“Understanding Comics” by Scott McCloud – Blog #5

What I quickly began to enjoy about Scott McCloud’s “Understanding Comics” was how it was presented, and the self-encouraging humor it had about itself.

I say self-encouraging, because although the comic made several jokes about itself and the presentation of comics, none of it was necessarily self-deprecating. It all was made with the understanding that comics, their limitations, their styles and what exists beyond their panels is not something to be ashamed about, but rather are things to appreciate and poke affectionate fun.

Before I go on, I should probably admit a few things: I am an avid fan of animation, and have been ever since I was a young child. My first drawing – aside from a cat with nine legs (and I’ll maintain to this day that my 2-year-old self was simply attempting to draw the cat in motion) – was Ariel from Disney’s “The Little Mermaid.” By growing up in what many now call the animation renaissance of the of 1980s, it became a primary passion in my life that continues today with works from Don Bluth, Hayao Miyazaki or Pixar.

So with that grounding in the world of moving pictures, I have an avid appreciation for comics as well. In many ways, I mirrored McCloud’s early sentiments in his book about the western cultural depreciation of comics as competent story-telling devices or art. But as mentioned before, he did it in such a charming way.

The first hint of his tongue-and-cheek approach (aside from the short and sweet introduction punchline) began on page 24. “This is not a pipe” is a very familiar piece of work from all my art history experience and dedicated visits to art museums, and he did well to connect it to the dilemma of comic books.

“Do you hear what I’m saying? If you do, have your ears checked, because no one said a word.”

Moving on, another presentation of this dilemma I appreciated occurred much later on page 48, when McCloud told the story of the artist and writer coming together to make the greatest piece of storytelling of all time. I found myself emphathizing for each during their long, hard roads in becomming artisans of their craft, then giggle at the bottom punchline when the two stared at each other with a broad, empty expanse between them and large questionmarks over their heads.

This brought me more and more into thinking, and I stayed glued to the text to the very end. Later on, I greatly appreciated the differences and comparisons to eastern and western comic styles, since I too have noticed the differences but did not realize it could be graphically represented in… well, graphs. I resolved to try grading comics myself with this method in the future.  After this, I also noted the publication date of 1993 of McCloud’s book, and quickly recalled many comics and works of animation that have appeared since then. One that specifically came to mind was the recent blockbuster “V For Vendetta,” which many may be surprised to know was derived from what western cultures call a “graphic novel,” or what I like to think of as a way of them to say “so not a comic book.”

Another example I thought of which he actually directly mentioned was “Akira,” which later became a very successful movie adaptation in Japan in 1988, but I was not sure whether it had made its way into the States by 1993. A quick imdb search told me that it did not see wide American release until 2001, so no.

I bring this up because both of these movies, while nestled in their social niches, were still commercial successes in the United States, a place where comic books are only considered for young boys – as McCloud lamented – and only depict grown, muscular men in tights. While this may be true in many ways in western comics, other areas of the world have evolved differently, which proves to me that comics are a limitless media when it comes to depicting art and writing – the difference is how the creators choose to present it, and how the readers open their own minds to receive it.

I look forward to reading more of McCloud’s “Understanding Comics,” because it at times coincides so well with my own feelings on the subject.

Understanding Comics, Scott McCloud- Blog Reflection

What I loved most about this read is the format of the book Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud. I am so sick of spending hundreds of dollars on textbooks and immediately wanting to shoot myself in the head upon reading them. As English majors we are taught to look outside of the box, to be creative and abstract, yet we are forced to read the most incredibly boring texts. This book takes what it examines and puts it into use. I never really was exposed to comics other than the Sunday paper as a child. When I got sick last year I watched almost all three seasons of The OC and realized through the geeky character of Seth that there really was a large comic book following, but even still I don’t think it really drove home to me that the entire genre had been classified and defined so thoroughly.

When defined as the juxtaposition of images to convey a message to viewers, I can see how relevant the history of sequential picture manuscripts and hieroglyphics are to comics. The fact that comics are so broadly defined is essentially what McCloud finds so wonderful about this genre. It isn’t limited to just pictures or just texts, or just the combination of both. Comics aren’t just cartoons or limited to fantasy or science fiction and they aren’t created for any specific age group as one may typically assume. Comics are an entire medium of graphic artistry used to visually and mentally stimulate readers and create reactions. Restrictions are thin and tools are vast, McCloud exclaims “No schools of art are banished by our definition, no philosophies, no movements, no ways of seeing are out of bounds!”

McCloud is careful to convey the aspect of freedom involved in comic creation. Comics allow for the creation of concepts and ideas that are concrete and abstract. The specific combination of language, images, and icons can leave interpretations to be anything from implicit to ambiguous, realistic to supernatural, obvious to complex, physical to interpretive. McCloud explains “it’s the unifying properties of design that make us more aware of the page as a whole, rather than its individual components”. We learn how subjective approaches to comics, the use of symbols, as well as appealing to the senses, helps make the art of comics visible as well as expressive in graphic design.

