Showing posts with label ben wright-heuman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ben wright-heuman. Show all posts

Monday, January 8, 2024

45 Days Of CCS, #39: What The Gnomes Know

What The Gnomes Know is an anthology centered around artists from CCS and the Columbus scene. There's a good mixture of both, and there are a number of artist-writer combos that are somewhat unusual for an alt-comics anthology, but it works to good effect here. What's interesting is that a couple of the collaborations are between partners. It was organized and selected by CCS grads Rainer Kannenstine and Ben Wright-Heuman, both of whom have a lot of different projects they've been involved in, both solo and in terms of collaborative efforts. It was edited and designed by Columbus mainstay Kelci Crawford. 


Writer Ian M. Klesch collaborated with Wright-Heuman on a post-apocalyptic story following an elder gnome navigating a ruined city, looking for parts. This is an elegantly-constructed story using a recording of the gnome's dead son to push the narrative, as we learn just what caused the apocalypse in the first place. Wright-Heuman's art is moody and stylish, but it pushes the frantic action of the second half of the story clearly. It's a great use of world-building to set up a character-driven narrative with a satisfying resolution that still leaves the reader wanting more. 

Catalina Rufin's "Gnome Pizza" was cleverly assigned right after that story, and it's the contrast that make both stories stand out. Using a delicate line and extensive use of watercolors, Rufin establishes an interesting narrative when a woman moves into an apartment that was originally gnome territory, and then turns the plot on its head by turning what could have been a conflict into an appeal for connection from a desperately lonely person. 


Writer C.M. Clemence and artist Kelly Swann offer up what seems to be a typical D&D-inspired quest by two gnomes seeking out their friend. They acquire allies along the way until the rescue, but the swerve at the end that reveals what's really happening is clever. Swann's art shot straight from her scratchy pencils is the highlight here. Eddie J. O'Neill and Kaz G.M. Lukacs collaborated on a story of a group of gnomes adopting a misfit kobold that's cute, but whose use of color feels garish throughout. Angela Boyle took a lot of risks with "Gnoir With A Silent G," a parody of detective tropes featuring a gnome. The big risk was making this illustrated text with a stylized font. There were just enough illustrations (and enough sequential art) to make this work, especially since the art belied the hard-boiled cliches of the lead character. Boyle's drawings are also lovely, with an effective combination of grit and delicate color. 


Alex Washburn's story about humans who can transform into gnomes was a mix of what felt like a personal story of frustration around identity and a ripping fantasy story involving the danger of possibly being turned into stone. Washburn's use of color was way over the top and would have looked better muted, but his expressive characters drawn in a thick line match up with their emotional natures. The collaboration between Erienne McCray and Kannenstine leans into the density of its colors in a deeply expressionistic manner, especially since so much of the story revolves around dark magic. However, it's still essentially a story about a mother and daughter's connection, and that's what ultimately gives the story its real impact in the end. 

The non-CCS stories included a clever entry from Jess Tweed about two friends dealing with dark magic in order to save someone else, and the clever way a seemingly iron-clad contract was dealt with. There's also a text piece written by Jack Wallace with moody illustrations by J.M. Hunter that's nearly unreadable because of its use of stylized text. The illustrations became almost incidental. Overall, it's a fairly strong anthology that could have toned down some of its use of color and has a wide variety of genre types despite revolving around a highly particular genre theme 




Thursday, September 1, 2022

31 Days Of CCS, 2021-22, The Index

Well, it took an absurdly long time to finish, but I'm declaring my 31 Days of CCS feature, dedicated to comics from students and graduates from the Center for Cartoon Studies, to finally be over. This is partly because with SPX coming up, I expect to get a whole bunch more soon. The list got long in part because I was slow, but also because new books kept coming out. Here's the entire list, with links to each individual review provided.



