newly announced Superman-Batman movie, going over both my desire and fear to attend SDCC, or finding another excuse to discuss why I’m seriously considering purchasing the Summer Slam Pay Per View E I opted instead to use a timely fallback. What’s on my art table right now?

Well, after learning that having a toddler running around in one’s life makes working on a comic less than easy, Unshaven Comics is finally rounding the bend on producing our next comic. The Samurnauts: Curse of the Dreadnuts #2 will end up encompassing about 200 man hours when it finally reaches a printer. As it stand as of this writing, we are amidst final coloring (on my half), final inking (on Matt’s half), and prepping to create the cover. In simpler terms? We’re screwed like non-white kids wearing hoodies in Florida. See, MOTU? I can be racially charged too!

By the time you gentle readers afix your eyes to my ramblings we will have essentially one week left with which to letter the book, finish the cover, and put it all together in time for our home show, Wizard World Chicago. And somewhere in there, we’ll have to be sure that we spelled things right, that the story makes sense, and most important… the book is leaps and bounds better than issue 1 without lessening the impact of said first issue. This is where and why Unshaven Comics exists, kiddos. We built our studio on passion. We take pride that the books that land on our table earn us fans, respect, and and a continual sense of determination to continue to create. And boy did we wish we’d only just started working, because ComicMix Pro Services sure coulda come in handy. Hey Mike, where’s my check for name dropping?

This passion is every reason why I’ve little to no doubt that over the next week or so, I personally will be working every evening well into the following morning. This passion is why I’ll gleefully pull all-nighters – live screen-casting via Google hangouts for the morbidly curious – in order to meet our printer’s deadline. This passion is what makes seeing a fan plunk down a fiver for my lil’ rag the best feeling in the world (short of everything having to do with my wife and son). This passion may never make me, Matt, Kyle, or our Samurnauts rich and famous… but it will remain our legacy without fail.

If Unshaven Comics ever had a mantra to live by it would be “doing what we do, one fan at a time.” We know that those who are lured by our whimpering and desperate eyes from behind our artist alley table, are likely to give us that chance to earn their fandom. With a book built not for profit margins, and licensing security, but for the enjoyment of sequential fiction, we know that we leave everything on the page. This is our crunch time, and I appreciate those that respect we who toil for our wares. Wish me luck, everyone.

And come August? Get ready for a book that features zombie-cyborg pirates with jetpacks, transforming motor-cycle super armor, steampunk warriors, metal tentacle pirate ships fighting giant robots, and an immortal kung-fu monkey in a spacesuit.

Back to the grind!

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

 

Marc Alan Fishman: Marctaku – A Study In Anime

Fishman Art 130713This past weekend, Unshaven Comics took a leap of faith. We attended our very first Anime Convention. To be honest, we had little expectation. The Samurnauts, while well-rooted in Sentairoots, isn’t Manga in any sense of the word. It’s pastiche. It’s homage. For those not initiated, it appears only to be tongue-in-cheek. But I digress.

We purchased a table at the third annual Anime Midwest show, now in the lovely Hyatt Hotel in Rosemont, Illinois. Considered perhaps to be the little brother to the now monumental A-Cen show from a few months back, we were unsure if the show would be heavily attended and how we would strike the fancy of a fan-base we as a creative unit are only marginally related to.

Oh, how surprised we were. But first, a bit of backstory.

Speaking only for myself, my relationship to the Japanese comic/movie/TV Show empire was one of tepid acceptance. Shortly after meeting Matt and Kyle in 6th grade, it was clear that I would need to get on the Manga train. By 8th grade, Kyle and his brother had a basement full of VHS tapes (both booted from Japanese TV, and purchased at Suncoast Video), and a near encyclopedic knowledge of dozens of series, both in print and on screen. Matt was a longtime fan of Guyver and Neon Genesis Evangelion as well as dozens of other giant robot animes. Just as when your girlfriend decides to be a vegetarian begets your becoming a vegetarian, so too did I find myself sampling several series from across the pond.

I found several that I genuinely loved. The gritty Angel Cop with its leather, boobs, and super psychics. Record of Lodos War, homage to Tolkien with a Japanese twist. Akira, of course. And a smattering of others. I found most Anime to be kindred spirits to the comic books and super heroes I held dear, but with a foreign (natch) and mature manner about itself. Sitting down to a marathon of Evangelion left me both emotionally drained and completely inspired.

