Compared to their bodies, octopuses have fairly small eyes. Yet in comics they often sport saucer-sized peepers, and like villains in a bad Broadway production, they love to glare menacingly at their potential victims from under their impressively wrinkled brows.
Case in point, these two Tales of Suspense covers, close cousins despite the change of scenery. They’re both from 1960, both penciled by Jack Kirby and inked by Dick Ayers. Both monsters promptly acquire loving nicknames from people you would think have more important things to think of, like not getting eaten and/or crushed. Meet Monstro and Sporr!
Tales of Suspense #8, March 1960. An octopus who was minding his own business gets temporarily but dramatically enlarged by radioactivity from nuclear tests (*communist* nuclear tests). “He lives! He moves!” – I fail to see why that’s amazing more than, oh, say “this thing’s gigantic on a scale heretofore unknown to man”.
Tales of Suspense #11, September 1960. A well-intentioned but overly enthusiastic scientist exposes an amoeba to an « experimental death ray » and the poor thing grows into this.
Not all puppy-eyed octopuses have two baby blues; unlucky cephalopods end up with Cyclopean anatomy and a bad case of suffering the wrath of grapes – a cherry in a glass of buttermilk, anyone?*
The original art for the cover of The Occult Files of Dr. Spektor #19 (Gold Key, April 1976). It was painted by Filipino artist Jesse Santos. Dr. Spektor is our protagonist, yet he looks particularly baleful here, hunchbacked and grinning, nothing like the kind of dashing hero who’d rescue a drowning maiden.A panel from « Loch of the Leviathan », also drawn by Jesse Santos, and written by Don Glut. I just love this panel – the gentle curve of tentacles, the skeleton and his pleading gesture…
I highly recommend the issue, certainly because of the art, but equally the story. You won’t find a straightforward man-finds-monster, man-kills-monster plot-line here; and there’s also bikini babes for your viewing pleasure.
* Your eyes look like two cherries in a glass of buttermilk
Don’t roll those bloodshot eyes at me
I can see you’ve been out on a spree (Wynonie Harris, Bloodshot Eyes)
Sometimes octopuses have big eyeballs *and* a vocabulary all their own.
Octopus language is the biggest mystery after “what does the fox say?” I bet you never knew that octopuses go “LURK LURK?!”
Akim was an Italian comic, published from 1950 to 1983, and translated into several languages, most notably French. Drawn by Augusto Pedrazza and wrtten by Roberto Renzi, Akim was a « tarzanide », which is to say heavily “inspired” by Tarzan, if not directly ripped off from it.
The LURK LURKs in panel above were no one-time occurrence. The octopuses in this story keep saying it again and again, and with different intonations, which I find hilarious. Turns out, a whole range of emotions can be expressed with this small four-letter word! My thanks go to co-admin and partner RG, who noticed this unpromising, poor-excuse-for-a-comic in a store and pointed out why we should pick it up after I had scoffed at it.
I can’t help but feel that the octopus is trying to say something important, but all its mouth (?) can form is a piteous luuurrrkk.
Another day, another birthday, it would seem. Well, I feel this one’s of particular importance… Gahan Wilson, born February 18, 1930, turns 88 today. As you may know, many an artist burns bright and burns fast, enjoying a peak of a handful of years followed by a settling into habit or mediocrity. That’s not our Mr. Wilson, who’s been prolific, reliable and versatile for over a half-century. That makes him, I suppose, easy to take for granted. Let’s not, shall we?
Most visibly, he’s built up a splendiferous body of work at Playboy, which was collected in exemplary fashion (2010), for your convenience, by the fine folks at Fantagraphics (in case you don’t have room for the entire magazines.) With the possible exception of Shel Silverstein, Gahan was perhaps the only cartoonist Hugh Hefner didn’t habitually encourage to throw in some buxom females.
« Well, it certainly is nice to know someone’s looking out for us old folks! » (Playboy, November, 1987.)
He’s also been a regular contributor to The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction since 1964, again gathered by the reprobates at Fantagraphics, this time in a tome entitled « Gahan Wilson’s Out There » (2016). Significantly, the book includes Wilson’s prose works for the magazine, gems of concision and dark wit.
