« We live in the age of the refugee, the age of the exile. » — Ariel Dorfman
The tale of Czechoslovakia is a fascinating but painful one — as anyone who’s read any Kundera at all surely knows — between the Nazi and Soviet occupations, Czechoslovakia suffered steadily and profoundly through most of the 20th century. For my part, I gained a sharper view of the situation from reading an in-depth 1969 article about Czech economist Ota Sik (1919-2004).
Meanwhile, our protagonist, painter-illustrator Miroslav Šašek (1916-1980) had fortunately already settled to Paris by the time things got too ticklish back home.
For several years, he’d been mulling over the idea of a ‘kiddies’ guide to Paris’, and in 1957, he was ready to shop it around. Venerable English publishing firm W.H. Allen (1835-1991) took a gamble, and Tintin’s home, the even more venerable Belgian maison Casterman (founded in 1780 and still around) signed on as well. Pictured here is an early German edition.Collage *and* a prudent black cat? Count me in. The closing piece (I haven’t seen them all and counted, but I’m told each book in the series comprised eighty illustrations) from This Is Paris / Paris. Here’s a handful of other drawings from the book.Original art from an interior ‘This Is London‘ illustration, second book in the series and published in 1959. Read it here! « London is full of interest. On Sunday morning you can go up to Petticoat Lane open-air market. » Good old British cuisine… after ninety-four years in business, Tubby Isaac’s Jellied Eel Stall closed for good in 2013. Jellied Eel made it to an impressive second place in Ranker’s List of Most Disgusting Meats, bested (ha!) only by Icelandic Rotten Shark Meat (fresh shark was nasty enough for me — holy ammonia, Batman!). You can still cast your votes for your favourites loathsome viands.The trusted old house of WH Smith is nowadays but a shell of its former glory.Illustration from This Is Rome (1960). Such masterful use of a) negative space and b) collage. For the record, SPQR stands for Senatus Populusque Romanus, which translates to “The Senate and People of Rome”. The acronym has lately been misappropriated by white supremacists. So many dog whistles fouling the air these days…Cover art from (just like it says) This Is Venice (1961). Those were better days: note the welcome absence of billionaires’ yachts.Illustration from This Is Edinburgh (1961). « The trip to Edinburgh was one of Šašek’s favourites — “I loved working on This Is Edinburgh, though I hated the weather there. In the middle of summer, it was cold and rainy. You needed a hot-water bottle in bed with you. Working conditions were good though because the nights are very short in Edinburgh. I worked from 4 a.m. to midnight and finished the book in two months.” » W.H. Allen employee Jeffrey Simmons, who worked with Šašek throughout the series, stated that « [ Šašek ] … always made the decision himself about which destination to tackle next. And I confess that sometimes they seemed quite perverse choices to me. They weren’t always chosen on a commercial basis, I don’t think. They were all successful, of course, but some much more so than others. ». I suspect that he was referring to his pick of the Scottish capital, who had a population of less than half a million at the time. But if it inspired him — and it clearly did — I wouldn’t call it perverse. This Is San Francisco (1962). « After the book’s publication in 1962, Šašek returned to receive the Key to the City. »Interior illustration from This Is San Francisco (1962). These elements likely wouldn’t have worked as a photograph, but the greater flexibility of illustration — more latitude in colour and contrast, the dropping out of extraneous visual components — make this composition sing (like the wires, presumably.)An incredible one from This Is Hong Kong (1965). « “Hong Kong was a hard book to do because of the language problem. It took me hours and hours to draw the characters of the alphabet. I tried to use a camera, but it didn’t work. Sometimes I could have screamed! Three times, ten times, twelve times over it took me to perfect one picture! » While some artists may have been satisfied with a generic representation of the Chinese characters, Šašek’s respect for his readers would not allow for any short cuts. He was acutely aware of the eagle eyes of children through the many letters he received from them. »Nearing the end of the line: a look at some original art from This Is Australia (1970), the penultimate book in a series of eighteen.A portrait of the artist mid-musing, dated 1961.
While the series, obviously a product of its time, receded in popularity over the years, it’s thankfully been undergoing a revival in this century. Such an invaluable time capsule deserves to be preserved for posterity, both on historical and artistic grounds.
« J’fais dans la bande dessinée, qu’est bien plus pop que le ciné!* » — J.C. Forest (Une chanson, 1973)
On the eighty-ninth anniversary of his birth, let’s salute in passing one of the great pioneers of French comics, namely Jean-Claude Forest (Sept. 11, 1930 – Dec. 29, 1998), Barbarella’s creator, the man who, in the early 1960s, ushered strictly-for-kids bandes dessinées into decidedly more risqué and adult realms of eroticism, fantasy and fun.
Born on September 11, 1930 in the Parisian suburb of Le Perreux-sur-Marne, he passed away in 1998 at the age of 68, but not before leaving behind a body of work of breathtaking depth and variety. Barbarella aside (sorry, miss): Le Copyright (the springboard for Nikita Mandryka‘s Le Concombre masqué), Hypocrite, Mystérieuse matin midi et soir (his wild riff on Jules Verne’s L’île mystérieuse), Bébé Cyanure, Les Naufragés du temps (illustrated by Paul Gillon), Enfants c’est l’Hydragon qui passe… « et j’en passe », as they say.
Here are a few highlights to give you a sense of the man’s imagination, versatility and tremendous draftsmanship, in chronological order.
An excerpt is from Les colères du mange-minutes (1965-66), the second volume of Barbarella’s adventures. Yes, there was a film adaptation, but it’s, well, pretty vapid. Director Roger Vadim was kind of the Gallic John Derek; both were fair-to-middling directors whose chief talent was womanizing. Though one has to admit it *was* quite a talent.
« No, you mustn’t love me… » Detail from the cover of giff wiff, revue de la bande dessinée no.22 (Dec. 1966), previewing its article on Forest’s 1965 experimental tv cartoon Marie Mathématique, which you can watch here. It features the dulcet tones of Le beau Serge, certainly one of the most overrated artistes of the 20th century. Too much competition to call the race to the bottom, though. 😉
Born out of a misunderstanding between the editorial team of Pif Gadget and Forest, Mystérieuse matin midi et soir proved too labyrinthine for the magazine’s young readership, cost the publishers a bundle, and only two of its three parts appeared in Pif. Fear not, it was collected in album form the following year. This is a page from part 1, which saw print in Pif Gadget no. 111 (April, 1971).
A sequence from the rollicking N’importe quoi de cheval…, featuring Hypocrite, another of Forest’s spunky heroïnes. From Pilote Mensuel no. 6 (Dargaud, Nov. 1974).
A pair of pages from the melancholy, elegiac Enfants, c’est l’Hydragon qui passe « Children, there goes the Hydragon » (Casterman, 1984).
I’m sure it’s mere coincidence, but the boy, Jules, seems to be modelled after yet another Gainsbourg “muse”, pop nymphette Vanessa Paradis.
Who's Out There? 