1. Denis St. John

2. Cuyler Keating

3. Masha Zhdanova

4. Mercedes Campos Lopez

5. Leda Zawacki

6. Sofia Lesage

7. Madi Baker

8. Meg Selkey

9. Maya Escobar

10. Faith Cox

11. Rebecca Schuchat

12. Mac Maclean

13. Daryl Seitchik

15. Erika Bloomdahl

16. Reilly Hadden

17. Violet Kitchen

18. Leeah Swift

19. Emil O Melia

20. Ross Wood Studlar

21. Kit Anderson

22. Annabel Driussi

23. Al Varela

24. Ashley Jablonski

25. Kori Michele Handwerker

26. King Ray

27. Robyn Smith

28. Jarad Greene

29. Kat Leonardo

30. Rachel Bivens

31. Josh Rosen

32. Less Than Secret anthology

33. Luke Kruger-Howard

34. Ben Wright-Heuman

35. Michael Sweater

36. Rust Belt Review Vol 1

37. Steve Theuson

38. Ian Richardson

39. Luke Healy

40. Aaron Cockle

41. Good Boy! Magazine


Friday, December 31, 2021

31 Days Of CCS, #32: Less Than Secret

I enjoy anthologies that are a true team effort. This is something that's one of the major first-year requirements at CCS, as students are split into teams to make an anthology in a particular style, like Golden Age adventure or romance comics or 90s style Shonen Jump manga work. Because most alternative cartoonists are solo acts, forcing this kind of collaboration can be useful and teach a lot of lessons. Less Than Secret is an anthology from several CCS grads and several other cartoonists. Beyond their contributions in terms of the stories they drew, many of the book's cartoonists had other duties related to publishing. 



CCS grads Rainer Kannenstine and Ben Wright-Heumann served as its publishers. They were there to make sure the book was on schedule, obtain funding and consider distribution. JD Laclede was the editor, working directly with talent and sequencing the stories. Erienne McCray did the design, while Kelci Crawford acted as the crowdfunding manager. Angela Boyle was an anthology consultant, which makes sense considering her years assembling the Awesome Possum anthology. That collective sense of responsibility on what was clearly a labor of love is present and strengthens the overall anthology. 

The theme here is cryptids, or animals that some people claim to exist but whose existence has never been proven. It's fitting that Steve Bissette, the master monster-maker, penned a funny intro explaining his interest in monsters from a young age. Crawford's "A Day In The Life Of Mothman" is played for laughs, as a woman is followed by the legendary creature, whose presence foretells potential disaster. However, she can sense him, and it allows her to prevent a guy from being killed by a car, avoiding a fight at a diner, and preventing her from eating a bad hot dog. Crawford's line is crisp and expressive, with a lot of grayscale shading to add weight to the page. 



McCray's comic about the "Fresno Nightcrawler" (essentially a big baseball with legs) is also played for laughs, as this cryptid is more ridiculous than scary. They added a nice touch having the Loch Ness Monsters as its roommate and Bigfoot taunt it. McCray's line is fluid and a nice match for the kind of dynamic silliness that this ridiculous creature (wearing a fedora, even!) demands. Wright-Heumann is a horror guy, and he did a sort of Western/fantasy fusion with a family of Elves fending off a group of chupacabra mysteriously attacking them. The ending is grimly clever. His scratchy line was appropriate for the subject matter, though the extensive use of grayscale was distracting at times. This was a story that cried out for color. 

I'm not crazy about comics that insert huge blocks of typewritten text, but Angela Boyle's cartooning is so sharp in her story of the odd little elwetritsch that it wasn't too distracting. Moreover, using that text as the main character's interior monologue actually made this a useful device, commenting on the comic set around it. Boyle manages to sneak an entire murder mystery into this little comic with an unassuming old woman and her strange "pet." Ian Klesch and Andrew Small's story about how a lycanthrope used a dating app to fool a woman into being his prey was funny and grisly. The figure drawing was crude at points in a way that was distracting, and some of that was due to over-drawing in an effort to bolster a shaky line. 


Rainer Kannenstine's piece about the Dover Demon went in yet another direction: how messing with weird cryptids is likely to bite you in the ass in horrible ways. It's the story of a bully who attacks the creature in the forest with a ball, then gets his head crushed in revenge. He used some digital effects in interesting ways, including a "syrup brush" for some of the background fills that added to the story's atmosphere. Jess Johnson had perhaps the silliest story in the book, as an emo kid is befriended by his sister's new boyfriend: "JD," or the infamous Jersey Devil. Johnson turned the creature into an actual hockey player and made this a romance/family story where everyone took JD's presence for granted. It's hard not to see Johnson's strong shojo manga influence, giving this a radically different look and feel from the other stories in the anthology. However, it's not a slavish adherence to the style; rather, it's a launching point into Johnson's own style. 

