Showing posts with label iona fox. Show all posts
Showing posts with label iona fox. Show all posts

Monday, December 9, 2024

45 Days Of CCS, #9: Ellie Liota, Al Varela and Iona Fox (with Cooper Whittlesey)


Ellie Liota has shown a knack, in her young career for drawing anthropomorphic animals, or animals who are intelligent. Trash Town is a fun little comic that plays up both the comedic elements of a group of animals who are dumpster diving with the grim, visceral realities of what this really means. It's a nice art object as well, with a cover flap of a dumpster revealing the raccoon, opossum, and skunk staring up at the reader. Trash Town is a good example of an effective use of two-track storytelling; the dialogue is free-flowing and light-hearted as the animals dine on their dumpster buffet, but the visuals tell a nastier story. For example, one of the young possums brings their mother a severed human finger. A swarm of maggots is referred to as "disco rice" by Maude the possum rice because of the way they squirm, and their mother Annie the fly yells at the animals for eating her kids. Another great two-track moment is when the raccoon digs through the maggots to find something shocking. The reader thinks it's shock at finding a human corpse, but instead, it's shock at finding wet cat food. Liota manipulates the expectations of anthropomorphism and cleverly creates interesting story beats when the talking animals don't react the way a human would. Her cute character design only helps emphasize this further. 

Al Varela's Young, Dumb & Queer slice-of-life queer romance series is perfectly attuned, josei manga-inspired cartooning. It's colorful and populated by characters with big feelings who aren't afraid to talk about their feelings. The mini Hate My Ex is a good, short example of this, as the characters Tyler and Leslie chat about break-ups from their past. In what is essentially a talking heads comic, Varela keeps the reader's eye occupied with Tyler shooting hoops and then later eating lunch. Leslie is a great character because she recognizes her own self-sabotaging tendencies thanks to her bipolar disorder. Seeing both of their exes dating each other is a hilarious twist that provides a satisfying conclusion for what is just a 12-page comic. Varela's work is much more refined than when I first encountered it a couple of years ago. 


It's been a while since I had seen a comic from Iona Fox, but she's certainly had good reason. She had to deal with advanced-stage rectal cancer and the subsequent quality-of-life issues her survival (happily) entailed. In her funny and frank comic Tough Shit, Fox immediately dives into how the language around cancer is odd and "babyish," perhaps in an effort to talk around a disease that is not only deadly but whose treatments are grueling. Contracting cancer at the same time COVID was at its height, all while negotiating a new relationship, was a tough triple threat for Fox. However, the focus of this short comic is how she dealt with having a colostomy bag after her treatment. It's reflective of cancer treatment in general; there's plenty of attention to the actual treatment, but there's much less concern given to quality of life issues for survivors. A lot of detail (and information) is devoted not only to having a colostomy bag, but also information provided on the kind of underwear that should be worn with, sex, and finally how to discuss it publicly. This is one of the better cancer-related comics I've read, in part because Fox deliberately avoids valorization narratives and treatment-related infodumps in favor of her actual lived experience. 

Fox's line is much more loose and scribbly than I remembered, but it's highly effective and expressive. Abandoning naturalism in favor of crazier scribbles served her narrative well, just as it seems to serve New Thing, a comic she's doing with Cooper Whittlesey. It's about a twitchy man who's going to pick up. a dog at a special dog pound, one with strange rules. This was just four pages from a longer work, but I'm pretty sure Fox is doing all of the drawing here. The slightly grotesque character design fits with the absurdity of the narrative, and I'm excited to see Fox continue this kind of cartooning. 

Wednesday, September 12, 2018

Fifteen Artists And Publishers To Seek Out At SPX 2018

As always, it's a pleasure to compile my annual list of artists and publishers to seek out at SPX. I always make an effort never to repeat a name, and that's a tribute to the continuing depth of talent in alt-comics these days. There are also a few veterans here and there who are making their first appearance.

1. Laura Lannes. Table B11-B. This Brazilian autobio cartoonist made a big splash with By Monday I'll Be Floating In The Hudson With The Other Garbage, a painfully honest account of a doomed relationship. Her acidic sense of humor and sharp observations about life as a single person combined with her loose, fuzzy line made for a remarkably coherent & memorable series of vignettes. I believe she'll have a new comic at this show. 

2. Leila Abdelrazaq. Table M13-A. She's a Palestinian cartoonist based in Detroit who specializes in personal and political strips about alienation, persecution and identity. She recently finished as the first-runner up for the Locher Award, given to editorial cartoonists under the age of 25.

3. Conundrum Press. Table W66-B. They are one of the most underrated publishers in comics, consistently releasing daring, unusual comics. They're known for publishing works in English for the first time, giving a platform for young Canadian cartoonists, reprinting key comics and collecting truly strange comics. I don't think publisher Andy Brown will be there, but Max de Radigues will be there, repping his book Weegee.

4. Richie Pope. Table E11-A. Pope's magnificent issue of Frontier about fatherhood was one of the most memorable of the entire series. I'm eager to see his other comics.

5. Perfectly Acceptable Press. Table N13-A. Publisher Matt Davis is one of the premier purveyors of exquisitely-produced art objects (via Risograph) that are also excellent comics.

6. Rina Ayuyang. Table W1-4. Rina's a long-time favorite of mine who is debuting a book from Drawn & Quarterly soon called Blame This On The Boogie. I also have the pleasure of being the moderator for a panel she's on.

