give us those nice bright colors

What's all this hullabaloo about comics and photo-referencing? Copying photos, tracing photos, deriving inspiration from photos is as American as apple pie. Any look around the larger art world, from galleries to museums to the local library flower show will tell you that photography is central to contemporary art practices and has been since at least Manet. Not only as a source of imagery--which it obviously is---but as Walter Benjamin, John Berger and Susan Sontag(among many others) have observed--as a "way of seeing", a point of reference by which we frame our experience of the world. Photography(in all of its manifestations)is our map of the world. None of us sees the world in a way not impacted by photography.

So much for the obvious. The subject of comics and photography is not one usually given much thought--and when it is, it's usually in polemics pro and con or in discussions of the ubiquitous Alex Ross. (we'll get to him in a minute).
Complaints around photo-referencing in comics usually center around an artist's fidelity to the source material, and the sacrifice of expressive qualities in favor of "photo-like"ness. I say "photo-like"ness rather than photo-realism because realism (in the way the term is usually used) in such works is secondary to the replication of "photo-ness". To artists, and one would assume, editors and writers utilizing or requesting these techniques, drawing( painting/ digital effects) is in the service of said photo-likeness; not so much in a quest for verisimilitude( i.e.-to resemble the empirical world)--but resemblance to the photograph--because "we" view the photograph as something more real than reality.
("It's funny how the colors of the real world only seem real when you viddy them on the screen"; Malcolm McDowell, Stanley Kubrick; "A Clockwork Orange")

Those of us who would judge these photo-based works by the yardstick of traditional cartooning(or drawing)--miss the point. Works of this type--are not playing the game by the same rules and are not concerned with scoring the same points. Despite the obvious illustrative virtuosity displayed by many photo-referenced comics---these have less to do with drawing for drawing's sake than with drawing for photo's sake. Western comics, for example,were inspired by the movies and have always had a strong connection to film and TV. It should come as no surprise then, that some contemporary western comics make the connection to film explicit via imagery(not to mention narrative) that is more cinema-like than cartoon-like.
That "photo-likeness" proliferates today primarily in corporate super-hero comics indicates that said corporate interests may lie with the cinematic manifestations of their properties more so than with comics or cartooning. But the intricacies of this trend are too complex to be purely capitalistic, with connections towards greater illusionism in all forms of digital media, culminating in the seamless integration of cgi into even the most banal television productions, supplanting both sets and scenery.

The big pooba of of all of these developments(re: comics) is of course, the great Alex Ross. And indeed, despite overexposure, the predictability of his imagery and the stodginess of his storytelling, his achievement was truly some kind of breakthrough, for better or worse as the case may be. His vision was full and complete from the point of introduction, and who among us can say that we haven't at some time taken pleasure in his fully rendered god-like embodiments of the heroes of childhood fantasy?
Yet Ross's achievement lies not just in the realization of some collective comics fan wet dream.
Ross is about a tradition in illustration--not cartooning--and it's a mistake to view him solely within the lens of comics and cartooning rather than that of illustration. What makes Ross interesting is the way he's brought a post WWII, 1950's illustration aesthetic( carried forward from the work of his illustrator mother) that trumpeted American Exceptionalism and brought it to super-hero comics---and then--turned it on its head w/ comics work that tends to be critical of American Empire and unlimited power. There is something exceptional in the subversion of the idealized visions of American advertising-- all the more surprising that such a critique has taken the form of the most idealized of pop culture figures: the super-hero.
There are of course a multitude of other uses of the photograph in comics form, not all are so slavishly devoted to the source material. For some, of course-the photograph is simply reference in the traditional sense, information to be gleaned and adapted for a variety of purposes. For others, the photograph imbues a certain spark of life to the imagery-- like roto-scoping in a Disney or Fleischer cartoon-- not for mimicking photography as a way to fashion something "life-like",( or photo-like) more as a way for imparting some nuance of posture or movement--as magic, really. There's a difference between Madame Tussaud's and say-- Kiki Smith.
And still the potential of photographic imagery--not as source material for illustration, cartooning or caricature--but as imagery itself--has only been lightly touched upon in comics, not fully developed. Strange to say in that regard, Jack Kirby's visionary photo-collages from 40 years ago remain ahead of the game--for now.



images by Alex Ross from Marvels by Kurt Busiek and Alex Ross, c. Marvel; Alexander Ross-terrific painter who makes plastecine sculptures, photographs em and then paints from the photos-Amazing stuff! what's the deal with the name and the photo-referencing? Wot a coincidence! ain't the woild grand? Anyway --then there's some serendipitous fan art I found on the web by putting in Jonah Hex/ClintEastwood--y'knew there had to be sumpthin'; and finally Jack himself from FF #51. by the Man and Jack-the King now and ever.

Baby and Bathwater, over "The Bridge"

Frank Santoro's essay "The Bridge is Over" on the ComicsComics blog has really hit me hard. Jeezus I feel old. Or odd. I'm not sure which - probably both.