Which brings us to another facet of Gahan’s œuvre: his writing. I greatly enjoyed his regular film column in Twilight Zone magazine (1981-89). For the publication’s August, 1985 issue, he provided, in addition to his regular contribution, an eye-catching (watch out!) cover illustration and a feature article « I Hear You Callin’ Cthulhu », a review of the role-playing game Call of Cthulhu. « Hot on the trail of Dagon, the shoggoths, and other Lovecraftian horrors, the noted cartoonist (and intrepid TZ columnist) finds himself drawn into a labyrinth of secret caverns, sinister intruders, tentacled monstrosities — and a terrifying thing called the Insanity Table. »
« Our intrepid gamesman gathers his courage… »« … tests his luck against the dark gods… »« … reads his fate in the faces of the dice… »« … and when the smoke clears, is seen no more. »
Happy Birthday, and thanks for all the tentacles, Mr. Wilson!
Here’s a merrily libidinous one (who’s chasing whom, really?) from Irwin Caplan (1919-2007), originally published in Liberty Magazine in 1946.
From the 1940 to the early 1960s, Caplan’s work appeared regularly in all the big ones: Collier’s, Liberty, The Saturday Evening Post (with his strip “Famous Last Words”), Parade, Life, the Sunday supplement This Week, and so forth. For my money, his early work is his finest, boasting a crisper line and more distinctive in style and substance.
Caplan was also a successful fine art painter, art director, advertising illustrator and graphic designer… which may have somewhat watered down his legacy. Nevertheless, what matters is the strength of his œuvre, and the fact that he had a varied and rewarding career.
Here’s an obituary from the Seattle Times (he was born in Washington and remained a lifelong resident of The Evergreen State) that provides a fuller account of this jovial man’s life and times.
As a bonus, a Caplan cartoon of undetermined vintage and publication history… but a timeless one, you’ll surely agree.
« I was saying, Sir, in view of recent improvements, I am raising your rent. »
I’d like to wish a loud and boisterous (or quiet and dignified, depending on what he prefers) birthday to Roger Langridge, who’s a jolly good fellow (which nobody can, or will, deny). If you’re looking for a reason to celebrate something on the 14th of February, but hate the Cheez Whiz of Valentine’s Day, this could be it!
Here are some of my favourite Langridge moments, by no means an exhaustive list, but hopefully a fun one.
The cover Roger Langridge created for The Comics Journal no. 284, July 2007. Orbis terrarum est mei! (Which, as far as I can figure it out, means “the world is mine”.) A bored-looking Fin Fang Foom (he must not like flowers) presides over assorted Langridge characters frolicking in the windows below. Note the malevolent nun (Knuckles!) in the middle window.From « The Bald Truth » by Scott Gray and Roger Langridge, published in Fin Fang Four Return (Marvel, 2009), a hilarious – yet heart-warming – one-shot comic. “There was a time when giants walked the Earth! Monstrous creatures! Products of science gone mad!!! FIN FANG FOOM! ELEKTRO! GOOGAM! GORGILLA! Once they were great and terrible, and all trembled in their wake! Now, reduced to human size, they must live in the modern world and earn a buck. So what happens when the freakish foursome tries to play nice?” You can ignore the typical over-the-top Marvel description with lots of exclamation marks; this comic is surprisingly subtle. In 2012, Langridge decided he didn’t want to do work for Marvel anymore.« The Bald Truth » by Scott Gray and Roger Langridge, published in Fin Fang Four Return (Marvel, 2009). The moral of the story, as summarized by Fin himself: « Men need to grow brains, not hair. »
Our man of the hour has also written and drawn quite a few stories for « children », most of them published by KaBoom!, or their tot-friendly division, Boom!. I think there should be a special category for books that are fun for children, but even more entertaining for their parents (or the nulliparous amongst us). For instance, are the Muppets purely child-fare? Sure, little ones enjoy their madcap, sometimes surreal humour, but adults are often as smitten by it, if not more. I think it takes a special talent and superior intelligence to write stories that appeal to youngsters, but are complex enough to give their older relatives something to chew on. Throw a spirited sense of humour into the mix, and you’re all set.