Unlike American action, the Japanese love (even in animated form) to let action unfold without a shaking camera. They like to pepper stories with emotional breaks and pauses. Every so often they even let complete sequences go without dialogue, letting the artistry on screen do all the communicating necessary. Their stories tended to be more complex, and with more expansive universes (albeit rarely shared like the DCU or 616). In simplest terms? Manga and Anime represented to me a world and culture that could easily be obsessed over and beloved by a sect of nerd-culture. Me, perhaps, if only from afar.

We were told by many friends that Anime Shows tend to be “friendlier.” Upon entering the hotel, I immediately recognized why. Comic book fans share a love of a wide-berth medium. Anime fans tend to be closer knit. While there are just as many genres, styles, and sub-sub-cultures within the Otaku world, here I noted that the relative age of the fan was younger than I’d been used to seeing at comic-cons. The show itself was also more akin to what comic-cons used to be like. Here was a convention that was built in celebration of the medium, not just vapid promotion. The brunt of the show attendees were there to view episodes, attend panels, contests, discussions, and enjoy the company of their brethren. The dealer room we sat in was merely one small hall amongst several others. Not the star of the show, just another part of it.

It was perhaps this that made things so lucrative for us. With fans able to attend so many different things while at the convention, our little dealer room was there for them to explore and to discover. When we made our pitch, much like at comic-cons, we were met with laughter, and quizzical looks. But unlike comic shows, we rarely heard the all-too-common “I just got here, and I’m making some rounds. I may be back.” Instead, we were given a “yes!” or a very polite “no thank you.” Matt sold 10+ commissions. I sold a few Domos. It was, for all intents and purposes, one of the most profitable shows we’d ever attended.

Beyond simple dollars and cents though, I come out of the experience once again inspired. Here this group of fans still celebrate their medium more than they snark at it from a far. Here cosplayers dress less to impress and more to get hugs and high-fives. Here is a convention more attuned to the type of event I long for (and will see again first hand in Baltimore – which still stands as the most comic-booky con I’ve had the pleasure to attend). I tip my hat to the Otaku. Anime and Manga is a once forgotten love-like of mine that I think I’ll have to revisit. Sometimes all it takes are a few pairs of enormous eyes to open our own, no?

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

 

Marc Alan Fishman: The Real Samurnauts – From Fans to Friends to Family

Fishman Art 130615Forgive me folks. Today’s column is going to be a sappy, crappy, and sweeter than caramel drenched hot fudge balls dipped in rock candy. Consider this my spoiler alert: there’s absolutely no snark in today’s column. There’s only the happy tale of how a pair of acquaintances became so much more to me and to my Unshaven brethren.

The only thing truly standing in my way of bringing the noise and the funk to my half of every Samurnaut book were real life models. I make no bones about my abilities: I draw from life. A blank paper to me is less an invitation to showcase a spindly Spider-Man or healthy Hulk. I was trained to draw what I see, and sadly my mind is far too left brained to maintain an image well enough to reproduce from grey-matter to hand. But I digress.

When it came time to shoot The Samurnauts, I opted to reach out to those whose faces I wasn’t so acclimated to. That, and I honestly didn’t want my immediate family and friends traipsing around as superheroes. My call-to-action was met (largely) by members of a local(ish) comedy troupe I had opened for on a handful of occasions. Oh yeah. I should totally mention: for a hot minute I considered pursuing stand-up comedy. Don’t look it up on YouTube. Seriously. Don’t type “Marc Fishman Stand-Up.” Don’t say I didn’t warn you. OK? OK. Where was I?

Oh yes. Six members of “Big Dog Eat Child” were kind enough to lend their faces to The Samurnauts. With said Big Dogs I was granted a set of models built for emotion and staging. Putting a nerf gun into their capable hands and shouting “be heroic” showed their natural talent to contort and twist into brand new people. Amongst them, Erik Anderson and his wife Cherise (not of the troupe, but equally interested in helping out when our initial model had to cancel) stood out as being very much into becoming superheroes. After a fun afternoon of digital photography, Nerf wars, and prancing about… I made a last-minute offer to my new models. “If you are ever curious as to how this will turn out, feel free to look me up on Skype.”

