17 February 2007
For art's sake

So, what’s more important … the artwork or the writing? As questions related to comic books go, it’s one of the big ones. The easy (or at least the politic) answer is that neither is more important than the other and that, without either, you don’t have a comic book. I’d certainly subscribe to that. But I’d go further.

I think it’s the writing which builds loyalty to a title and keeps a reader coming back to buy successive issues but it’s the artwork which sells a title, particularly a new title, to a new reader. Just as books are undoubtedly judged by their covers, so first-time buyers will judge comics by their artwork.

This is important. And it’s especially important just now because so many comic book artists – both mainstream and independent – seem more inclined than ever to experiment with new styles of artwork – new styles that may not necessarily be good for the comic.

Following tradition

There is a style of artwork which is peculiar to comics, particularly super hero comics. I don’t know who deserves the credit for first popularising it but it was certainly honed to precision by Jack Kirby and has been used and developed by countless artists since, up to and including Jim Lee. For ease of reference, let’s just call it the traditional style.

It’s instantly recognisable … characters for whom every muscle is clearly defined; characters who, even when ordering a cup of tea, stand with their legs suggestively planted some distance apart, their arms waving dramatically in the air, hands clenched into fists or pointing accusingly at something somewhere in the middle distance, their faces permanently contorted in rage or surprise.

It’s comic book art. We’re familiar with it. We’re comfortable with it. We can see it reduced to the size of a thumbnail, printed out of context in a Sunday newspaper or blown up to several hundred times its true size by Roy Lichtenstein. We still recognise it as belonging to the comic book medium. It’s become traditional. And no reader is ever going to walk away from a comic because its style is traditional.

Stepping out

So why should any artist choose to work in any other style? Well, in the best cases, the artist has simply chosen a style which is better suited to the subject matter. An increasing number of comics refuse to be slotted neatly into the super hero genre and, the more different the material, the less appropriate the traditional comic book style will be.

The underground comics of the 1960s and 1970s, for example, would not have worked if the characters had all sported bulging muscles, masks and capes. The surreal and psychedelic art of the time, typified by Robert Crumb, perfectly captured the anti-establishment ethic and, whether or not the artists actually produced these works in a state of drug-addled delirium, it certainly helped that the reader could believe they did.

Similarly, Rick Veitch’s use of a 1940s artistic style for the flashback sequences in Alan Moore’s “Supreme: the Story of the Year” is successful. Those sequences evoke the appropriate feeling of nostalgia, even before the first word is read.

Anatomy of a crime

With some comic books, however, the subject matter simply cries out to be illustrated in the traditional style. In these cases, using a different artistic style merely raises the suspicion that the artist doesn’t have the necessary technical competence to do it “properly”. Is that a valid reason? I guess it can be. Just about.

James O’Barr’s “The Crow” is a good example of a comic book which tries to emulate the traditional style but, sadly, fails. Whilst its atmosphere may have made “The Crow” a cult classic, panel after panel shows that the artist’s ability to depict human anatomy is severely limited. It’s difficult to read “The Crow” without wishing O’Barr had either hired another, more proficient artist or adopted a style more within his abilities.

But worse than the artist who tries and fails to draw in the traditional comic book style is the artist who puts his own artistic pretensions before the needs of the story; the artist who applies a highly personal or stylised approach to a traditional comic book which would so clearly have benefited from being drawn in the traditional style. It’s understandable that an artist should want to push the boundaries of what has been done before. It’s also vital, however, that he recognises and adheres to those parameters which make the genre what it is.

Inappropriate suggestions

For my money, since the majority of comic books are super hero comics, it follows that most should be drawn in the traditional style. Attempts to use other styles seem, on one level or another, doomed to fail.

Take Alex Ross’ art, for example. I’m a huge fan of his covers. His oils glow with a radiance which – at its best – seems to imbue his art with an almost religious quality. But are they suited to sequential art? When I read “Kingdom Come” or “Marvels”, I am struck by two things. Firstly, that each and every panel is exquisitely beautiful. Secondly, that the “formality” of the painting robs the characters of any real sense of movement, of immediacy, of ... well, life.

Mike Mignola’s “Hellboy” is another example. I’ve lost count of the number of times I picked up and decided not to buy a “Hellboy” comic book. I knew the title was highly regarded but as I gazed at page after page of simple line drawings, characterised not by detail but by those trademark flat slabs of black ink, I couldn’t escape the thought: “What’s so clever about that?” It has been argued that there is a quality about the art which is reminiscent of the German expressionist films of the 1930s but, frankly, that’s not what I’m looking to buy.

And as for the mixed bag of artistic styles scattered throughout Neil Gaiman’s “Sandman” series ... well, that just illustrates my point about the importance of the writing. I’m sure the artists would argue that there are good reasons why they chose to use the untidy, spidery styles which characterise, for example, Volumes 7 (“Brief Lives”) and 9 (“The Kindly Ones”) but – as a reader – I bought them because of Gaiman’s track record and in spite of the artwork, not because of it. Those books just don’t look like they’re supposed to and, I’m sorry, but no – that’s not a compliment.

Staying within the lines

There is a place in the comic book industry for different and innovative artistic styles and, when working on innovative titles, artists should be encouraged to experiment with them just as writers should be encouraged to experiment with subject matter.

But, please, if you’re drawing a super hero story (or something which is so similar to a super hero story as to make next to no difference) … take a lead from the likes of Jack Kirby and Jim Lee. The traditional style of comic book art didn’t become traditional by accident. It happens to be the best suited to the genre.

[The substance of this article first appeared in a slightly different form at Comic Avalanche on 23 March 2005 and is reproduced by kind permission of Mr Avalanche. The views and opinions expressed in this column are entirely those of the author. If you wish to agree or disagree with any of the views expressed in this column, please leave your comments in the Forum].