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a comic-drawing essay
I'm not trying to point fingers or change minds here, just talking about how I feel about some things...
I have said before how deeply I was affected by my first encounter with Barry Smith's comic-book art in 1970. Everything he did seemed to “break the rules” of drawing comics as I had grasped them over the years. Things like: other artists would indicate grass by drawing a few scattered vertical lines -- Smith would delineate every blade. Other artists would show a tree with some rough brush slashes -- Smith would put in every line of grain in the bark and draw every leaf. His high-detail approach was mesmerising and revolutionary for me.
I'm by no means the only student of the art who was (or is) blown away by things like intense detail and photorealism -- High Rendering, if you will. Artists who draw every brick in a wall, complete with texture, instead of just roughly suggesting a few of them as so many of the Old Guys always did, artists who drew every hair on someone's head, all that sort of thing. Such artists accumulate rabid fans, as I was of Smith. This continues to happen today.
As years went by, though, and I continued to study more artists, and (especially) as I read up on my field and studied it more generally, I gradually came to appreciate some other aspects of what was going on here:
this High Rendering that we were appreciating, essentially was digging these artists for their skills as illustrators. But there is a school of thought in comics which claims that illustration is not the same thing as telling a story. Those who feel that storytelling is the primary purpose of comics can suggest that illustration per se actually detracts from it -- in extreme cases, some say that illustration is not comics.
The idea is that anything that disrupts the experience of the story -- anything that gives you pause and reminds you that you are reading a comic book and not “living” a narrative -- is to be avoided. Any time a drawing makes you stop and admire how many little lines it has in it, or how many details have been drawn in, or what a breathtaking likeness the character exhibits, etc. -- at that moment you are pulled out of the story and no longer feeling it the way the author intends. (Some will say) that this is not what you want comic art to do.
As I've gotten older, I have gradually realized that I am more concerned with telling a story in my comics than with anything else. Over time, I have stripped away the Barry Smith-isms from my drawings and opted for something simpler and less dazzling. Many other comic artists who are renowned primarily as storytellers, have also gone through a similar paring-down process over time (Alex Toth is always the first one that leaps to my mind).
And I eventually I found myself opting for scattered lines and brush slashes -- and finally realized why the guys I cut my teeth on, had done it the way they did! It has nothing to do with technical skill -- it's a deliberate aesthetic choice. When you look at Astro Boy, it isn't immediately obvious from this art that Osamu Tezuka was capable of drawing photorealistically -- yet he was! He drew that way because he knew how the reader's mind would experience and feel his stories if the characters were rendered this way, as opposed to like medical illustrations.
Today I find myself in the school that is as concerned with what not to draw as much with what to put in. Considering that I became a Smith-ite very early on, it's been a long, strange trip. :)
I have said before how deeply I was affected by my first encounter with Barry Smith's comic-book art in 1970. Everything he did seemed to “break the rules” of drawing comics as I had grasped them over the years. Things like: other artists would indicate grass by drawing a few scattered vertical lines -- Smith would delineate every blade. Other artists would show a tree with some rough brush slashes -- Smith would put in every line of grain in the bark and draw every leaf. His high-detail approach was mesmerising and revolutionary for me.
I'm by no means the only student of the art who was (or is) blown away by things like intense detail and photorealism -- High Rendering, if you will. Artists who draw every brick in a wall, complete with texture, instead of just roughly suggesting a few of them as so many of the Old Guys always did, artists who drew every hair on someone's head, all that sort of thing. Such artists accumulate rabid fans, as I was of Smith. This continues to happen today.
As years went by, though, and I continued to study more artists, and (especially) as I read up on my field and studied it more generally, I gradually came to appreciate some other aspects of what was going on here:
this High Rendering that we were appreciating, essentially was digging these artists for their skills as illustrators. But there is a school of thought in comics which claims that illustration is not the same thing as telling a story. Those who feel that storytelling is the primary purpose of comics can suggest that illustration per se actually detracts from it -- in extreme cases, some say that illustration is not comics.
The idea is that anything that disrupts the experience of the story -- anything that gives you pause and reminds you that you are reading a comic book and not “living” a narrative -- is to be avoided. Any time a drawing makes you stop and admire how many little lines it has in it, or how many details have been drawn in, or what a breathtaking likeness the character exhibits, etc. -- at that moment you are pulled out of the story and no longer feeling it the way the author intends. (Some will say) that this is not what you want comic art to do.
As I've gotten older, I have gradually realized that I am more concerned with telling a story in my comics than with anything else. Over time, I have stripped away the Barry Smith-isms from my drawings and opted for something simpler and less dazzling. Many other comic artists who are renowned primarily as storytellers, have also gone through a similar paring-down process over time (Alex Toth is always the first one that leaps to my mind).
And I eventually I found myself opting for scattered lines and brush slashes -- and finally realized why the guys I cut my teeth on, had done it the way they did! It has nothing to do with technical skill -- it's a deliberate aesthetic choice. When you look at Astro Boy, it isn't immediately obvious from this art that Osamu Tezuka was capable of drawing photorealistically -- yet he was! He drew that way because he knew how the reader's mind would experience and feel his stories if the characters were rendered this way, as opposed to like medical illustrations.
Today I find myself in the school that is as concerned with what not to draw as much with what to put in. Considering that I became a Smith-ite very early on, it's been a long, strange trip. :)
no subject
True, but it's not always clear what will give the audience pause, and what will improve the story flow. Different audience members will react in different ways to the same content.
For instance, confronted by photorealism, I think an artist is going to react very differently from a normal reader. A much larger percentage of the artist's mind is continually engaged by the technique, how it was developed or implemented, etc. But the everyday reader may simply think "nice art" -- once -- and get back to focusing largely on the story.
Also, if you apply these ideas to narrative elements -- not visual elements -- what conclusions, if any, do you reach?
no subject
Indeed -- which is why this isn't a hard 'n' fast science, and why there are varying opinions and a vast range of styles addressing these ideas. Part of what makes cartooning intriguing and cool!
no subject
He drew that way because he knew how the reader's mind would experience and feel his stories if the characters were rendered this way, as opposed to like medical illustrations.
He knew, you say -- if so, this implies certainty.
As it happens, I agree with this statement, which only concerns two possibilities (the style of medical illustrations vs. the style he actually chose) for only one creative project. I suspect he was pretty clear on that point and that if he had taken the other path, it would have lead to a predictable and worse outcome.
I just think it is possible (though difficult) to extrapolate a much larger and more comprehensive theory, that can be applied in other cases too (much like the laws of physics apply not just to the straight path of a falling apple but the arc of a struck baseball or the revolution of a spinning planet around a sun).
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But I was also an early fan of Eisner, Kubert and Toth, the latter being my fave. There IS a difference between illustration and comic art (though I think both can tell a story). For me, storytelling in comics is paramount, and on my better days sometimes get closer to that goal.
no subject
You mention Toth - even his early stuff, drawn in his late teens (15-19) while not stellar starts to show signs of decent drawing, daring POVs, and an emphasis on storytelling. While he made a leap with his work in '51-'52 (still in his early 20s!) he showed earlier signs of that great sense of design and simplicity, and worked more bugs out further during the next few years. If only we could all start at that level!
Jesse Hamm did a couple great essays on Toth's development - must reading! Part 2 is an eye-opener!
Part 1: http://sirspamdalot.livejournal.com/81283.html
Part 2: http://sirspamdalot.livejournal.com/83517.html
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There is a point where the artist is just, well, visually masturbating, it's a "look what I can draw" moment.
This is fine for illustration, but really just slows the reader down in comics.
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