It could not have been maybe a week or two later that my computer buzzed at me. Erik and Cherise, in the heart of the weekend (when most everyone is enjoying not having to make comic books), wanted to check in. And there they stayed glued to their screen watching me build a comic book from roughs to inks to colors to lettering. Over the course of the weeks that it took, they stayed up on Skype night after night watching the construction. Suddenly I was no longer making a comic alone in my basement… I was drawing for an audience. An audience willing to literally stay up with me until they couldn’t stay awake. As they would later tell me… I was better than HBO.

When the first issue of Samurnauts came hot off the press, Erik and Cherise were at the convention with bells on. Not happy enough to simply see a final copy of their issue, they were determined instead to see Unshaven Comics succeed. They grabbed a handful of business cards and took to the show floor to spread the word. A husband-wife guerrilla marketing team… doing the job we figured would not be gifted to us for many many years of convention-trenching. Oh how wrong we were.

Over the years (which I can’t even believe is how long we’ve been doing this…), Erik and Cherise have become less friends of Unshaven Comics, more family. Every convention, literally every convention we have attended since The Samurnauts was a thing, they have been in tow. We launched a Kickstarter to turn Erik into a cosplayer. And when it succeeded, soon our Blue Samurnaut was showing up in every costume-round up album across the mid-west. And this past weekend in Charlotte, North Carolina, both Erik and Cherise stood behind tables pitching our wares at Heroes Con in lieu of our own Kyle Gnepper (who was deservedly enjoying a vacation gifted to him by his non-comic-book-making day job). They did it without being asked. They did it because they love our book. They did it because they want to see us succeed.

There’s that gem of a lyric… “I get by with a little help from my friends…” And never before would I have found it to be so profound. Unshaven Comics is substantially lucky to have a plethora of amazing friends out there in the industry. We’d be remiss not to thank Mike Gold, Glenn Hauman, Adriane Nash, and the whole lot of ComicMix‘ers for the continuing success we’ve achieved in the five years we’ve seriously pursued our dream. Erik and Cherise engrained themselves into our studio and company without asking for anything more than the promise of continued hero-dom. A price we still feel guilty for today.

I know those of us who make comic books have many reasons to be cranky, snarky, angry, or bitter. But here I sit in awe of two people who Skype’d in with me once because they loved the idea of being heroes to the world… and ended up instead being mine.

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

 

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

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

Mike Gold: The Big Booth 1105 Crossover

imagesIt was fated to happen. ComicMix is participating in our very first crossover.

This coming weekend – as in Friday, Saturday and Sunday – ComicMix will once again be appearing at the C2E2 comics and pop culture convention at Chicago’s McCormick Place, on the scenic downtown shore Lake Michigan near the Adler Planetarium, the Shedd Aquarium, the Field Natural History Museum, and that formerly beautiful football (and, next March, hockey) stadium Soldier (sic) Field – before that hideous flying saucer landed on top of it.

More prestigious still, we ComicMixers will be teaming up with our good buddies at Unshaven Comics. This means the “good” Marc Alan Fishman will be appearing at the same booth as the “evil” Marc Alan Fishman. And if they inadvertently touch… well, let’s just say people will stop bitching about Mrs. O’Leary’s improperly defamed cow.

Representing ComicMix: Glenn Hauman, Adriane Nash, either the good or the evil Marc Alan Fishman (I can never tell which one is which) and yours fairly truly. We will be making two – count ‘em two ­– major announcements at the show, each of which will be promptly detailed in this slice of the etherverse. I won’t tip our collective hand, but I will say this: the second of these announcements will reveal what “CMPS” stands for. I mean this in the acronymical sense, and not in any ethical sense. Certainly not.

We’ll be at booth 1105 in case you didn’t read the headline, and you should because the editor-in-chief spends a lot of time obsessing over them. We eagerly await the opportunity to meet you. Unless you’re rude or insulting; then, we eagerly await the opportunity to let out our pent-up convention aggression. In my case, well, I’ve been going to comic book conventions for 45 years now. But I also used to be among the crowd that founded and ran the amazingly perfect Chicago Comicon, so I know this won’t be an issue.

Truth be told, I like Chicago conventions that are actually held within the city limits. There’s a bunch of reasons for this: the fans are amazingly friendly, the food is unbelievable, the city is everything great that New York City says it is but isn’t and can never be, and – most important – the Fire Marshal, for some odd reason, actually enforces the fire laws at massive conglomerations of humans and paper goods.

