Further Web Comic Thoughts

I tell you, doing creative things when you're at your lowest mental ebb is a fascinating exercise. There's this constant play between wondering whether what you're doing stinks because other things are depressing you or because they're actually terrible. I genuinely have no idea which is true. All I know is that for the last two or three days I've been collecting anything that can be used for my forthcoming idea and trying to organise it. The main thing I've noticed? By taking an idea I'm not precious about, much like I was with "The Bombardier's Eyes", I'm willing to play about and experiment with style a bit more. I have no idea how this is going to play out, but as I'm aiming for approximately daily updates which i can amass in advance (about three weeks must be sorted before I start posting it) I'm trying new approaches for each possible episode. Some will work and some won't. It's fascinating to see how much I'm leaning to some styles over others though. I'm intrigued to see how this will play out.

The other thing low self esteem is showing me is that when I found all the notes for this story in my old work book - written in another bad patch - I'm surprisingly impressed by bits of it, whilst also a lot easier on the things that don't work. My problem is always going to be closeness to whatever I'm working on. When I'm close to it, then I can't see it at all objectively. Once I keep telling myself this repeatedly, maybe one day I'll actually believe it?

Idle Thoughts...

So... if I want to take this whole blog and drawing and minicomics thing a bit more seriously, I'm going to have to start pondering some seriously scary changes to how I do things. In chats with friends and neighbours and friendly neighbours, the idea of a web comic came up. Now... this is a problem to me, because web comics strike me as not the sort of think you start thinking to do, but kind of come about fully formed. Well the successful and good ones at any rate: Hark a Vagrant!, Cat and Girl, Nedroid etc etc. These are things which came about because the creator had a strong idea and then put it down on paper. But I don't really have as strong an idea... as such.

I have an idea for a sort of loosely connected series of sequential narratives though. I have tonnes of short story ideas and have always struggled to find a way to illustrate/ write them. Am wondering about some sort of loose framing narrative for such things and just... get them out. Not to be the next great web comic, because I doubt I'll ever be that. No. Instead so I can get things on here regularly which I have created. I'm doing well at updating this place regularly but, as you have no doubt noted, with the work of other people rather than my own. I'm still very cautious about my own skills and in my  brief attempts today to cook up some ideas I'm already being too harsh on myself.

But, and this is the real reason why I'm writing this, I need to get the slightly off attempts together to form a slightly better whole... and maybe just to see that my initial struggles did get better. After all, by turning off the interior editor and critic inside myself, I got "The Bombardier's Eyes" finished. Maybe it's time to turn that to other forms as well...

The pondering continues.

Ionicus Part One: The William Kimber Covers

A few days ago, my good friend Nick of the blog A Pile of Leaves mentioned picking up a book of ghost stories because of the cover. Before I even saw what the book was I already kind of suspected what it *might* be. Knowing enough of Nick's taste and his description of the title in question I thought, rightly, that this may well be a William Kimber book with an Ionicus cover. Books which I have something of a long standing fondness for.

Now I've been collecting ghost stories for about seven years now - it's an interesting hobby because, unlike crime fiction, it's frequently about picking collections which have lots of doubles (at the very least) of stories you already own because of the odd one or two you don't... and all because that little, neglected gem may end up being something truly special. And during my detective work in trying to find these things I soon realised I had a particular niche in the genre all to myself - Kimber.

Most fans of supernatural fiction really don't rate William Kimber collections or editions. They think them a bit bloodless and lifeless. The Ionicus covers particularly figure highly in this disdain, possibly because for a generation of book collectors he's an artist who really seems deeply linked with PG Wodehouse reissues. They find him a bit limp and polite and - almost literally - a little bloodless, which is true if you're after lurid covers. But if, like me, you don't mind a bit of the softly sinister to go with the ridiculously overblown covers then they're an absolute treat. And besides, the fact that Kimber published so many books by R Chetwynd Hayes should be a giveaway - he's also often thought of as a little bloodless and "safe" compared to someone like, say, Ramsey Campbell or Robert Aickman (this is a little unfair: "The Day That Father Brought Something Home" is one of the greatest bits of supernatural fiction ever in my opinion). I will admit a lot of Kimber books are a bit... lacking in places, but I have such a fondness for them because of the design that I snap them up whenever I see them.

This is my collection of Ionicus Kimber covers - I will do a few more Ionicus entries during the week, particularly explaining why I love him and his art so much. In the mean time - enjoy!

Fairly obviously this last book is not particularly supernaturally themed, but it still does have a rather splendid Ionicus cover. So in it goes! More of these later this week hopefully....

How To Deal With Criticism the James Kochalka Way...