There's plenty of backmatter in the anthology, including full biographies and behind-the-scenes stuff that's somewhat interesting, but at 20 pages (compared to 90 pages for the rest of the book) it feels like a lot of padding. That said, the interviews asking each creator why they chose their cryptid, their creative methods, etc. was at least thoughtfully done. Overall, this is a breezy anthology that I wished had been a bit longer. 

31 Days Of CCS, #34: Ben Wright-Heuman

Ben Wright-Heuman is a highly versatile cartoonist, writing everything from gag strips about cosplay and comics conventions to horror to suspense thrillers. The Letters Of The Devil II: The Legacy of L is certainly in the latter category, and it's a sequel to his clever original about a cop and a childhood friend engaged in a game of cat-and-mouse. The titular L delivers letters to others giving up incriminating information about someone else, and Wright-Heuman keeps the reader guessing til the end about who the protagonist of the story is--or if there even is one. 


For the sequel, Wright-Heuman takes a bit of a page out of the Scream films and adds a distinctly meta element to the proceedings. This time, there is most definitely a protagonist: a first-year Criminology student named Malina who decides to study the case surrounding L, which had become a media sensation. In particular, L's obsession with truth and justice superseding the law resonated for many. She's aided by some inside info: her mother is chief of police, and the corrupt cop at the center of the first book worked under her. When one of her friends commits suicide when she receives a chiding letter from someone who appears to be L, it opens up a brand-new can of worms. 


Like any good author of a thriller, Wright-Heuman doesn't cheat with regard to clues; they're all hiding in plain sight, if you're willing to pay attention. One of the clever meta-elements of the book is that serial killer types like L tend to spawn copycats, In this case, it inspired something far beyond that, once again invoking supernatural elements as a tease but certainly using the trappings of cultists. The ending was a bit over-the-top (especially with regard to the cult leader), but then truth is usually stranger than fiction. That's how QAnon became a viral belief system; why not the cult of L?


Heuman is limited as a draftsman, but his storytelling is solid. His use of pacing, gesture, and character interaction was solid, and his characters were highly expressive. The use of red as a contrast color and as L's signature continued to be clever. However, I found the relentlessness of the greyscale shading to be a distraction. Rather than add a sense of weight to a page and filling in dead space, Wright-Heuman drowned the whole narrative in greyscale; it served as a distraction from his storytelling, rather than an enhancement. His storytelling is strong enough that this narrative simply didn't need it. Indeed, this book was a relentless page-turner thanks to his understanding of story structure, motivation, and how to swerve the audience without it feeling cheap. A simple and limited line should be embraced in this situation, because it will provide the easiest access to that first-line/best-line expressiveness that simplicity offers. I'll be intrigued to see how Wright-Heuman continues this particular story and what new directions he can find for it. 


Friday, December 22, 2017

Thirty Days of CCS #22: Ben Wright-Heuman & Andi Santagata

Ben Wright-Heuman’s another artist from the horror-suspense wing of CCS, and his Letters Of The Devil webseries was successfully kickstarted to book form. Wright-Heuman is an example of an artist who’s able to work around his limitations to produce a successful, engrossing narrative. In his case, his actual draftsmanship is just serviceable enough to get by. Some figures and drawings are better executed than others, and he’s able to execute things like gesture and body language well enough to get around other figure drawing problems. There are times when the drawings are a distraction, but Wright-Heuman makes up for that with a sharp script, strong storytelling and a clever use of color.


The story begins with a mysterious figure talking about justice and hypocrisy who delivers a letter written with red ink and sealed with wax bearing the letter “L”. The letter, also signed with that single initial, was delivered to a detective named Cedric and contained cryptic information regarding a potentially corrupt financier. When the detective takes the bait and investigates the claim (without his partner, oddly enough), a chain of events is sent into place as various other people received letters from the mysterious L, each one providing incriminating or interesting information about another person.