Holy Odin’s Eyehole, I’m gotta get it from insecure New Yorkers, aren’t I? Well, as you read this I’m already in Chicago (meetings, meetings, meetings; all at amazing restaurants) so I can only respond in person on the convention floor. Please re-read the sentence above about rude or insulting people and my 45 years of pent-up convention aggression.

We’re gonna have us a swell time. And to take tongue out of cheek for a rare moment, I hope you-all can share those swell times with us.

I hope to see you this weekend.

THURSDAY: Dennis O’Neil

FRIDAY: Martha Thomases

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marc Alan Fishman: The Small Con Job

Fishman Art 130323A week ago today, Unshaven Comics popped our 2013 con cherry with a bang right in our own backyard. OK, not literally our backyard, but certainly close enough given how far we’ll end up traveling this year in the name of indie comics. Our first con? A return trip to Orland Park (a way-south suburb of Chicago), and the newly minted DanCon: Spring show. It was, as they say, business as usual. Lucky for us? That business was good.

DanCon, founded by the appropriately named Dan Royer, is a testament to old-school comic conventions. Held inside the Orland Park Civic Center, the day saw hundreds of local friends, families, and fun-seekers roaming through the two medium sized rooms that held the nerditry. One room for creators, and one for dealers. Betwixt them were registration lines, homemade concessions, and a photo op area. In short? It was everything a li’l con should be… logistically speaking. But that’s not what this write-up is really about. Logistics are important of course (something WizardCon seemingly can’t get right to save their life), but what sets this show apart is the community created around it.

A smaller show breeds interaction. Between fans and creators and between the creators themselves. It’s rare amidst a large show for people to be as relaxed as they were at DanCon. And while there were no D-list celebrities or obligatory Batmobiles to increase admission (or table) prices… those who came, came to buy and enjoy themselves. Not to knock a larger show experience entirely of course; but here was a single day, a single experience, uniting show goers with the core essence of our little area of pop-culture: comic books.

Having attended dozen of shows over the last five years, it’s become clearer and clearer that we all really share a singular experience. Whether our specific offerings target tweens, kiddies, horror fans, cape-lovers, trekkies, or any of the other scads of specific would-be-nerds… we are all united in our persuit of admiration and celebration. With each successive show, comes a familiarity with fellow creators. And that begets a sense of camaraderie. It was fitting that the first three guys I gave the all-too-familiar “nod of hello” to responded with positive comments on my fatherly ability to capture photos of my son and share on Facebook. “Who cares about those Samurnauts, your son is awesome.”

Aside from being able to share war stories with compatriots like “Dashing” Dirk Manning, “Jesus-Lover” Jon Michael Lennon, “Lusts-For-Me” Leo Perez and Tom “My Last Name Seriously Is” Bacon… the real zeal of the day came from a pair of interactions that have filed themselves away as realizing you might just be making it after all.

The first? A fan came walking down the aisle… in one our shirts. Now, let me preface that in five years of actively selling our wares at shows, our only merch has been books and art. The tees that we sport are made on a website, where we literally let them rot, until we need a new batch. On the rarest of rare occasion, people ask where we get them, and we direct them to the site. Aside from a specific set of fans-turned-friends, we never expect to see ourselves out in the crowd. Suffice to say? Seeing one of our shirts unexpectedly was quite the treat.

And the second? Prior to DanCon, I took it upon myself to message a few friends who lived around the area about the show. One such acquaintance, a great gal I’ve known since junior high school, came out amidst her day with their family. Small talk was exchanged, some introductions to my wife and boy (who made a brief appearance), and then a purchase of our book for her son.

I should note that said son exchanged a few great accounts of his recent Spider-Manning to me via his Xbox, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that’d be my own scion in a few short years. But I digress. Not even an hour later, after my friend had left, she’d snapped the picture attached to this article. I know it’s a trope of so many in our position… but seeing even just one small fry immersed in a book I was a part of? It’s what makes so many lost nights and weekends worth it. Of course if said li’l dude shows up next year looking for more books? All the better!

Ultimately, I could think of no better way to kick off 2013 for Unshaven Comics. In this year, on our quest to raise enough capital to finance our way to San Diego in 2014… DanCon 2013 was a fitting start. Thanks in large part an admirable promoter (and his always nice wife and staff), and a well-thought-out convention built to support the community that seeks the intimate interaction a small con excels in. Little did you know, it’s not just affirming for the fans – it’s even more gratifying for creators!

