Minis: D.Edwards, M.Feazell, K.Wirick, T.Breed

Nervenkrank #2, by Katherine Wirick. This is the second chapter of Wirick's long-form work about Dada artist John Heartfield, aka Helmut Hertzfeld. The first issue discussed his time just after being released from a mental hospital after a breakdown during World War I as a German soldier. This issue sees him being brought back into the army as a sick ward attendant. Wirick gets right to the heart of the Dada ethos when she shows the utter pointlessness of the conflict and nationalism as a whole through his eyes. Dada was in large part a reaction to the War, born in the middle of the conflict in Switzerland from those dodging the conflict and then spreading through Europe and then to America in different forms. Wirick runs the story's narrative spine across the relationship between Heartfield and his brother Wieland, as the latter was absolutely steadfast in his support of his brother's career as an artist. The constant specter of death that loomed over them as they were both soldiers eased as Wieland was injured severely enough to earn an honorable discharge, and he used that time with his brother to introduce him to George Grosz at the end of this issue. Grosz and Heartfield would go on to found German Dada, but more to the point, it pushed Heartfield to create again after losing all desire to paint in the face of his anxiety and wartime realities. Wirick's use of grayscale is expressive and moody, providing a counterpoint to her naturalistic figure work. She's able to get across the fragility of both men in her drawings in the face of a nightmare, but also portrays Wieland's quiet strength and John's tenacity despite everything. She takes her time in telling this story, but it's clear that establishing Heartfield's circumstances was crucial in understanding the way in which he chose to express himself.

The Amazing Cynicalman #43, by Matt Feazell. The Rembrandt of stick-figure mini-comics continues to draw his signature character in minicomics form. This series reprints weekly comics that are either four or eight panels long. Feazell's humor is extremely silly, as Cynicalman (always with a straight line for a mouth--neither smiling nor frowning) is always dealing with an annoying, disappointing world. Yet he keeps chugging along no matter what, both in his normal day-to-day activities and in his role in the Board of Superheros (sic). There are other regulars that Feazell draws, like teens Spud n Ernie, Stupid Boy, Cute Girl, and Anti-Social Man. Feazell's comics are interesting because of his refinement of stick-figure drawing, which is both wonderfully precise and expressive. His ability to balance elements in each panel's composition is remarkable, be it text, negative space to express a beat of time, or background elements that are key to understanding the gags. Feazell can't afford to waste a single line, yet there's something attractive about the way he draws a page. Feazell is one of the earliest minicomics makers who's still drawing on a regular basis, and the result is a formula that's refined to such a fine point that it's reached the level that once you start reading, you can't stop reading.

That Night: This Must Be The Place, by Tony Breed. This is a quiet, elegant and deeply felt story about the grieving process. It's about the associations music and relationships have, and how a musical cue can both exacerbate and ease pain, depending on the context. As Breed reveals in the course of the comic, his husband died six months before this story was set, and the Talking Heads song "This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)" comes up because it was a reading for their wedding. A different version of it comes to Breed's attention in a positive way, and as he walked home from a bar, he listened to it (with the key line "Love me till I am dead" especially resonating) and saw what seemed to be a fox on the way. There's a funny epilogue where a friend tries to pinprick that scenario but asserting it was likely a coyote, not a fox, but Breed squashes it by noting that it wasn't really important as to what it was--the important thing is that it was personally significant for him. This sums up the comic, as we seek meaning and connections in the face of grief as part of the mourning process. Everything about this comic was simple: a standard 2x3 panel format, typical grayscaling, and expressive art that stays within the range of naturalism. This wasn't a comic where Breed was looking to reinvent the form; rather, Breed was working within the comfort of the form to approach some difficult emotions in a way that didn't overwhelm the reader (or him) but still got at the heart of his grief and his attempts to experience and move past that grief.

QAT Person #2, by Dylan Edwards. This is Edwards' own anthology series of short stories as a man who identifies as transgender and asexual. Edwards has come a long way as a cartoonist since his first book, Transposes, which was published five years ago. Working in full color, these comics are sharper and have a much more confident and bold line than his earlier work. They also work better as narrative, as each short story packs a powerful punch in just a few pages. The first story details Edwards' history coming to terms with not only his sexual orientation and his gender orientation, but also dealing with the enormous pressure of being made to feel less than because he only rarely felt sexually attracted to others. When a wise doctor said that this situation should only be considered problematic if it bothered the individual in question, it gave Edwards permission to eventually embrace his identity as an "ace". Edwards also points out that asexual does not automatically mean aromantic, and this creates its own set of challenges.

This story is both intensely personal (going all the way back to childhood and an evangelical christian background) and written with a great amount of clarity with regard to explaining what all of this means to people who might not be familiar with these terms or this experience. There's also a short strip grappling with the reality of having Donald Trump as president and what this means to queer people, as well as a short, fascinating strip about visiting Japan and discussing trans issues with an activist/DJ/bar owner. In particular, they note that insurance frequently doesn't cover trans-related health care in both of their countries. Edwards has always clearly had the urge to be an educator, and his comics have a pedagogical quality to them. However, Edwards has also become a top-notch storyteller, using an economy of words and lines to pack an enormous emotional punch as well as as relating clearly-delineated ideas.

Sequart Reprints: More MOCCA minicomics (2005)

As I've noted before, it's always a bit awkward reviewing and analyzing comics whose main purpose is being funny. They either make you laugh or they don't, but examining exactly why this is like killing the goose that laid the golden eggs. That said, let's take a look at some recent humor minicomics and the different approaches they used.