Wright-Heuman sets up a delicate structure in his plotline that leaves plenty of room for characterization. He keeps the reader guessing as to whom the true protagonist might be til the very end as the story gets murkier and murkier with each murder. There’s a sense in which every character is the protagonist of their own story, an idea that Wright-Heuman follows closely as each character has an excuse for their actions that falls away upon scrutiny. Once the mystery is set into motion, the story’s gears grind away at it as Wright-Heuman loves planting subtle clues that come to fruition much later on. The possibility of supernatural intervention is an interesting aside that also keeps the reader (and the characters) guessing. Above all else, he makes the reader ask, “What kind of story am I reading?” and he chooses not to answer that til near the very end. If there’s an author that he has something in common with in terms of story structure, it winds up being Agatha Christie, only he goes several steps darker than even she does.

It is rare for a comic to take me by surprise, but CCS student Andi Santagata managed that trick when I read the first page of his mini Jed The Undead Volume One: Fire In The Hole. There was a black “adult content” band around the mini that I had to slide off, which made me curious about its contents. It took me a few moments to parse his extremely thin line art and small panels on that page, but it soon became clear that a male was masturbating to a biker babe image, penis in hand. What was unusual that when he orgasmed, he blew a hole in his roof. When the page is turned, we can that he’s a demonic teenager, and the blanket that had been covering him up was still smoldering from the explosion.


That’s quite a way to start this hilarious supernatural teen angst comic, in which the titular Jed learns that once a demon comes of age, ejaculation becomes a problem. Especially because he moved with his father to Las Vegas, and simply seeing girls is torture for him. The story is very much about the perils of adolescence write large and out of control, as he spends this issue clumsily trying to figure things out and awkwardly explain things to his extremely cheery father and his best friend Freddy. In possibly the funniest two-page spread I read this year, Jed tries again (to the cover of a Nancy Drew mystery book, of all things) and realizes that he’s about to ejaculate. So he aims outside his open window at a tree many yards away. The result is a spectacular direct hit that incinerates the tree and attracts the attention of the local fire department. His efforts to shrink into his mattress as much as possible cap off this masterfully staged scene.


The rest of the comic plays off of this problem as various solutions are considered and abandoned, and Freddy winds up coming to his friend’s rescue. Santagata is completely committed to his style of art and it shows in the confidence of his storytelling, as scratchy and occasionally difficult to scan as it sometimes is. Once the reader adjusts to his bone-dry sense of humor and storytelling rhythms, everything else follows. I did think this comic could benefit from the use of spot colors, at a minimum, instead of the grayscaling he chose to use.


Chupacabra starts in a joyride in New Mexico with a teen possibly nicknamed “Florida” by the asshole driving the car. She’s out in defiance of her mother and is clearly intimidated by the older, cooler people she’s in the car with. A lighter is demanded, which she provides, but it’s unacceptable because it’s short and white, meaning it’s bad luck. Immediately, the car slams into something, What follows is once again a mix of suspense, horror, and comedy, with the extensive use of blacks crucial in spotlighting what’s out there waiting for them. Santigata cleverly makes the lighter a key element of the narrative, turning what seemed to be bad luck into a life-saving device. It’s not as visually sophisticated as her Jed story; rather, it feels like a solid warm-up in terms of establishing pace and mood. The only other cartoonist from CCS I can think of who manages to combine horror and humor so effectively is G.P. Bonesteel, though his visual approach is completely different. It’s a small group overall to be sure, and I can see where Santagata (like Ian Richardson) might have taken some cues from Steve Bissette. 


Sunday, December 11, 2016

Thirty-One Days of CCS #11: J.D. Lunt

J.D. Lunt came to cartooning later in life, and he's been quite upfront that expressing himself through comics has been a way of dealing with his Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Without going into too many details, Lunt revealed that it came as a result of years of working in the mental health industry and one debilitating case in particular. However, as he discusses in one of his minicomics related to the subject, Watching The Stick, his PTSD was triggered in part by unresolved traumas from earlier in his life. This is both a personal and instructive comic, as Lunt details what's involved with EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprogramming). This is a form of trauma therapy whose goal is to help the patient process trauma by moving it from its perpetual home in short term memory into the part of the brain that processes long-term memories. It involves following the therapist swing a stick in from of the patient for a couple of minutes, paying close attention to the end of the stick, and then talking about what one is immediately feeling at that time.