Roger Langridge’s wonderful sense of humour is particularly suited for the comic book version of The Muppet Show, which he wrote and illustrated for BOOM! Studios starting in 2009 for a total of 15 (magnificent, by the way) issues.
To quote a perceptive review by Ryan Dosier (read it here),
« Once again, Langridge has beautifully captured the unhinged feeling that each of us enjoyed watching on the original Muppet Show. Zaniness reigns supreme, random Muppets hang out backstage, and we can once again feel like the show never ended. Roger Langridge has captured the Muppet spirit of writing in a way that is more than reminiscent of the Jerry Juhl days of The Muppet Show. He has a complete grasp on every character. Everything in the comic works, and it’s because of the quality of the writing that this is true. When there are, not one, but five chances for Fozzie to deliver a pun-filled monologue (each in a different comedic style) and hit each one out of the park (relatively speaking), you know the writing is top-notch. »
I don’t normally buy Disney products – Disney bought the Muppets intellectual properties from the Jim Henson company in 2004, but I made an exception and purchased The Muppet Show Omnibus (2014), and I am not regretting this decision.
This wasn’t the last time Langridge worked with the Muppets.
Jim Henson’s The Musical Monsters of Turkey Hollow, October 2014, published by Archaia. This is based on a lost television special originally written by Jim Henson and Jerry Juhl (respectively, producer and head writer of The Muppet Show) and (lovingly) adapted by Langridge for comic book form. Henson and Juhl wrote the script in 1968 (Henson was inspired by some footage he had taken of his daughters scampering through some trees during what must have been a particularly magical October), but nobody was interested in actually filming it, and so the story languished in the Jim Henson Company Archives until now. Langridge was a natural fit for this project, given that he had been the writer and main illustrator of Boom! Studios’ excellent The Muppet Show comics between 2009 and 2012.
Among more recent adventures undertaken by Mr. Langridge and his lucky readers is Snarked!, his take on Lewis Carroll’s topsy-turvy world, Abigail & the Snowman, and the Baker Street Peculiars, written by him but illustrated by someone else. All of the aforementioned comics are life-affirming *and* vocabulary-expanding.
Snarked! no. 5, February 2012. « Presenting a fresh and incredibly modern “Langridge” spin on an already-warped classic, SNARKED starts here in an epic adventure featuring the Red Queen’s children, Princess Scarlett and her baby brother Rusty, as they set out in search of the missing Red King. And who better to help guide the way than the Walrus and the Carpenter from THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS. » (description from publisher) Snarked! is also published by Kaboom.From Snarked! no. 11, August 2012. Would a child be able to appreciate the concept of “Aunt Fanny’s Leather Euphonium”? I don’t think so. An euphonium is a musical instrument, by the way, similar to a tuba in appearance.Page from Abigail and the Snowman no. 1, December 2014, published by KaBoom!. Claude is an erudite yeti on the run from evil scientists who want to continue experimenting on him.Abigail and the Snowman no. 4, March 2015. Yetis run better without shoes, that’s why the car is gaining on them.A splash page The Baker Street Peculiars no. 3, May 2016. Written by Langridge and illustrated by Andy Hirsch, with colours by Fred Stresing. Langridge-the-writer sometimes get paired with people who couldn’t draw if their life depended on it, and it’s a hideous waste of talent. Hirsch’s art is not quite as distinctive, but it fits the story well.
Wishing Mr. Langridge many happy returns, many productive collaborations, and above all the time and financial support he needs to pursue his solo projects.
In today’s Tentacle Tuesday, I’d like to demonstrate that Planet Comics, a sci-fi comic series published by Fiction House from 1940 to 1953, liked to tantalize its rapt audience by featuring tentacled monsters as often as basic decency permitted. Not to say that they limited their cheap pandering to tentacles; other tropes reared their ugly head, too. Faithful to its pulp magazine roots (Planet Comics was a Planet Stories’ spinoff), there’s always some stunning damsel in distress on the cover, and often some dashing muscle-head to rescue her. Mike Benton summarized Planet Comics’ raison d’être beautifully, if somewhat cruelly, in his Science Fiction Comics: The Illustrated History (1992) as «the barest smattering of sense and substance».
