Monday, March 3, 2025

Catching Up With Jason Martin

Jason Martin is often hailed as one of the best writers in his sphere of comics, which is autobiographical & poetic observations. Indeed, I first became aware of him thanks to Papercutter #17, an issue of the dearly missed anthology that featured a number of different artists interpreting Martin's stories. However, I also greatly admire the spare economy of his line. He's an excellent example of someone with limited talent as a draftsman who nonetheless manages to maximize this with an assured understanding of cartooning itself. His use of gesture and ability to create atmosphere using a simple line make spending time with his gentle, thoughtful, and often amusing observations not only a pleasure, but even nourishing for the reader. 

John Porcellino is an obvious touchstone and influence for Martin, and he acknowledges this fact in one of his stories. However, Martin's Laterborn series is different from Porcellino's King-Cat Comics & Stories, because Martin is a different kind of writer and artist. Porcellino's line is distilled so far down to its essence that it borders on abstraction, yet it doesn't lose any of its expressive power. Martin's line is more rudimentary and earnest, but there's also something pleasant about the way he creates shapes. There's a consistency and intentionality in his visual language that complements his subject matter. While both artists delve into the poetic qualities of anecdotes, Porcellino's writing is often as spare as his line. Martin's eager effusiveness for living informs even the most quotidian of his anecdotes.


Life Lines is his second collection, drawing mostly from his zine series Laterborn and Black Tea. The latter series, he noted in his introduction, was started as a more spontaneous, sloppier attempt at making stories left over from Laterborn. It's a clever way of retaining a certain freshness and liveliness in one's line after the labor of crafting something more elaborate. (Julia Wertz does something similar.) Martin's approach to narrative is interesting, because he retrofits a new narrative onto previously unconnected stories with a unifying theme. The themes are simple, like "Cedar Street," which clearly all seem to take place during the same time period, living in a particular place. No one anecdote stands out, but there's a warmth to them tinged with a slightly bittersweet feeling in retrospect. Some of them are more cohesive narratives, like "First Tour Comix," a document of a tour of a two-man band on the West Coast. Playing live, traveling, meeting other musicians, and trying to find a place to stay are all recalled with fondness. 


The second section, "Changing Gears," is probably the most ambitious set of stories in terms of scope. There's a story about Carolyn Cassady and her old San Francisco house, a touchstone for him given that her book got him into her husband Neal's famous Beat adventures. Another is about visiting a friend at a zen center and the aftermath, and several others are about work encounters with surprising personal outcome. Above all else, Martin seems most interested in stories about connection. The third section hits on stories from his childhood, from being born deaf in one ear to early attempts at making art with others. There's a chapter dedicated to Portland, a city that means as much to him as San Francisco, that includes convention tabling stories, friendships, and the overall vibe of the city. The rest of the book focuses on finely-tuned portraits of people he met, small but meaningful moments, and other places that had significance in his life. There are moments of playful, almost silly humor, but what sets Martin's comics apart is his sense of wonder. 


Martin also included the latest issue of Black Tea (#7), which once again featured stories that both dovetailed into singular & memorable moments and pleasantly emphasized the small joys experienced along the way to those moments. The best was a story about his childhood devotion to Late Night With Conan O'Brien, which eventually led to him getting a last-second seat at a taping. Another story about being a page turner for a piano player for a musical. Here, Martin's attention to the smallest of details in this most minor anecdote is what brought it to life. While the longer collection of his work was enjoyable, Martin's comics are best enjoyed in smaller doses like this, especially with the mix of longer stories and one-page anecdotes and gags. 



Finally, Covers #2 is a comic featuring stories about musicians. What these stories displayed was Martin's ability to distill information into a compelling narrative, even if it's the smallest of anecdotes. In three short stories, Martin zipped off compelling accounts of playing a birthday party gig for Keanu Reeves, one of the band members nearly getting killed during 9/11, and how a legendary guitar brought bandmates Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore together. These moments had little to do with music but everything to do with the life of a musician, and it's understanding that process that makes Martin unique. The same was true in adapting some stories from Mike Watt, especially one about a friend who went to great lengths to help him. The final story, involving an anecdote about an unusual song by Neil Young, was all about music and the process of creation in particular. Martin strips away the glitz and ego and gets down to the art and relationships, and this is emblematic of his work as a whole.