Saturday 23 June 2018

Art’s primary function through the eras before photography has been to record what is. Nature ,landscape, and honest portraits. Portraits, like the work of the modern professional photographer, are often subject to flattery and embellishment. Meticulously controlled factors include lighting ratio, lighting pattern, facial view, and angle of view. The photographer may choose soft lighting to hide any harshness or flaws to a subject’s skin and features, and the traditional artist may ignore them outright. This practice presents an idealization to the audience and has been made ubiquitous with the advent of digital airbrushing, warping and filters. It relies on the human mind’s tendency to make assumptions in accepting what is shown. Even if what is shown is a small snapshot of highly controlled reality, for example the case of Marilyn Monroe.

We immediately think of Marilyn Monroe as an impeccable American beauty based on culturally ingrained and iconic photography, but few remember this was a professionally made up actress in expensive designer dresses with world class hairstyling and romantic lighting. Few think of her in an ordinary T shirt and sweatpants with unkempt hair or visually flawed in any way. In short, few think of her as human. She is considered an icon.

In this way, what is not depicted becomes just as important as what is. The most iconic comic characters are limited in what they do and how they look. The most famous character of that medium, Superman, has an image burned into the cultural consciousness after decades of wearing the same outfit. Red cape, blue tights, red underwear. His alter ego, Clark Kent, a business suit and thick glasses. This limitation of outfit and style extends to Japanese manga. In Dragonball Z by Akira Toriyama, The main protagonists are depicted with the same hairstyle throughout their entire lives. As well as the same outfits with only minor variations. Much like The Simpsons, they exist in a hyper reality where never changing one’s clothes is normal. These are not the visuals of people but rather visual short hands of genre archetype. This is a sacrifice of realism, as these characters are not clad in the ordinary or purely functional, but are rather visual manifestations of ideas, for example Hope, tragedy or determination.

Characters with distinctive and constant looks which telegraph their role in the story permeate my work. For these characters are static constants, indeed most comic icons donot undergo character development on a long term basis. They possess a relentlessness expressed through their unchanging appearance. A character that changes appearance regularly, immediately communicates flexibility, balance, normalcy, uncertainty and growth.

Criticism based around the practicality of comic book design often include feminist criticism on sexualisation, to appeals to realism: why does a particular character have their heads exposed if they are otherwise fully armoured? With this idea that a realistic warrior would be armoured head to toe, the idea that Batman would not expose his mouth, the criticism misses the evident fact that characters in visual media are not only engaged in conversations with each other, but a dialogue with the audience as well, using visual language. This means characters are exposed be it mouth or entire head, in order to emote to the audience. In order for viewers to see the all important emotional states of these characters in the moment. When the character of Lady Death or DC comic’s Starfire wear almost nothing, it is sex appeal for the sake of the predominantly male audience. When Clark Kent is depicted with glasses and remains unrecognized, it is an upholding of golden age (of comics)tradition, essentially a wink and a nod to the viewer.

 These are soft violations of the fourth wall. The fourth wall defined as an imaginary wall that keeps performers or characters from recognizing or directly addressing the viewer in narrative. In my own graphic novel work, The Beautiful Roses part III: The Spirit Force in the final panel the three characters are spaced equally apart and are as much
posing for the viewer as they are inhabiting space in that world. Not only is there a convergence between the viewer’s reality and that of the setting, it converges with that of the artist. The artist’s skill level and chosen media affects what is possible to portray within the fiction. As a graphic novelist, I endeavour to transfer my imagination onto the page without being constrained by a lack of skill. Nevertheless, human bias or practical use of time makes elements of fiction seem unreal. For instance, more time is often spent detailing the main characters compared to the supporting cast out of time constraints as well as artist favouritism. Artists are not immune to preferring one design over another or being inspired to different degrees, which easily causes discrepancy in the illustrative quality of various elements of the fictional reality. On the other hand, graphic novels are immune to discrepancies of continuity caused by living actors aging past their roles or dying.

Narrative art not only converses with the reality of the viewer and the artist, but also that of wider society. Art has the power to influence and be influenced by wider society. A pertinent example arethe rules of censorship and target audience dictated by western culture taking a degree of creative control out of the artist’s hands regarding sex, violence and nudity. Another example is the familiar geometrics of architecture, culture, medium and relationships from which the artist can never truly be liberated, yet strives to remix in the pursuit of originality. Even within speculative or futurist work the creative mind is bound by precedence. The most obvious example of this is the defaulting to humans or obvious human stand-ins in fantasy art, or for mythical beasts to be based on real world animals. These elements are recycled to this day, Chimerae, Elves, Fairies, Pegusi etc. The familiar is safe and unchallenging in terms of marketability and the raising of consciousness. The same goes for the adherence to three spatial dimensions. How would a world of four, five or fifty spatial dimensions appear illustrated on a two dimensional plane like paper or a canvas? In a setting which allows for alternate realities, what justification is there for staying 3D? Looking toward the insightful drawings of artists like Richard Perry, who aims to explore additional dimensions as proposed by physicists, or the abstract art of Victor Pasmore which attempts to leave conventional form behind are great starting points for inspiration, but the ultimate goal in my practice would be to conceive of an abstract realities completely divorced from what came before.

The paradox of what lies beyond reality features in my work, to which I present a simple solution. I cut away the paper around the entity escaping reality, so it appears to be frozen in negative space, which requires another paradox to escape. Thus the (lack of) physical substance of the paper becomes an extension of comic reality. This avant garde depiction of what lies beyond would be difficult to reproduce with bulk printing, so once again production issues limit experimentation.

The viewers’ inherent trust in what is shown to them forms the basis of one of the fundamental rules of narrative. That what is set in motion stays in motion until it is paid off. This holds true down to the smallest moves. A mistake young comic book artists make is the depiction of the in between moves of two plot points. These in between moves are wasteful because the construction of a comic reality is participatory; the reader’s brain will fill in the action between two panels. We don’t assume characters begin a scene out of nowhere, thus it is unnecessary to show how every character arrived to the scene. This keeps the pacing tight. The same applies to action. This increases the sense of impact. The viewer however, is entirely imagining the vast majority of a sequence – the in between move – based entirely on two prompts. A before prompt and an after prompt. In between these two points is a distance the viewer’s imagination has to fill. If the distance is too short, the pacing of the sequence is slower and lacks punch. If it’s too far, the reader is unable to connect the two events and will become confused as to what just happened, as a larger gap between two depicted events inevitably presents a more abstract and ambiguous reality in between.

An extreme example would be if a character were in an American corn field, in one panel, saying they wish to go to London, and then immediately in London the next. How did they get there? By making it so open to interpretation, anything from teleportation to walking, the sudden transition is left jarring and confusing even if the reader does conclude he travelled there by a conventional method. Sudden reversals of the reality audiences have come to expect are reserved for the plot twist. Typically both foreshadowed and done in a way that does not completely undermine the fantasy reality accepted thus far. “It was all a dream” being likely the most reviled and undercutting plot twist of them all. If twist it can be called, more like a total erasure of anything readers and viewers found to be of value in the work.

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