In its defence, P.C. also often ran stories in which female protagonists saved their friends’ bacon. How oddly progressive: the gals were clearly dressed to impress, but their skills and smarts repeatedly allowed them to overcome the odds while the big hunks stood helpless. Between that and all the tentacles, there’s a warm spot in my heart for Planet Comics.
Let’s start with no. 42, which features Gale Allen, a Venusian princess with a knack for getting into trouble and the courage for getting herself out of it. Her Girl Squadron, comprising female pilots and soldiers, may have been an excuse for drawing yet more pretty girls, yet in the stories the squadron was still a force to be reckoned with, by friend or foe.
Planet Comics no. 42, May 1946. Cover by Joe Doolin, adept at depicting the female form in an aesthetically pleasing way. Here Gale is being rescued by some dark-haired stud with a laser gun (who cares about him?), but let’s peek inside…This is what Gale has to deal with in « Slave of the Hydra », also drawn by Doolin. This toothy beast is supposed to be a Hydra. Hydra of the Hydridae family, or the Greek many-headed serpent? Neither supposition makes sense.Our plucky heroine manages to save the day by escaping a certain drowning! It’s a little known fact that girls can actually store extra oxygen in their boobs. Kidding aside, I can understand why Planet Comics had a female readership that must have enjoyed reading about women who don’t crumble under pressure, and sometimes even kick monster tush.
Moving on to the next cover, an odd one even by Golden Age sci-fi standards:
Planet Comics no. 44 (September 1946), cover by Joe Doolin. She’s a generic damsel-in-distress, I get that, but the alien is strange – even for an alien. I imagine that the artist’s internal conversation went something like this: “okay, I’ll give him arms that double as tentacled snouts, and snail eyeball stalks. Oh, and I’ll make him a cyclops while I’m at it. And he’ll be drooling. And I’ll make him look black because that’s more exotic.” Yikes.
A glimpse at the stories inside quickly proves that the cover has nothing to do with Mysta of the Moon, or any of the “many others” advertised on the cover. There is, however, an octopus in the Futura story. Futura was another recurring heroine, an ordinary girl abducted by Brain-Lords of Cymradia and “improved” into a stronger, smarter version of her old self. Smart, resourceful and a damn good fighter, Futura is fun to watch in action. Especially when tentacles are involved! Take a look:
Officially signed by John Douglas; pencils and inks by Chester Martin. I feel oddly sorry for the crocodile.
Let’s have a look at several covers where tentacles are actually used as the good lord has intended, i.e. for grabbing pretty girls:
Ah, yes, the old “reptiles with tentacles” scare. Planet Comics no. 51, November 1947. Cover by Joe Doolin (again). Man, his girls are pretty delectable.Planet Comics no. 67, summer 1952. Cover by Maurice Whitman. There are absolutely no tentacles in any of the stories. Boo, I say.Planet Comics no. 70 (spring 1953), cover by Maurice Whitman. I like the alien’s get-up in general: his flappy ears, the motorcycle helmet, the hip lip piercings… He’s one cool cat. I am equally impressed by how he’s managing to fire a gun when he doesn’t have opposable thumbs (maybe the pistol is specially tentacle-adapted; instead of a trigger, some sort of squeeze sensor). Disappointingly, the insides of this issue don’t have any tentacles whatsoever, although there are some dinosaurs and giant man-eating spiders (and most of us will be happy to settle for that).
Oh, perhaps I have been neglecting burly heroes a tad. Those of us who prefer muscle to curve deserve some eye candy, too! So here’s good old Reef – and some green men in Speedos.
Planet Comics no. 17, March 1942. A Reef Ryan story, possibly pencilled by George Appel and inked by Al Gabriele, though it’s credited to Hugh Fitzhugh, a funky nom-de-plume for parties unknown.
And men get grabbed by tentacles, too:
Planet Comics no. 32, September 1944. Art by Lee Elias.
There’s about 10 more Planet Comics covers with tentacles left, and quite a few more interior pages showcasing the beauty of the octopus, or tentacled alien, or cephalopod reptile, or whatever else the kooky minds writing and drawing for Fiction House have dreamed up… but that’s enough for now. There’s only so much probing appendage the human mind can take in one go, so I’ll say Auf Wiedersehen.