In the course of an analysis of the Direct Market 2009 and what he perceives as a rupture between an alternative audience and a mainstream audience, Santoro identifies something that strikes me as more significant - a generational divide in the larger comics audience, between those with a connection to comics history (ostensibly older readers) and those without (a new generation raised in an era of alternative plenty). More to the point, he extends that split to creators as well. Anyway-don't take my word for it, go read the essay (if you haven't already).

The comments around Santoro's post tend toward the economic rather than aesthetic, which is fine. Personally, I'm happy to buy my comics in whatever venue and form I find them in, which here in upstate NY tends to be online and as graphic novel or trade collection. I'm afraid I don't follow a lot of current mainstream, and so I don't much miss pamphlets (except when I'm feeling nostalgic -- and despite a great love of the form). Where I'm going to sell my work in the future-is an entirely different concern - and fuel for another post.

Nevertheless, it is the aesthetic, theoretical and historical aspects of "The Bridge" that are of interest to me. And I am troubled -- or perhaps simply disaffected. Not because there is a new model, or as Santoro puts it, comics creators unencumbered by mainstream comics history and tradition are"grafting" new techniques and traditions onto the larger"tree" that is comics. "Grafting" is part of the creative process - and I hope that those "alternative" traditions are as diverse and fruitful (ha!) as can be.

But I'm not an advocate of willful ignorance, or disdain for history or tradition simply for the sake of the new and novel (nor am I suggesting that Frank Santoro is - he's a well known devotee of comics history and he assumes the identity of "Watcher" in this essay). I'm not an advocate for the rejection of genre simply because it is genre - the rejection of stylistic choices and subjects that are bound to tradition. It smacks of throwing the baby out with the bath water, or, if you will, over the bridge, the result being the imposition or embrace of a creative limitation.

Now - Santoro's observation is not definitive, I'm not aware of any data-based research into the subject, and I'm sure there are alt-comics fans and creators of the "new generation" as tied to history as any of us geezers. But from behind the convention table, at SPX or MoCCA - one bears witness to the essential "rightness" of his supposition. (I say this as one whose books are steeped in genre and tradition.)

Years ago, I was a student in the class of a well-known art-critic who was speaking of the recent work of a contemporary photographer , much of which featured the use of mannequins. In discussions with her, he was dismayed to find out that she had no knowledge of the work of Hans Bellmer, nor did she express any interest. She didn't want to be burdened by too much history-it might freeze her creativity. In the critic's view, this weakened her work and her standing as an artist. His words have stayed with me-

"It's her job to know--her responsibility."

The lesson was- that awareness of history informs the work, broadens its scope -- it doesn't limit it. And if you want to be a world-class artist you have to engage it.

Now that's not the reason for the split Santoro identifies, the disregard for (mainstream) comics history that he speaks of springs from a different set of conditions - but the result is the same. Work that is less informed. Less interesting. Less a participant in the generations long conversation that is art.


The rupture between mainstream and alternative, the shift in the audience, the "grafting" that Santoro speaks to - may also be related to another shift-- among creators-- which I'm not sure anyone has as yet catalogued to any great degree. From the first generations of urban, working-class, self-taught, immigrants practicing the craft, to art-school trained/University educated BFA's, MFA's, and dropouts of the last 10-15 years, that shift has resulted in numerous changes to the ways in which (some) comics are perceived, packaged and understood. Attendant with that is a move towards cultural legitimacy, a standing previously unavailable to the "degenerate"medium assailed by Frederic Wertham.

I admit, I haven't given it a great deal of thought myself - but if I am to consider it, I know that art-school culture is a very different environment than the Eisner-Iger studios. And the comics produced are likely to be very different.

There are plenty of contemporary art surveys taught at University level, there are few examinations of comics history. There are plenty of classes in which one learns to draw from life, but few where one learns to spot blacks. In the first year of art school, freshman students, the "class artists" in high school because they could draw manga and Disney characters, take foundation classes wherein they learn to disavow the "slick" techniques they've practiced and admired for years.

Do these circumstances contribute to the rupture Santoro has identified? I don't know-I'm just hypothesising. It's not a negative for young art students and cartoonists/comics creators to be exposed to a variety of visual experiences and approaches-far from it. But there does exist the potential - for the establishment of a mindset that encourages distance from comics tradition and craft, and fuels the outright rejection of popular models of the form - i.e the super-hero.

It's not that corporate entities and their representatives haven't contributed to the degeneration of the super-hero themselves. They've done what they can to speed disaffection among readers. But the end result has been the de-legitimization of (mainstream) comics, of the super-hero in particular, at a time in which comics are taken more seriously than ever. And the young creators Frank Santoro encounters can't perceive the beauty of a page from a "Spider-Man" comic-simply because it is Spider-Man.


One last anecdote (I promise - no more, at least in this post). In art-school, one of my first painting classes -- I brought in a large piece for the critique.


My instructor frowned at it, dismissing it thusly:

"...it looks like a cartoon..."

image: Superman #15; copyright DC Comics/Warner Bros. 2009