Summer Fun With Elroy P Dinner is a mini that's an excerpt from an upcoming issue of Sam Henderson's Magic Whistle. Henderson is probably the preeminent gagmaster in this generation of cartoonists. In particular, he's a master at subverting situational humor, either by upending expectations, taking situations to their logical extremes, or by stacking so many absurd elements on top of each other that he destroys any semblance of logic or structure. This mini is his technique in microcosm. It's about a bearded restaurant critic who only gives good reviews to restaurants where everyone involved is wearing a beard. The restaurant owner panders to him by forcing everyone (including customers) to wear fake beards, then has to pander to a pirate food critic and a cowboy yodeling food critic. He then throws in the fact that the restaurant is famous for cat food sandwiches and takes us to the cat food factory (owned by a talking cat, of course). This insanity is made all the more effective by Henderson's crude but expressive characters, all of whom just look inherently funny to my eyes. Henderson flogs a premise until it starts to lose all meaning, and this commitment to a joke while finding a thousand different ways to warp it is what makes him a master. Check out http://magicwhistle.com for more.

Matt Wiegle of the Partyka group checks in with Your Karate Vacation. Wiegle's sense of humor is usually a bit dry, but he goes for all-out silliness in this comic. This is an 8-page mini that combines martial arts cliches with travelogue banalities, and the result is very funny. The cover image shows a karate warrior with his leg up, ready to strike--but with a martini balanced on it and standing on a beach. Every page is its own gag, and they're all funny. The best might be one captioned "Some tips on the use of public transportation:" for a diagram that shows our karate master leaping from the street to on top of a passing bus. Wiegle doesn't go for the kitchen sink like Henderson does, instead, he juxtaposes two unlike things and wrings every bit of humor out of them.

As Eavesdropped, Vol 2 by Suzanne Baumann depicts out-of-context scenes and overheard conversations. This works well because of Baumann's timing and rubbery style that gives the eye something to latch onto. The best story is about a movie theatre cashier who receives a compliment from an elderly woman about her politeness, only to get savagely critiqued when she reveals that she's 26, not a teenager: "Why on earth are you working HERE?" This mini is short and sweet, with a great premise.

Speaking of great premises, Teen Boat  #7 continues to follow the ridiculous adventures of the boy who can turn into a boat. John Green and Dave Roman take every 80's-movie cliche and pack them into one comic: the whiny hero who gets great advice from his female best friend who has an unrequited crush on him, the jock who gets all the girls he has a crush on, etc. The fact that he can turn into a boat (and is obsessed with nautical terms) is what makes this comic irresistible. The best thing about this issue, where Teen Boat tries to learn how to drive a car to impress a girl (with predictably disastrous results), is that "TB" is self-centered, obnoxious and a narcissist. This only makes him much funnier, as the audience actually enjoys him getting his comeuppance. I can't wait til this series gets collected, because it's going to be a dynamite "gateway comic" for a lot of readers. Check out http://www.myspace.com/teenboat for more.

Tom Gauld takes a completely different tact in Guardians of the Kingdom. He's deadpan and dry, but gets all sorts of laughs out of this story of two guards defending a wall from invaders that never come. They build snowmen, throw rocks, brew tea, piss off the wall--anything to alleviate boredom and their simultaneous need for each other's company and resentment of same. Gauld is known for his spare lines, but there's a lushness to this comic, thanks to the manic work he did crosshatching and shading so many of the pages. This comic is beautiful and wistful, but I found myself chuckling on every page as well. I picked up my copy from Buenaventura Press.

Most of the folks in this article are polished veterans. That's why reading Alexander Rocine's Binge of the Space Pig was just an unusual pleasure, because this comic obviously just flowed from the pen of a young artist who just wanted to draw something that made him laugh. The effect is sort of like a cross between Rory Hayes and Monty Python, as a group of pirate teddy bears sail the ocean, the author visits the YMACA (Young Man's Anti-Christian Association, an old Python joke) and winds up hanging out with Satan as he gets a tour of hell from a penguin demon. These comics are crudely-drawn but have an enormous amount of energy and imagination. As Rocine cycles through his influences, refines his style and firmly establishes his own voice, he could become quite a cartoonist. He's already a great stylist and has a no-holds-barred approach to storytelling, not to mention a considerable amount of enthusiasm. His sense of humor combines the absurd and the demented, and a willingness to try anything on the page. Seek out http://www.myspace.com/maskedcreature for more.

Last on this list is the one and only Matt Feazell, the Rembrandt of stick-figure mini-comics. I've been reading his work for close to 20 years, and he only keeps getting better. His stick figures are more expressive than most humorists' regular figures, and it's no accident--I've seen some of his test sheets where he perfects his methods. The result is pure storytelling, with no extraneous elements. Anything extra he packs into a panel is either devoted directly to the story, character, or gag--even if it's just a decorative element. The comics I got at MOCCA were The Amazing Cynicalman #15-18. These are collections of his weekly strip, featuring characters he's been writing for years, like Cynicalman, Cute Girl, Stupid Boy, etc. Feazell is pretty conventional when it comes to most of his punchlines, but the clarity of his storytelling is so powerful, that one's eye just can't get enough of what he's doing. On one page, he had a strip that ran for 15 tiny panels to get to its punchline, yet his sense of rhythm and timing is so impeccable that the eye just zipped across the page. Feazell veers from absurd gags (like an elevator to Alpha Centauri), to goofy puns, to clever observations ("Wonders of Domesticaton" traces the evolution of fierce beasts into pets, and ends with the hunter being turned into a sales manager), to sociopolitical commentary, to some jokes with nasty punchlines. Like many of my favorite artists, Feazell's features could only work as comics, and there's something about seeing them in standard 8-page mini form that's very comforting.