BY Dietmar Dath in Frieze | 11 NOV 00
Featured in
Issue 55

Drawing Conclusions

No laughing matter

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BY Dietmar Dath in Frieze | 11 NOV 00

Dave Sim, Canadian artist and author of the seminal self-published comic book Cerebus (1977), once sagely remarked that the two main approaches to making comics are irreconcilable. One could call these two factions the 'Eisner School' and the 'Kurtzman Camp'. They are named after Will Eisner, the artist behind the influential Spirit strip and author of such graphic novels as A Contract with God (1978), and Harvey Kurtzman, creator of Mad Magazine and Playboy's 'Little Annie Fanny' - one of the most successful and critically acclaimed satirists American pop culture has ever produced.

These two giants of the comic-book world each draw flocks of eager disciples, who gather around their heroes in a spirit of mutual enmity. The difference between the two camps is one that existed before there was even such a thing as the comic strip: it is simply the conflict between 'High' and 'Low' culture. While Eisner people talk of craft, verisimilitude, narrative flow, cause and effect, Kurtzman admirers such as Art Spiegelman, creator of Maus, or Gary Groth, publisher of The Comics Journal, would like to establish a critical canon linking comics with the kind of artistic or literary production analysed in Artforum or The New York Times Book Review. Kurtzman people in the comic book field call their opponents 'hacks' and accuse them of pandering to the degraded tastes of the TV-stupefied masses. The Eisner faithful, who nevertheless steadfastly claim that what they create is also 'art', find their rivals' work pretentious, empty, and boring.

Given that such a vast ideological gulf separates these two schools of comic book art, it is with considerable admiration and relish that the comic book enthusiast notes the appearance of Scott McCloud´s book Reinventing Comics (Paradox Press/DC Comics, New York, 2000). McCloud simply does not give a damn either way. Leaving the Eisner/Kurtzman conflict in the dust, his new book is a critical study offering historical and comparative insight. It is one man´s testimony to the medium he loves, and above all, it's also a comic book. Like its now legendary precursor, Understanding Comics (1993), McCloud's new offering may very well become a canonical text of the sort the Kurtzman school is always asking for. Yet McCloud's attention to the minutiae of craft and his discourse on technological issues - ranging from publishing conditions to the use of computers - is of such delicacy and subtlety that even the most fervent Eisner supporter could not accuse him of slackery where it counts.

Understanding Comics filled a gaping hole in comic-book criticism, and even the commercially-oriented Comic Buyer´s Guide published a long interview with McCloud to celebrate this 'milestone'. Previously, McCloud was not widely known outside the small circle of comic book cognoscenti who admired him for his rather unconventional superhero book Zot! (1984). Still, as Comic Buyer´s Guide noted, he seemed 'a little young to be doing a book like this'. With disarming self-assuredness, McCloud rose to the challenge: 'I thought eight years ago that I could have done it and I probably couldn't have, because at that point a lot of these ideas weren't fully formed. But now, at 32, I think if I waited any longer I'd go crazy - all these ideas would eventually start turning in on themselves and imploding from all the pressure. If, at 42, I've figured out a lot more, I can always do a sequel.' 1 It didn't take him quite that long.

The sheer range of information supplied in Reinventing Comics is astonishing: from positivist surveys of the history and current state of the comics industry, to issues such as minority representation, from newsprint to the internet. The latter category is the greatest accomplishment of the book. Where else would you find a (graphic) listing of reasons for the often neglected fact that print media will have a loyal following for some time to come ('high resolution, portability, cheapness, speed'), or an explanation of why people don't yet seem to be willing to actually pay for web content? And this is coming from a man who is not trying to conserve the pre-computer era, but wishes to use the new tools as efficiently as possible.

In the chapters that discuss the problems and advantages of electronic media for comic artists, McCloud's highly stylised, meticulously crafted approach to the presentation of his thoughts results in a solid description of an integral part of today's visual culture. McCloud, with breathtaking ease, delivers an analysis of what hypertext and other attributes of computer-aided communication mean in terms of visual logic, sequentiality, even temporality itself, and how the domination of communication by the Web might affect the visual 'languages' of the world. The reader is invited to experience a theory of the 'temporal map' of comics ('every element of the work has a spatial relationship to every other element at all times') and realises that hypertext is the greatest challenge yet to the age-old 'temporal map' idea which has been with us since the dawn of writing and drawing.

Issues such as these are hard to convey no matter which medium one uses, since all media are affected by the problem. That McCloud manages to pull it off without any of the cumbersome ratiocination even the most advanced and light-footed 'media theories' habitually commit, is a miracle worthy of praise.

1. Comic Buyer´s Guide, No. 1008, March 12, 1993

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