Saturday, October 18, 2003
I have nothing but hate in my heart
I went to see Chester Brown (Yummy Fur/Louis Riel) and Ho Che Anderson (King) speak on Thursday night, they actually ended up reading from their works which was a lot less interesting. I suppose comic books or graphic novels, which are so graphics heavy, do not lend themselves well to public 'readings'.
Brown seem to belittle his own work, by glossing over its greater themes. He was a delightful, quiet man who had a nervous charm, but it worked to his disadvantage. I thought Riel was probably one of the better works released by Drawn and Quarterly in the last few years and certainly one of the most ambitious, it's unfortunate that wasn't conveyed to the audience. I suppose people lose interest if you just narrate 'action' strips ("and here Schultz jumps from a window" "and Schultz says 'lucky for me, someone left these boxes here'"). The material he choose didn't support his thesis very well (that Riel was a man first and foremost rather than a villian or a hero), and that's too bad as most people in the audience didn't seem to be the already converted.
Anderson fared a little bit better as he choose panels and dialogue that portrayed King as a man who had his weaknesses and failings. The best thing he said all night was (before he started research on this project) "I thought King was a pussy."
Neither really touched much on graphic novels/comics as a medium, which was unfortunate. I think people still think of comic books as funny books or strictly the domain of superheros, rather than as artworks. From the number of chuckles and people rolling their eyes in the audience, it seems that the majority of the people there that night, still feel that way.
It was good to see Chester Brown speak and be in the same room with someone whose work I truly admire, but I did leave feeling rather disappointed (I didn't end up with autograph I wanted), it was a trend in the night that would continue.
Sometimes it's the anticipation of an event that's the most satisfying. When you're anticipating something it always has the potential to be awesome, it always has the potential to be the best ever. If you anticipate a vacation, it will always have the potential of being the best vacation ever. If I anticipate game seven of the ALCS perpetually, the Red Sox will always have a chance to make it to the World Series. I suppose I should subscribe to the "nothing ventured, nothing gained" school of thought, but it's hard when you're treated to a night of disappointments.
I snuck out early during the Q and A and headed back to work and checked out the score in the Red Sox-Yankees game. The Red Sox were up by three runs and were 6 (Yankee outs) from the World Series when I left work. It's a 15 minutes bike ride from work to home and I thought "How much trouble can they get into in 1 and 1/2 innings?"
Knowing the Red Sox I should have known the answer.
I'm not sure why I like the Red Sox or why I've been waiting patiently 15-16 years to see them in the World Series. I suppose it could just be the effects of having spent plenty of summers in Maine. It doesn't matter that the Red Sox are from Boston, all of New England is Red Sox Nation. When you're 8 years old, who you are is determined as much by what you like as what you're like, so I latched on to the Red Sox. I thought that any team with this many supporters has to be a winner. My logic was obviously flawed.
I got home in 20 minutes, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up mix for a drunken roommate (Mike) and a drinking houseguest (Jessica), by that time the Red Sox were now facing a tied game in the bottom of the ninth.
I saw Mike Timlin retire the side in the bottom of the ninth, I saw Tim Wakefield retire the side in the bottom of the tenth, I also saw the Red Sox manage one scoring threat in two innings. I downed the equivalent of a pint of vodka in jello shooters to dull my senses. I knew they were going to blow out. Against my better wishes and due to the perpetual chiding of my anxious roommate, we headed out quickly to the bar hoping I'd be able to catch the Yankees at bat in the bottom of the eleventh. I was greeted by "your team lost". That realization every fall that the Red Sox season has ended is always followed by the thought that there is always next year.
I went to see Chester Brown (Yummy Fur/Louis Riel) and Ho Che Anderson (King) speak on Thursday night, they actually ended up reading from their works which was a lot less interesting. I suppose comic books or graphic novels, which are so graphics heavy, do not lend themselves well to public 'readings'.
Brown seem to belittle his own work, by glossing over its greater themes. He was a delightful, quiet man who had a nervous charm, but it worked to his disadvantage. I thought Riel was probably one of the better works released by Drawn and Quarterly in the last few years and certainly one of the most ambitious, it's unfortunate that wasn't conveyed to the audience. I suppose people lose interest if you just narrate 'action' strips ("and here Schultz jumps from a window" "and Schultz says 'lucky for me, someone left these boxes here'"). The material he choose didn't support his thesis very well (that Riel was a man first and foremost rather than a villian or a hero), and that's too bad as most people in the audience didn't seem to be the already converted.
Anderson fared a little bit better as he choose panels and dialogue that portrayed King as a man who had his weaknesses and failings. The best thing he said all night was (before he started research on this project) "I thought King was a pussy."
Neither really touched much on graphic novels/comics as a medium, which was unfortunate. I think people still think of comic books as funny books or strictly the domain of superheros, rather than as artworks. From the number of chuckles and people rolling their eyes in the audience, it seems that the majority of the people there that night, still feel that way.
It was good to see Chester Brown speak and be in the same room with someone whose work I truly admire, but I did leave feeling rather disappointed (I didn't end up with autograph I wanted), it was a trend in the night that would continue.
Sometimes it's the anticipation of an event that's the most satisfying. When you're anticipating something it always has the potential to be awesome, it always has the potential to be the best ever. If you anticipate a vacation, it will always have the potential of being the best vacation ever. If I anticipate game seven of the ALCS perpetually, the Red Sox will always have a chance to make it to the World Series. I suppose I should subscribe to the "nothing ventured, nothing gained" school of thought, but it's hard when you're treated to a night of disappointments.
I snuck out early during the Q and A and headed back to work and checked out the score in the Red Sox-Yankees game. The Red Sox were up by three runs and were 6 (Yankee outs) from the World Series when I left work. It's a 15 minutes bike ride from work to home and I thought "How much trouble can they get into in 1 and 1/2 innings?"
Knowing the Red Sox I should have known the answer.
I'm not sure why I like the Red Sox or why I've been waiting patiently 15-16 years to see them in the World Series. I suppose it could just be the effects of having spent plenty of summers in Maine. It doesn't matter that the Red Sox are from Boston, all of New England is Red Sox Nation. When you're 8 years old, who you are is determined as much by what you like as what you're like, so I latched on to the Red Sox. I thought that any team with this many supporters has to be a winner. My logic was obviously flawed.
I got home in 20 minutes, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up mix for a drunken roommate (Mike) and a drinking houseguest (Jessica), by that time the Red Sox were now facing a tied game in the bottom of the ninth.
I saw Mike Timlin retire the side in the bottom of the ninth, I saw Tim Wakefield retire the side in the bottom of the tenth, I also saw the Red Sox manage one scoring threat in two innings. I downed the equivalent of a pint of vodka in jello shooters to dull my senses. I knew they were going to blow out. Against my better wishes and due to the perpetual chiding of my anxious roommate, we headed out quickly to the bar hoping I'd be able to catch the Yankees at bat in the bottom of the eleventh. I was greeted by "your team lost". That realization every fall that the Red Sox season has ended is always followed by the thought that there is always next year.
