Showing posts with label Illustration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Illustration. Show all posts
" ... He was that good at it!"
"Women paid for him-- Fought for him-- Even begged for him... He was that good at it!"
Secret Weirdo
By Lauren BarnettWell, for a twenty-page minicomic that is filled with embarrassing stories about childhood, cat police, imaginary adventures, and an opening page offering “free hugs,” artist Lauren Barnett definitely set herself up for a difficult task. One of her biggest pet peeves as a female artist is having her comics be called cute. “I think ‘cute’ is a terrible way to describe someone’s work,” she exclaims in one of the first frames.
Besides the political cry for gender equality in the artistic community in the first few pages, Secret Weirdo is an eclectic collection of stories (or rather confessions) about the artist’s endeavors as a secret weirdo. Barnett’s comical, autobiographical telling of her obsessive entrepreneurial ventures as a child, unusual birthday present request, sick day science experiment with a frozen egg, kleptomania, and more are interrupted by imaginative pages with the Cat Police and imaginary Adventures of Master Driver and Navigirl—alter egos perhaps?
What most attracts me to her style is the lack of pretentiousness in her art. The cover is a gorgeous abstract watercolor that is both lovely and haunting; the inside frames are made up of simple, flat, black and white line drawings, messy bubbles, and scribbled text that give it what one reviewer noted as a "draw now, ask questions later" style, almost as if she is making it up as she goes along.
While her comics might seem cute superficially, there is clearly a darker, deeper level to her appropriated cute imagery; her “adorable” childhood stories are intersected with short, anxiety-filled frames about adulthood: debt, apartment searches, the dangers of diet soda. These glimpses into her personal, intimate realm are quickly interrupted by embarrassed sarcasm, or more Secret Weirdo stories from childhood, because the reality is far too daunting to dwell on. It leaves the reader wishing for more of this darkness, but still leaving us with the knowledge that there is something else behind the 'cuteness'.
In short, even though the stories are oddly specific and personal, the ambition, sarcasm, curiosity, anxiety, and nostalgia of a child and young woman resonated with me strongly, and I recommend this minicomic to other adults and teens that can handle the occasional F-bomb and sarcasm. Also, although the styles and content are completely different, I enjoyed Secret Weirdo for the same autobiographical, humorous, deeply personal snippets of Erika Moen’s DAR! Comic, so if you like Barnett’s work, read some of this, too!
Review by Abigail Chance
Nothing But a Dog
By Bobbi KatzIllustrated by Jane Manning
Dutton Children’s Books
Timmy and Lassie. Henry and Ribsy. Henry and Mudge. Shiloh, Sounder, Old Yeller. All great, classic stories. All beautiful illustrations of the so-called timeless bond between boy and dog. But where are the stories about girl and dog? There’s Because of Winn-Dixie and it, too, is a deservedly award-winning classic. But where is the rest of the canon? Finally, Opel and Winn-Dixie have worthwhile company with Nothing But a Dog, by Bobbi Katz, a picture book which manages to be both sophisticated and fun-loving.
Nothing But a Dog is told in the voice of a young girl who has a well thought-out argument about why when you long for a dog, nothing but a dog will do. Not parakeets, squirrels or kittens. Not soft, furry boots. There’s no activity fun enough to compensate, either. It is in the enumeration and illustrations of these allegedly lesser activities that the book really soars. In vibrant watercolors by Jane Manning, the girl “works at her own workbench with real tools,” rides a grown-up bike and climbs trees with a hat designating her Vice President of the Tree Climbers’ Club. (Another girl is president. A boy in the picture appears several branches below, but the girls are clearly the leaders). As the lively illustrations make clear, none of these activities are anywhere near the boring wasteland of time that the girl claims. But when you long for a dog, even playing the trumpet or going to monster movies (another wonderful illustration with the girls looking blasé and the boys terrified in their seats) can’t quell the longing.
The girl, although she remains unnamed, is real and appealing. She is calm, thoughtful, and adventurous, and knows how to present a convincing argument. Does she prevail in the end? Her parents, who make their only appearance on the last page, respond just the way one would hope to a daughter who knows how to vividly present her case.
Nothing But a Dog will appeal to both children and parents. While some children’s books about pets strive to present the sobering reality (it’s a lot of responsibility, kids!), this one is all about the joyous, free-form, muddy, messy, incomparable, unconditional love between child and dog. And, yes, it’s a lovely change to have that child be a girl.
Parents will be quick to notice that the book leaves out the darker side of dog ownership. Where are the chewed carpets, the scarred cabinets, the poor dead soles? (I refer to shoes and slippers.) The puddles? The vet bills? The forced marches through blizzards with small-bladdered pups? In case you’re wondering, yes, we did recently bring home a puppy in the middle of a Chicago winter. And that is precisely why I wanted to read this book. The magic of dog ownership was lost to me somewhere between February and the realization that the rugs were no longer salvageable. The wonder of the guaranteed happy greeting faded as I considered how our new friend resembled Tigger if Tigger were to be reincarnated as a weapon of mass destruction. I badly needed to recapture the messy magic. Perhaps it was a reflection of my mental state that before I read the book, I kept mistakenly referring to it as, “Anything But a Dog.” But meeting this lovely, strong girl and drinking in the illustrations has gone a long way towards reminding me why we all love a good girl-and-her-dog story.
Review by T. Tamara Weinstein
Graylight
By Naomi NowakNBM/Comicslit
The field of comics, also sometimes known as graphic novels, is dominated by male creators and readers. However, there's been increasing push in the last few decades by women to enter the field and make their mark. Though comics drawn by women are gaining popularity, most are classified as "indie," distributed by small publishers that may not be able to advertise or place volumes in prominent bookstores. Naomi Nowak's most recent graphic novel, Graylight, is designated indie, though it deserves to be appreciated by a wider audience.
Sasha is a German photographer on assignment somewhere in northern Europe, where the sun stays up all night in summer. She is a mysterious person, a foreigner. She attracts the attention of a journalist, and he invites her to join him on his quest to interview a famous recluse. The woman takes a disliking to both of them and refuses to grant him an interview. But Sasha leaves with her own prize—a book stolen from the house.
The woman's son follows her home to demand its return, and attraction sparks. But the reclusive old woman is no ordinary woman. She is a witch, with a grudge against women like Sasha, who play with men. When the witch's son takes an interest in Sasha, his mother takes action to destroy her. The witch's son is not Prince Charming, but he does save Sasha, changing his relationship with his mother. He asserts his independence, but in the end Sasha, true to form, leaves town to find some other hearts to break.
The plot summary is intriguing, yet its execution is not entirely clear. I found myself re-reading several times, trying to spot clues I may have missed. Plot is not Nowak's primary concern here—impressions of character and mood supersede coherency of plot.
Nowak is an artist who studied painting and illustration. She brings those skills to her comics, creating page after page of exquisite visuals. The colors are watercolor shades, ranging from pastel to flamingo and lime. The inking is both intricate and vague; symbolic or decorative flowers and crystals are detailed while faces and unimportant objects are only partially defined. Every knot in a sweater is drawn to give its precise texture but the shoes disappear into the background. Nowak focuses attention on what she wants the reader to notice. Pages where there's almost too much detail are deliberately overwhelming.
The style reminds me of the Japanese manga Paradise Kiss. Graylight is exquisitely rendered, and worth looking through for the art alone. Nowak's website contains examples from the book, a more compelling argument to pick it up than I could ever make.
Comics and graphic novels are not as easy to create and produce as some may think. Nowak has made something beautiful, if imperfect in its storytelling. I look forward to seeing her skills progress.
Review by Richenda Gould
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