Until the next time our paths (and tentacles) cross again!
Of course, you can take that ‘forgotten artist’ notion with a grain of salt: most Archie artists aren’t forgotten, because they were rarely acknowledged in the first place. There are cases such as that of Scrooge McDuck creator Carl Barks, aka the Good Duck Artist, whose identity latterly became known through the efforts of a handful of devoted fans… but such fortuitous events are rare as Gladstone Gander’s off days.
No such luck for Robert “Bob” White (1928-2005), who got the short end of the stick despite being the Archie line’s signature artist during its peak period* (pretty squarely 1959 to 1965) and crafting uncluttered, expertly-designed covers and stories. Of course, these years coincide with most of the classic Archie bullpen hitting its stride, bookmarked at one end by the ascent of White (who’d arrived at Archie around 1954, but details are scant) and at the other by Samm Schwartz‘s departure for greener, but sadly ephemeral (1965-69) pastures, an art director post with Tower Comics.
Archie’s illiberal response to a guy simply, and wisely, trying to avoid putting all his eggs in one basket was typical of the publisher, and of the reactionary comics industry in general, but it’s to White’s credit that, unlike Dan DeCarlo and Samm Schwartz (who at least made a break for it), he didn’t just fold, kiss their ring and take their abuse. Who’s to say? Perhaps that principled departure really stuck in their craw.
There are simply too many outstanding White covers to feature in one go; I suppose I’ll have to return to the well a couple of times. Still, these ought to give you a sense of the man’s style.
Before Afterlife With Archie, there was… Life With Archie, which « was a comic book published from 1958 to 1991. It featured Archie Andrews in adventure stories that were more dramatic than the standard Archie tales. » This is Life With Archie no. 5 (November, 1960.)« As I looked there came, I thought a change – he seemed to swell – his face became suddenly black and the features seemed to melt and alter… » ― Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde ‘Delicious’ is a good start, but what about the side effects? This is Archie’s Mad House no. 15 (Oct. 1961).Hey, the Macabre Trio’s in town! This is Laugh no. 129 (December 1961). Cool ghoul Bob White is truly in his element here. Also, do bear in mind that the word “Horror” was banned by the Comics Code Authority, yet they approved this cover. Asleep at the switch!This is Life With Archie no. 12 (January, 1962.) Correctly acknowledging the facts of evolution? Obviously, Al Hartley hadn’t made the scene yet.I’m especially fond of the period when you get a sense from the covers (chiefly those produced by White and Schwartz) that Riverdale was built over the Hellmouth or an ancient burial ground, as monsters and aliens routinely ask for directions or take Betty out for a soda. This is Pep no. 153 (March, 1962).Ah, there’s some of that “more dramatic” stuff. Life With Archie no. 16 (September, 1962.)« So don’t be persistent / Please keep your distance / You know my resistance is low » It would appear that Madison Avenue’s brand of wizardry is more than a match for Sabrina’s. This is Archie’s Mad House no. 27 (August, 1963).
– RG
*I’m in complete agreement with cartoonist-connaisseur Gregory Gallant, aka Seth, when he writes, in his introduction to John Stanley‘s Thirteen ‘Going on Eighteen’ (Drawn & Quarterly, 2009… where’s volume 2 at?) that « I like Archie comics quite a bit and own hundreds of issues of Archie and its various spin off titles. I can even tell you which years are the good years (1959 to ’65, incidentally) »
Although it’s tempting (but lazy) to assume so, men didn’t *altogether* corner the risqué cartoon niche.
It would be quite an injustice to count out the magnificent Barbara Shermund (1899-1978), prolific contributor to The New Yorker (including eight covers) and Esquire magazines, and so much more.
Far too little is known about this pioneering artist, but here’s an insightful piece aiming to rectify the situation, at least a little, written by Caitlin McGurk:
Nothing new under the sun! Frankly, that situation hasn’t gained a wrinkle since this cartoon’s appearance in The New Yorker‘s July 21, 1928 edition.One of Ms. Shermund’s aforementioned New Yorker covers, from the June 29, 1935 edition.« All I said was, ‘Granny, how do you like my new bathing suit?’ » Undated piece in ink and watercolour.« She’s lost! » Esquire, 1944. Ink and watercolour.« Mr. Dillon, I’d like to ask your daughter’s hand in marriage. » (1953, ink and watercolour.)« Who was that fellow I saw you with at Ciro’s last nite? » (Cheering Section, 1955. Ink and watercolour.)«Mother always makes me write it five hundred times before I go out with Mr. Parker » Esquire, publication date unknown, ink and watercolour.« Let’s play cowboy and indian! » (Cheering Section, 1959. Ink and watercolour.)