In Lunt's case, it unlocked some remarkably detailed memories of being a child and going through various traumas with his mother. The therapist also worked with him in moving him into a mental space after she asked him how he wanted to feel, and his reply was simply: safe. Lunt compared that question to the Biblical quote of Jesus asking a blind man if he wanted to be healed; in many ways, it's a loaded question, one where there's a lot of responsibility in answering yes. Lunt's bluntness is refreshing, as the last thing he wants is a comic where he's feeling sorry for himself, because "it seems both exploitative and predictable in a comic", as he has illustrations of comics like "Neurotic Boy Outsider" and "Mama's Boy" below that caption.

Lunt's drawing skills are rudimentary at best, and it's clear that the subject matter of these comics is hard for him to sit with, as there are a number of misspellings. That said, it's clear that the training he received at CCS had an impact on him, as his page design and composition is striking and his storytelling skills are strong. Looking at Comic In October, this is a comic where Lunt clearly slowed down and worked hard at making the visuals in the comic a crucial part of the overall storytelling. From the wrinkles on his forehead (with the rest of his face obscured) when he's triggered by the sound of frightened children to the way he faded out the presence of birds but left little cross-hatchings that his dog could sense and sniff, Lunt piles on details that reinforce this comic about his birthday. The comic is in the vein of John Porcellino, as Lunt thinks about the poetry of Dylan Thomas and how much it's meant to him, the ways in which a walk with his dog is not only meditative, it's a therapeutic activity, and what poetry itself means to him and what lines of poetry should mean. It is a comic about presentness without stating that that was its purpose, as Lunt identifies and is willing to sit with his emotions during the walk.

Monk Funnies takes the accumulated wisdom of Buddhist monks, Catholic monks and jazz musician Thelonious Monk and puts it into comics (and comical) form. Lunt asserts that it's too easy sometimes to overlook the wisdom of ascetics and assume it's all doom and gloom. Indeed, he notes how the effect of a good zinger is precisely the kind of short, sharp shock that can lead to enlightenment. It removes the questioner from the expected path they thought the answers to their questions laid upon and instead forces them to think laterally. That's why the Monk quotes were so great, because an artist like him has more in common with monks than one might think. Lunt identifies the ways in which he was attacked by society for his intelligence and unwillingness to bend with the status quo, but I would also add that the artist and mystic are two sides of the same coin. It's just that the artist expresses their understanding of transcendent experiences through their medium, while the mystic can only talk about it in terms of paradox, koans, jokes and other methods designed to recalibrate the mind. That's because enlightenment eludes language, and getting people to think differently gives them the potential to find that transcendent experience on their own. Visually, Lunt stays within his lane, adding a bit of weight to some panels with greyscale but keeping things simple. That allowed him to really get in some expressive, funny drawings in, like the faces of Monk and a reporter after Monk gave him a zinger, or an acolyte's expression when he gets whacked on the head with a stick by his master.

The main reason Lunt has quickly improved is that he clearly works very hard at his craft, as cranking out several minis like this would indicate. He took on, along with fellow CCS alum Kelly Swann, the co-editing duties of the anthology When I Returned. This comic falls under the new CCS designation Applied Cartooning, as it deals directly with education and medication in a very practical way. The anthology's theme was to match up CCS students and alumni with willing veterans from the local VA Hospital to see if they wanted to tell their stories about what it was like to return from service. The results were raw, bracing and honest, as each artist clearly worked hard to do each story justice. Jeff Lok, ordinarily a humorist, did a story straight from the perspective of a veteran named Vince that incorporated Lok's cartoony and slightly grotesque style with the matter-of-fact narration of the soldier. Without judgment, the story simply relates how things slowly went from good to bad to much worse for Vince, as he was sent to an active front in Iraq and slowly lost touch with his wife and family before incurring serious conditions by the end of his stay. There's no moralizing, just the facts.