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

 

Marc Alan Fishman: Mel Brooks, Jerry Ordway, and Me

Fishman Art 130309Hey kiddos, this intro is a bit of a winding path. I feel it necessary so, please, bear with me. Due largely to it not being football season, my radio has been officially turned off the past month or so. As I trek into and out of my day job some 35-45 minutes away, I have most recently found a love of podcasts. Specifically, I’ve found WTF by Marc Maron to be the best of the bunch.

Within his hour-ish show twice each week, he interviews any number of comedians, musicians, or figures of pop-culture. But unlike your traditional interviewers, Maron always takes to a free-form conversation that usually drills down to the core of his interviewee… when he himself isn’t revealing his own intricately maudlin and beautiful sentiments on his own life. Recently I listened to such a conversation Maron had with Mel Brooks. Amidst the amazing discussion they shared on life, on being Jew-ish (yes… Jew-Ish), and the inherent entropy of life itself, Mel retorted a line that sunk to my own core: The only way to move in life is forward.

Mel Brooks’ career is legend. When I stumbled on my father’s VHS of Blazing Saddles, it absolutely changed my way of thinking when it came to comedy. Further study of the life and times of Mr. Brooks are staggering. But I digress. It’s this concept of “forward” that resonated with me.

Suffice to say, I hear many times in my e-mailing of various mentors and friends how young I am. But at 31, married, with a 1 year old butt-scooting about… I don’t feel young. I’ve changed day jobs so many times, it boarders on the hilarious. I’ve owned more cars in my driving life than either of my parents did in twice the time. And it seems like I’ve been trying to break into comics for over a decade.

To look at man like Brooks, who has worked now my entire life twice over, is a testament to who I’d like to be. My mother, whose Jewish Guilt™ knows no bounds, is never three connected statements away from telling me I work too much. And while yes, I spend upwards of 16-18 hours in front of a computer making stuff, it’s not as if I’m working for naught. Some of that time pays my bills, and fills my son up with pureed foods and waffles. The rest of that time though, is pursuing what Mel himself has for a lifetime; a way to connect to the world in an unforgettable way. Though I know my progeny is my immortality, I’m too much of an ego-centric bastard to be happy with that alone.

There was a time, not very long ago (all things considered) that Unshaven Comics got together – this was actually before we had a name – and made a sparking proclamation: If we didn’t make it by the time we were 30, we’d just go back to being fans. I wonder if Mel Brooks told himself when Sid Caesar hired him to write on Your Show of Shows: “If I don’t have something to hang my hat on by the time I’m 30, I’ll just go back to the garment district.” I sincerely doubt it.

The fact is that the need to create, and the need to be successful are not related. Breaking in is a myth. The fact is. the business itself is not an “in” or “out” industry. It’s “in”… and “not in.” In other words, when there’s work to be had, consider it a blessing. Not unlike acting, singing, or any other art form, making comics should be regarded as a state of being, and a state of notoriety.

Of course, making money sure helps the creative process go a bit further, don’t it? We need only look towards the aging creators in our industry to see how “breaking in” means a pile of bupkis when there are bills to pay and your name isn’t regularly on the racks anymore.

Jerry Ordway recently posted an online plea for work. One would think that by his résumé alone, the man was “in” and could regularly produce work until he deemed it unnecessary.

I could easily take this meandering rant and aim it towards this industry that is built (not unlike Hollyweird) to chew you up and spit you out when you’re no longer a profit machine. But let’s face it. I’ve not personally made it enough to feel that way. As far as I’m considered, the mountaintop is unattainable, and I no longer care to climb it.

The whole crux of this rant banks solely on the ideology of Mr. Brooks. It’s not about having my name next Robert Kirkman or Jeph Loeb anymore. We are living in a time of great change. If I were to be so bold, I’d squarely stand behind my tiny pulpit here and tell Mr. Ordway to choose to bet on himself rather than beg fans to bang down the door of DC on his behalf. Mel Brooks had to take Young Frankenstein to a young production company to see it make the light of day. So too, can we comic creators choose our destinies.

The purpose of life is to always move forward. There’s no time to sit still. The Earth doesn’t stop rotating because you need it to (nor does it reverse if you spin around it the other way a whole bunch). It’s coming to grips with the notion that we all have stories to tell; so long as we have the physical ability to produce them, we should.

And on that note… I have work to do.