I can’t help but be reminded, by that final piece, of Jack Cole‘s rather more trenchant take on a similar power imbalance, published a year earlier.
« Well, there’s history repeating itself. » (Jack Cole, from Playboy, January, 1958.)
A postscript: in March, 2022, Ms. Shermund was the subject of an article in the New York Times’ ‘Overlooked No More’ series, comprising belated obituaries for notable folks whose departure flew under the radar, so to speak. In this case, we learned that:
« Shermund lived out her last years drawing at her home in Sea Bright, N.J., and swimming at a beach nearby. She died on Sept. 9, 1978, at a nursing home in Middletown, N.J.
In 2011, a niece, Amanda Gormley, decided to research her family’s history and was surprised to find that Shermund’s ashes had been left unclaimed in a New Jersey funeral home since 1978.
In May 2019, Gormley raised money through a GoFundMe campaign and, with the contributions of many artists and cartoonists, saw to it that Shermund’s ashes were buried alongside her mother’s grave in San Francisco. »
Tentacles gleefully probing various orifices, that’s what my mind is on this Tentacle Tuesday. We well know that octopuses not only tend to strangle their victims, but also get close up and personal with their anatomy.
Just look at this adorable (did I say “adorable”? Maybe I meant “horrifyingly ugly”? I always get these two mixed up) cutie wrap Judge Dredd in his affectionate embrace.
I’ll let Pete Wells, owner of the « 200 A.D. Covers Uncovered » blog, explain the Couch Potatoes: « Behold, the god-like Cliff Robinson’s fantastic cover for Prog 1726, which features the welcome return of the Couch Potatoes. Another crazy Mega-City fad, the couch potatoes were lovable humanoid/vegetable lifeforms that sat in front of the Tri-D, repeating common phrases to its owner – think of a Little Britain fan and you’ll get the idea. The creatures were outlawed by the Justice Department when it transpired that they were super-evolving and feeding on their owners! »
Head over to Wells’ blog to watch this cover evolve from a preliminary sketch into a full-blown vision of tentacular glory.
A page from « Children of the Future », drawn by Paolo Eleuteri Serpieri, published in a special edition of Heavy Metal called « Son of Heavy Metal », May 1984. Looks like the children of the future shall be some unholy octopus-human breed. Amusingly, the lecherous multi-tentacled sleazeball is still named Octo despite having many, many more appendages than just 8.
Serpieri is an Italian comic book writer and artist whose main interest is erotica. (His style is not really my thing, but hey, tentacles unite all.) He’s quite well-known for Druuna, a sci-fi/fantasy comic, which is more like an excuse to draw as many accouplements as possible.
Bonus image: Druuna and tentacles! Art by Paolo Eleuteri Serpieri. At least this ass-and-boob shot makes *some* anatomical sense – Druuna’s spine is still in place.
Lambiek Encyclopedia laconically notes that “Serpieri’s highly detailed portrayals of well-endowed heroines have earned him the undisputed title of “Master of the Ass”. Now Serpieri clearly has a huge interest in women’s asses, and he draws them lovingly, but so do a lot of other artists. Undisputed by whom? History is silent on this topic.
You can see more of his stuff here, which is definitely NSFW, unless you work in a brothel.
Sometimes you’re just minding your own business, and suddenly something green and scabrous sticks itself into your mouth. Jayzey Lynch is of course Jay Lynch, the artist of this cover (Snarf no. 2, August 1972). “Good lord!”, indeed.