Photopia

Well, first off, Photopia did not manage to make me cry; however, it did leave me depressed, which is an accomplishment in itself. I found myself easily frustrated by the site. I didn’t want to cheat, so I labored on. The most difficult pages for me to get through were the Wendy/dream themed ones. I don’t think I ever want to type “Go north/south/east/west” ever again. I was also frustrated by the scifi theme that so starkly contrasted with the more normal narrative pages, but I came to appreciate them once I learned where they came from.

As for the story, it did make me sad. I had a feeling something bad would happen to Alley when she was young. Darwin didn’t seem to be working overtime for a little girl who jumps in a pool to check out if it looks different from underwater. The car accident was sad and senseless. The little pieces of Alley’s waking life were all happy. It’s easy to imagine her date the following Saturday if she had not gotten into the wreck, or everything turning out differently if she had gone to the dance as opposed to babysitting. The one piece of the story that bothered me was the photopia itself. Alley’s parents note that she seems enamored by it as a baby, but it led to her having strange and unpleasant dreams all of the time, along with the creepy one of her talking to the older and cursed version of herself. Would Alley’s dreams have been left uncorrupted if she didn’t have the photopia? Or was it inevitable? It struck me that the thing her parents bought to comfort and inspire her ended up contributing to the tale of her demise.

Although I was frustrated by navigating the site, I did appreciate the little witty comebacks they had at the ready. At one point I had typed “kill”- Who?, the site politely asked, “me”, whereby the computer discouraged me from such senseless violence. Or if I tried to pick up the broken shovel, “The shovel is not useful anymore.” Well, thanks, I hadn’t realized that. That’s one aspect of interactive storytelling that really differs from regular old books… here, you have to work for it. I’ll admit, I did get frustrated, but the payoff when I would finally type the right thing (for once) and be rewarded with a paragraph was almost euphoric. It made me more aware of the story and more eager for details to emerge.

CYOA Map Reflection

My map crystallized my book’s choices and multiple paths. I think it adequately captured the multitude of endings, and easily shows what kind of endings they are using color-coding. My map illustrates how different chains of decisions are able to lead to different endings, and that the length of the decision-making chain does not have an impact on whether you end up with a good, bad or ambivalent ending.  It also shows what kind of choices are made in the book (when they can be categorized). This aids in comprehension of the flow of the novel that I chose.

Blog #2: While Reading

In order to capture an array of emotions, I’ll write part of this blog while experiencing the first half of Tuesday’s reading, My Boyfriend Came Back From the War.

On the very outset, which, what, where or when is not explictly offered for this reading, so I cannot say whether the war refers to the current war in Iraq, or war in years past. Regardless, one can still argue that the emotion tearing and impact can be very much the same. Onto the hypertext.

Written as I went along:

I keep checking every page for hidden, black-on-black text. So far, that does not seem to be the case.

I have somewhat cheated in the exploration of this site: maybe the hyperlinked text is meant to be chosen at random, but in order to maintain some sort of order, I have been mousing over each link, and quickly checking the URL as it displays on the Internet browser status bar. I attempt to click 117.html before 130.html, etc etc. Overall I have kept some semblance of numerical order. I will see whether or not that changes how it is experienced.

“Don’t kill.” Click. “Him.” Click. “Them.” Click. “ME”

Several new frames have appeared since starting this part of the homework. Four are now empty and sit at the bottom of the page. It is possible for a link on a separate part of the page to redirect its contents to any chosen frame, I will wait and see whether or not that happens. Maybe the whole of the page will be divided into HTML frames and left blank at the end.

Who are the tigers the page mentioned?

“I keep your photo here” — three clicks later, the photo disappears. I checked the black background for text, there still is none. Onto the next link, its destination is marked as 164.html. The other visible link is 169.html, but I will still maintain some sort of numeric order.

Why a 20th Century Fox logo?

I found an equivalent of a newspaper byline: the author’s e-mail address and an external link that is titled the Last Rest Net Art Museum. The copyright of this particular page by Olia Lialina is 1996. (That means it is not about the current Iraq War…)

Found a clock. The time is 9:16.

Another clock, the time is 6:02. Is it a.m. or p.m., I wonder?

Third clock, 1:57.

No more links left to click, a total of sixteen unevenly distrubted frames cover the webpage, in addition to a seventeenth frame that holds half the space, and has two pictures. One picture looks suspiciously like a window, but it is too heavily pixelated to conclusively tell.

Exercise done. What was the intent of this text?

My opinion is that it was meant to evoke an emotion response, hence why I recorded it as I did–so I could write done my immediate thoughts to each part of the piece. To me, the short, unpunctuated phrases, read to me like halting, hesitate or quiet conversation–conversation that was occasionally interrupted by sudden outbursts, as signified by capital letters.

But beyond interpreting the language and grammar of this piece, overall it seemed to be an unfolding maze. Perhaps my attempt to somewhat organize it was a good one, because each segment seemed to lead into the next as long as it is done in some sort of order. Still, there were several times when I could not track done the page that was to proceed another, and still other times when I would jump ahead to page 169 without reading 140-147. However, this overall did not seem to affect the understanding of the text, which read to me like something from an art museum: war can tear people apart, make them sad, make them angry, and put distance between life before and life after a war.