From the back of "Little Mister Man" #1 (November 1995)

Discontented Peggy, and How She Was Cured

When I posted sundry scraps from "Mr Teedles" the other day, my friend and neighbour Gavin - of the most excellent Arkhonia blog - paid me the greatest of complements: he thought I'd made it up myself. I can see why - I do go out of my way to find books and ephemera of such mind boggling oddness so I can make my own fake books and films and the like seem just that *little* bit more likely. so it seems fitting that Gavin encouraged me to buy "Discontented Peggy" from Todmorden market



It's an odd little thing - very obviously an "improving" playlet for young ladies. One of over 500 of the things as well! Part of me wants to collect them all (in some sort of early twentieth century melodrama take on Pokemon, maybe) but i know the wife will have stern words about such things...



i'm rather delighted, by the way, that the publisher has a "play department". my mind wanders off into a wonderful image of a whole office of workers dedicated to improving the minds of the young through the medium of sentimental nonsense



I like how productions seem to be mainly aiming at "a decent "fairy glen"..." rather than something with any degree of competence. And I'm also quite fond of this too:"don't let "Peggy's" face look rosy in the "glen scene". It must be made up to look white and woe-begone." Bless...



Have any of you met anyone who's actually been made to swallow Castor oil? Is this entirely the sort of thing popular culture of the late nineteenth century to late seventies British comics have propagated for generations... is there a thesis in this at all?



Peggy: "... Nurse is a horrid old cross-patch, and I hate her."
Nurse: "... I'll punish Peggy when I find her. She richly deserves punishment."
And thus the circle of violence continues... how very sad.



Is "lightly tripping the lea" some kind of euphemism?



Nothing much to report here beyond yet more lea tripping...



My favourite line here is "so trip we a measure in happy content" which smacks of the sort of thing someone writing verse comes up with when their existing line of poetry doesn't scan quite well enough.



More tripping here, but also the promise of "a dish of dewdrops". I think most organic shops sell these nowadays, as well as larger branches of Waitrose.





I'll leave these pages as they are, but all I can say is that one-two emotional punch of "Peggy's Song of Repentance" and "Sprite's Song" must have overwhelmed contemporary audiences. Very popular in Sammy Davis Jr's Vegas set as well...



And then it all ends in dancing. I don't know if it's just me, but I think the ambiguity of some of the lyrics here remind of me of the breathless outpouring of imagination in Dylan's "Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands". Moving.



Fairy plays were obviously very popular weren't they? I'm also quite amused that the gauge of success of these plays was how easy the things were to repeat... Meanwhile "Cruel Jack Frost" seems unduly precious about his "artistic pictures". Always was a prima donna that one...

And obviously, before we leave these pages, I think it fairly obvious that there is no better title for anything ever is "Princess Jonquila's Necklace". In fact I think everyone should be called Jonquila... or failing that the majestically suggestive Violet Methley.



And finally...."The Truth About Tarts - if you are looking for a fairly short children's play which is full of good material you will find what you want here. This play is packed with good situations and cannot fail to get over." No further comments are necessary I feel.

Bottle Rocket

Sometime in late 1999 I found myself facing the prospect of job loss for the very first time. My job as medical librarian had come to an abrupt end due to the closure of my department by the asshats who ran 3M. So one December morning I took myself round the job agencies of Nottingham in order to find a job (wasn’t successful as it happens – the next job was so awful, I decided to quit to do my MA in Cinema Studies instead) with the promise of an afternoon at the Broadway Cinema as a treat for my efforts. The second film I planned to see was “The Straight Story”, because I’d liked David Lynch ever since I first saw “Twin Peaks” on my crappy back and white TV and I was amused at the prospect of him making something approximating a family film. And the first? Something I’d read about in the paper called “Rushmore”.

 

Let’s get “The Straight Story” out of the way first. Of course it’s great and it contains one of my very favourite scenes in cinema ever – the one above if you’re interested – which I always used when teaching film and, in retrospect, probably made me wonder whether my brain was wired up in a way where I should study cinema in some way. But that’s not why we’re here. We’re here about “Rushmore”. I can’t locate the exact moment in the film that it happened, but certainly it became very apparent very quickly that “Rushmore” was going to be something extraordinary. If I was to hazard a guess I’d say it was the opening montage of Max’s clubs to the Creation’s “Making Time” – exactly what kind of madness was this film going to be?

 

Up until that moment, if I’d ever idealised about making a film it was going to be along the lines of “Gregory’s Girl”. It’s still my very favourite film of all time because of the performances, the writing and the absolute love of the characters – it basically sets itself the task to be the ultimate film about teenage love and manages to say everything (and more!) about it. I adore it and would be proud to make anything that made someone feel even the tiniest iota of the joy that this film brings me. But it’s almost entirely about the content… Bill Forsyth would go on to make at least two films (“Local Hero” and “Housekeeping”) which would be visually interesting, but “Gregory’s Girl” really isn’t it apart from the moments in the park late in the film. But “Rushmore”? Somehow this Wes Anderson bloke had managed to peek inside my head and find a way to put it up on the screen.