M. Steven Fox of Comix Joint wrote a riveting (as usual) review of Snarf no. 2. Read it here.
« What kind of people are these? Where do they come from, what do they do? What’s in a name? »
Coming out of nowhere (well, “From off the streets of Cleveland“, as it happens) in 1976, Harvey Pekar’s American Splendor was one of comics’ truest and most bracing alternatives. It wasn’t part of the Underground Comix movement, despite the participation of Pekar’s old friend and fellow record collector Robert Crumb, and it wasn’t like anything pushed out by the mainstream comics industry.
This is The Comics Journal no. 97 (April, 1985). Cover by Crumb and Pekar.
Crumb’s introduction to Doubleday/Dolphin’s 1986 anthology of early AS strips describes Pekar’s appeal better than anyone else is likely to:
« Yeah, Harvey is an ego-maniac; a classic case… a driven, compulsive, mad Jew… it’s something to see. But how else could he have gotten all those comics published, with almost no money; in total isolation from any comic-publishing ‘scene’ such as exists here in California, or in New York; constantly brow-beating artists to illustrate his stories; handling the distribution himself… only an ego-maniac would persist in the face of such odds. »
« The subject matter of these stories is so staggeringly mundane, it verges on the exotic! It is very disorienting at first, but after awhile you get with it. Myself, I love it… Pekar has proven once and for all that even the most seemingly dreary and monotonous of lives is filled with poignancy and heroic struggle. All it takes is someone with an eye to see, an ear to hear, and a demented, desperate Jewish mind to get it down on paper… there is drama in the most ordinary and routine of days, but it’s a subtle thing that gets lost in the shuffle… our personal struggles seem dull and drab compared with the thrilling, suspense-filled, action-packed lives of the characters who are pushed on us all the time in movies, tv shows, adventure novels and… those *other* comicbooks.
What Pekar does is certainly new to the comicbook medium. There’s never been anything even approaching this kind of stark realism. It’s hard enough to find it in literature, impossible in the movies and tv. It takes chutspah to tell it exactly the way it happened, with no adornment, no great wrap-up, no bizarre twist, nothing. Pekar’s genius is that he pulls this off, and does it with humor, pathos, all the drama you could ever want… and in a comic book yet! »
And here’s an atypical example of Mr. Pekar’s storytelling art, a rare but eloquent pantomime vignette. It originally saw print in DC Comics’ run of American Splendor comic books (no. 1, Nov. 2006, published under the Vertigo imprint and edited by Jonathan Vankin.) The symbiosis at play here between writer and artist makes ‘Delicacy’ my very favourite story by Hilary Barta, who somehow never gets matched with a script worthy of his tremendous talent, even when he’s working with Alan Moore (Moore can be very funny, but superhero parodies, even his, seldom are… and Splash Brannigan wasn’t exactly side-splitting). This is a wonderful oddity, one of two times that Barta and Pekar collaborated. Bon appétit!
As the close of the 1970s neared, James Warren‘s magazine empire was inexorably crumbling. I like to imagine that it was decided, in desperation, that a little fiddling was in order… just a smidgen. Some enlightened soul (my pick is new editor Chris Adames) got the notion to bring on board Terrance Lindall (1944-) to produce some covers for the magazines. He painted a mere five, but made each one memorable, to say the least, evoking justified comparisons to Matt Fox, Lee Brown Coye, sans oublier the venerable Hiëronymus Bosch.
Well, then, let us bask in the comforting, bucolic visions of Terry Lindall at Warren, in their order of publication. Makes you want to pack a picnic lunch and go for a leisurely ramble through the countryside with your faithful Hound of Tindalos.
Creepy no. 108 (June, 1979.)Eerie no. 103 (August, 1979.)Creepy no. 116 (March, 1980.)What do you know? Terrance Lindall actually manages to make perennial fanboy wankbait Vampi look downright classy. This is Vampirella no. 86 (April, 1980.)And all too soon, it’s over, with Creepy no. 127 (May, 1981.)
Oh, how Creepy’s long-time readers must have wailed and moaned at these singular, quease-inducing mise-en-scènes! “Bring back Boris Vallejo!”
Nowadays, Lindall earns his keep as co-director and chief administrator of the Williamsburg Art and Historical Center in Brooklyn, New York. Doesn’t he just perfectly look the part?
The new kid’s mini-bio, as it appeared in Creepy 108 (June, 1979).
-RG
Who's Out There? 