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

 

Marc Alan Fishman: Pulp Fishman

Fishman Art 130223I’m gonna take a slight detour off my normal path this week, kiddos. Mike Gold and I like to e-mail one another every now and again. It just so happened that today Mike name dropped the Djesus sketch from SNL from last week. I told him I’d not seen it, as I was waiting to see Django first. Turns out having a toddler makes for a pretty house-bound social calendar. In his retort, Mike lamented “Django is great, unless you don’t like Tarantino. Then it’s ‘Tarantino.’” Oh ho! Sweet Mikey G. Me and QT go way back.

Long before we were Unshaven Comics, Matt Wright, Kyle Gnepper and I were just bros. And prior to making amazing comics, we just read ‘em. Amidst the angst, part time jobs at local retail establishments and foodatoriums, we wasted our ample free time with movies, anime, video games, and comics all to help us find our way through the world. Nothing spoke to me in these tumultuous times more than the films of one Quentin Tarantino.

Somehow, his pop-culture drenched films permeated my mind in a wash of “too cool for school” attitude, and “fuck the system” structure. I wholly thank Kyle for introducing me first to Reservoir Dogs, QT’s take on a heist film. Here, I was left dumbstruck over the simplicity to it all. Over 99 minutes, we stay largely in a single location. There’s no massive chases, or hyperbolic action sequences. And best of all? No chicks getting in the way. OK, so it’s not a perfect flick. However, to a 16 year-old it’s practically soft-core porn. Everyone swears. Everyone has a gun. No one backs down. And Harvey Keitel suggests tacos. And it does it all with a wit and charm that required nothing more than snappy dialogue and expressive eyes.

I did not get to see Pulp Fiction in the theater. Knowing what I did about Dogs was enough; I promptly traded in some shekels for a VHS copy the second I could. In some weird way, I’d like to think this was exactly how Quentin would have wanted me to partake of his (then) magnum opus. I freely admit that I literally wore the tape out from watching and re-watching it. More-so than Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction was visceral style etched on to magnetic tape. Strictly speaking of the story alone, a teenage me got ruthless mobsters, ass watches, defeated boxers, sexy women, Mr. Pink as Buddy Holly, and most important, a dose of story by way of character, not plot device.

To a point, yes, much of the film is a meandering tale of cause and effect. But better than the action-and-gangster driven drivel my young mind was accustomed to, Pulp Fiction (Jackie Brown and Dogs as well) was a universe unto itself. As Roger Ebert noted in his reviews “A lot of movies these days use flat, functional speech: The characters say only enough to advance the plot. But the people in Pulp Fiction are in love with words for their own sake.” In short? The characters of the film were me and my kind. And better than my other deity-of-the-day, Kevin Smith, each person in QT’s films were individuals with individual drives. And don’t worry, I’ll talk about my love affair with ole’ Kev soon enough. As Alton Brown might say, “That’s for another show.”

If there is a point here in my one man circle jerk session, it’d come right down to Ebert’s aforementioned point. Beyond anything I’d seen or read up unto that time (comics included), characters in my fiction were always essentially empty vessels I could place myself into. In comparison to those heroes of my childhood, He-Man, G.I. Joe, and even the animated Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were merely placeholders and plot movers. Tarantino’s films showed me a world where there was no room for me on screen. Vincent Vega was a cool, mysterious mob hit man who had come back from a vacation into a world of troubles. Mr. White was a hardened, loyal criminal with a past so chock full of vitriol, a lesser director would still be presenting us with prequels. And if you could find an inch of room to move inside the mind of Beatrix Kiddo? Well then you’re a better man than I.

In the post-modern world, I freely admit to the rafters that my own modern fiction was inspired first by Quentin Tarantino. And while masters like Waid, Morrison, Busiek, and Moore would soon lay claim to the rest of my influence CV, it was QT who started the big ball a rollin’ down the hill. His ability to fill worlds, to allow those worlds to breathe, and to realize that A lead to B, but not because the hand of God requires it… remains a breath of fresh air amidst rotting garbage. While I no longer need to proclaim him a lord of creation anymore, I can admit true admiration for a new-era genius of modern fiction. Tarantino mastered the art of homage, and proved that the stories that molded us can give birth to new creations unto themselves. Surely anyone looking at my own Samurnauts will see nothing more than a bearded QT-phile playing in the sandbox built by years broiling away under the heat of after-school cartoons.

Now I’m hungry. Let’s go get a taco.

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

 

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