Kotaline Jones & Ben Wright-Heumann teamed up to tell Thomas Marino's story. Or rather, they tried to get him to talk about his experiences but soon learned that Marino was a talented artist who did years of daily diary strips, several of which they reprinted here. Some of them are utterly banal, while others are absolutely shattering as he drew in a style that very much approximated the craft and style of an average newspaper strip. Mike Crosier's strip is about an officer who was an engineer that helped build weather satellites. Here, the difficultly was less about leaving behind a nightmarish experience and more about leaving behind a life that he was proud of and finding a way to move on from that. CCS alum Iona Fox teamed up with veteran Mike Rodriguez, each doing comics about their own interpretation of a conversation that they had.. Fox's stylized, cartoony line is wonderfully angular and idiosyncratic, while Rodriguez (a graduate student at Dartmouth) prefers a more naturalistic approach. Rodriguez's perspective, that there is no such thing as transition, only adaptation, is fascinating because he asserts that once you are turned into a soldier, there is no coming back.

Lunt and Swann took on the most harrowing story, which was that of a soldier named Kevin. He declined to talk about his time as a vet but did open up about a time when he was sexually assaulted by two men. There's a devastating set of panels where he says that after the experience, he spent the next 33 years getting as high as possible as a way of self-medicating--all the while drifting from city to city. When he had to go to the hospital for a leg injury, the admitted him for detox and he got into therapy. Eventually, he stopped isolating and avoiding the public. Lunt and Swann's approach is pretty basic, letting the details of the story unwind with minimal fuss. That said, their selective use of close-ups and the way they were able to unspool the narrative was impressive, as Kevin himself was a remarkable subject because of his openness. Wade Simpson's WWII story from his grandfather has beautiful Alex Toth overtones with his varied line weights and use of black & white. It's about how even the brotherhood that surrounds being a soldier cannot begin to compete with the reality of the horrors and senseless, mass death that one could encounter. Singing "White Christmas" while praying that bombs from your own side didn't destroy your POW building may have been briefly life-affirming, but it didn't make up for the fact that every other building got destroyed. All told, this was a well-constructed anthology with a number of different styles and storytelling approaches. What could have been didactic or repetitive instead let the reader draw their own conclusions, especially since there were so many points of view represented.



Saturday, November 28, 2015

Thirty Days of CCS #28: Ben Wright-Heuman

Ben Wright-Heuman is unusual for a CCS cartoonist in that his concentration on horror. Perhaps it's not so unusual in that Steve Bissette is a long-time faculty member at CCS and is one of the most notable of horror cartoonists, and it's clear that Bissette's gritty style is a strong influence. CCS of course requires cartoonists to experiment in a number of different genres.


Phantom is an autobiographical story that's almost a mission statement of sorts. It's about Wright-Heuman making a friend with a musician in college and becoming part of a welcoming guitar circle. His friend, a native New Orleansian, wrote a song about the devastation that Hurricane Katrina wrought on his city. That song became a local sensation, even if the author was always and ever unsatisfied with it. The story is really about the power of creation, collaboration and inspiration. Wright-Heuman is not especially comfortable as a naturalistic artist, so he was wise to concentrate on color and contour instead of line.


Trinary is a wordless story about robots in the future who create art in a factory, and a robot who rebels against her programming. The story's extended metaphor about free expression and the oppressiveness of conformity is heavy-handed, but Wright-Heuman's scribbly line and use of browns and oranges livens up an otherwise predictable story. Predictable isn't so bad when a story is well-executed, and that's certainly the case for Wendigo. In that classic scratchy, Bissette line, Wright-Heuman does a compelling job in telling the myth of the Wendigo, a voracious, cannibalistic deep woods spirit that infects those unlucky enough to come near it. Wright-Heuman uses a couple of clever tricks to make the story interesting, as he first keeps the reader in suspense by narrating the story from the point of view of a man who didn't believe in the Wendigo--and then continuing that narration when he becomes one of them.


The Light Outside The Window is Wright-Heuman's best-realized work. With a scribbly but detailed line and a highly effective use of digital coloring. Based on legends surrounding his own college, the story is about a college freshman who moves into her dormitory, only to learn that it's haunted in an especially unnerving way. During the winter, the room grew especially hot, as a young female ghost would appear, begging to be let inside. What was especially clever about the story was that after the backstory reveal, the story takes an unexpected and even humane turn as the protagonist becomes friends with the poor ghost, which made the final twist all the more chilling. Figure drawing is Wright-Heuman's biggest weakness as an artist, and finding a way to create his own particular style instead of relying on over-rendering in a naturalistic manner will be the key to his future development. He certainly has solid storytelling chops.