Mainly this was through the music. I’ve always sort of heard music visually – not synaesthesia as such, but more using it to soundtrack the images in my head which I’d then end up mentally editing to fit the music. Being a solitary type, as soon as I had a Walkman I was taking it off for long walks and somehow mentally fitting what I saw to the music and using it as an adjunct to the stories I would be working on in my head. I always thought I was a little mad for doing this, but suddenly here was a film maker pretty much using the music as I did – and in fact constructing the images to the music in exactly the same way as I had been imagining doing. When I listened to the soundtrack that I had rushed out to buy in between the showings of “Rushmore” and “The Straight Story”, I realised that what I remembered of the film was about 80% the music and how Anderson used it. And visually the way he framed the images, the care he put into setting up the images almost as if on a stage, the way in which the camera seemed to glide through shots both fluidly and statically. This was how I’d do it. This was exactly how I’d dreamed of doing it.

And much as I loved all this, I also knew that the film was fatally flawed especially in narrative terms. Much as I love Max’s theatricals and how they sort of bring out his fantasy world into the real world, the film sort of stumbles too much with them as if it doesn’t know how to fit them into the narrative. And every film Anderson has made has been in some way somewhat lacking as a story – but visually? Textually? Musically? Sonically? Perfect. Which is why watching “Bottle Rocket” for the first time was such a revelation.

 

Something that has always fascinated me is the juvenilia of artists and writers – those moments where you can see the talent they’d become in the midst of something where they’re still struggling to find their voice. Perfect examples of this for me is the works of the authors Scarlett Thomas and Jonathan Coe. The former’s crime novels and “Popco” are fun but ultimately flawed books and it’s not until “The End of Mister Y” that she really manages something extraordinary. And similarly the leap from his first three novels, which are always interesting but a little flat, to the masterpieces of “What a Carve Up!” and “The House of Sleep is a massive one (sadly, Coe falls flat with the awful “Rotter’s Club” where at least Thomas’ flawed but challenging “Our Tragic Universe” is trying something a little new). Similarly the leap from “Bottle Rocket” to “Rushmore” is incredible.

“Bottle Rocket” is like a tentative demo – similar tropes, scenes and set ups to what would follow but just not quite there. The camera is a little restless and never seems to settle for long enough; the edits are too quick; you never know the characters quite enough; the music is almost right for each scene but just not quite there; James Caan’s Mr Henry is like a rough draft of the roles Bill Murray would make his own. The ghost of what to come is just there in every scene. And that’s both fascinating and endlessly encouraging to me. To see someone who I consider a great artist, for all their faults, trying to find his way as a film maker but not quite getting there is just what I need as encouragement. I’m not saying I’ll ever be someone as talented as Anderson (or Coe or Thomas) because it’s very, very unlikely… but I can try.

Three years ago I was still beating myself up for not finishing anything and now I have three comics and a novel to my name… that they’re not quite there yet is by the by. Going back to Nottingham, people who followed me on livejournal will know that about seven years ago I got about 80% of the way through a novel about one Warren Bond but gave up. I’ve long since decided that Warren’s natural home is going to be through one of my comics. It’s going to start off as a heavily fictionalised version of my life in Nottingham and initially use the peg of second hand record shops a la “High Fidelity” before jettisoning it to focus on the characters themselves. I want to make you think I’m telling one kind of story, and then veer it off into something wilder without you really noticing the join. I want to tell stories about the people who neither belong to cultures or subcultures, but those who fall in between the cracks… the lonely, the shy, the inarticulate, the boring.

But I’m not able to tell that story yet – partly because music is involved heavily in what I have planned for Warren, Hector, Dave and Jen and I can’t work out how to do that in graphic terms… and partly because I’m just not skilled enough yet to tell sequential stories. Odd little short stories and ideas punctured by illustrations? Oh yes. But something of heft and weight? Not yet. This is why “Whatever Happened to Cosmo Mandinsky?” has never materialised despite being promoted on the back of the first issue of the Common Swings (it’ll probably end up being the dry run for whenever I try Warren… my first attempt at a proper, sequential art narrative). But will I give up? I hope not. Because things like “Bottle Rocket” show to me that even people I deeply, deeply admire don’t come out as fully formed talents. They take their time too. I just need to learn patience…

The Unbearable Lightness of Being...

...A 1920's bounder. This is me in my conflicted youth, trying desperately to become a character in a Wodehouse novel. I never much cared for the modern world...