7. Silver Sprocket. Table J1. Avi Ehrlich's punk DIY aesthetic is the engine behind this burgeoning publishing concern. He publishes the personal and the political.

8. Iona Fox. Table D13. She's one of the brightest young voices in the embarrassment of riches we as readers are enjoying with regard to memoir and diary comics. She draws from experiences that are quite different from the average city dweller.

9. Matt Emery. Table F2. He's the brains behind Pikitia Press from Australia, and he's introduced me to a number of excellent cartoonists.

10. Summer Pierre. Table I11-A. In a year where the theme of the programming is memoir and there are so many great cartoonists in that area, Pierre stands out as one of the best of the best. Her line is as engaging as her storytelling, which is full of wit and warmth.

11. M.S. Harkness. Table M12-B. Her Tinderella was a hilarious but poignant autobiographical book that was remarkably frank and upfront about desire, loneliness and the sheer indignity of dating.

12. Maria Hoey. Table L14. One half of the Coin-Op team, she will be there with a recent issue of the comic as well as the collection from Top Shelf. She's one of the best illustrators around.

13. Julia Kaye. Table N1-A. Her book Super Late Bloomer is one of my favorites regarding the experience of transitioning. Her line is endlessly fun to look at.

14. Taneka Stotts. Table I1-A. A fine writer in her own right, Stotts is also a superb editor. Her Elements: Fire rightfully won the Eisner award.

15. Fred Noland. Table G5-A. This is "Fredo's" first SPX in some time. His minis from the early 2000s were some of my favorites.

Sunday, December 10, 2017

Thirty Days of CCS #10: Iona Fox & Penina Gal


Almanac 2017, by Iona Fox. So this is actually two variations on the same comic, with some overlapping material and some material unique to the volume. Both are in color. Fox noted that a final edition would be published at the end of the year. These autobio comics at once feel like a blend of influences (Carol Tyler's quirky character design, formal sensibilities and painterly qualities, Julie Doucet's embrace of the grotesque, Gabrielle Bell's whimsical sense of self and John Porcellino's embrace of nature) but also very much its own thing. This is mature work that shows Fox working with a great degree of confidence in her style, and with good reason.

Fox's comics have two built-in advantages. First, in her occupation as a farmer and mountain cabin caretaker, she simply does things that no other cartoonist talks about. Second, her sense of humor is extremely sharp, and she's able to bring humor to any situation. Fox also brings the perspective of someone with a number of intellectual interests, as her degree is in geology, she knows quite a bit about meteorology and it goes from there. Her self-caricature is one of my favorites, with a "fox curl" on top of her head and a collection of freckles, knobby knees and jumbled limbs. Her strips can range from a relationship strip about geese to a beautiful series of shots of sunsets. The strips pre and post Trump's election certainly have a different tone, as she touches both on politics and protecting those around her. There are strips about undocumented dairy workers and their struggle for improved conditions. Fox is also unabashedly frank with regard to her wants and needs with regard to both sex and companionship. There's a remarkable strip where she's betwixt and between out on a hike. She knows she's running late but also understands that moments like this that she's carving out for herself might not be available in a few years. She does it by coloring herself with the yellow-orange glow of the late afternoon and the details she provides of her form include stubble and bony hips. ,

The other edition prints some context notes for the reader, as well as printing rough sketches of strips that didn't make it to her weekly strip in a free weekly. This also has some strips from later in the year, including a hilarious one from the CAKE show where she was advertising on Tindrin order to get people to come to the show. Fox is a great example of a CCS grad who is somewhat limited with regard to the images she creates but at the same time turned those limitations into a highly expressive and personal style with top-notch storytelling. While Fox's stories about her jobs is fascinating and even informative at times, she can turn any subject into something interesting, thanks to her storytelling and narrative abilities.

Orbiting & Meow De Vivre, by Penina Gal. Gal has dabbled in humor and fantasy in her career, but Orbiting is a remarkable, warm, joyous and sensitive message from one friend to another. Told visually in red and green in the language of nature (flowers, clouds, wind, rain, waves, sky and space), it broaches the difficult topic of when a person is dealing with a lifetime of internalized exclusion. They feel they're a bother to others and don't deserve love. On top of this, the person in question is trans, making it even harder to express one's true self. In excruciating, beautiful detail, Gal talks about her friend knowing that she wanted community, but being unable to make it stick for fear of constantly feeling burdensome and unwelcome. There's a moment describing the friend's first kiss, up against a van, the person saying "I care more about art than kissing. Your art is beautiful." Throughout the imagery relates to the friend's tendency to have their head in the clouds, to overthink, to withdraw inside. There are reminders that they are integral to the earth, they are part of it, they are connected and fearless in ways they haven't even considered. Gal's command over line and color is fantastic and imaginative, with a constant tension between keeping the imagery grounded and letting it fly off into space or under water. The beauty of this comic is matched only by its generousness of spirit.

Meow De Vivre is a much sillier project, but it's also visually distinctive. Originally designed for gallery space at a hair salon, Gal actually does something original with cat cartooning. The "Singles In Your Area" page is hilarious, with profiles from "OK Catnip". There are "pawdicures", trash talk about dogs, cat selfies, cat haute couture, and a clever collage. Gal has an eye for gag humor that's never been obvious in some of her other work (with the exception of Glamera, which she did with Betsey Swardlick), but it stands out here in page after page celebrating cats as familiar creatures or as performing drag. Once again, Gal's watercolors are the main attraction, grabbing the eye without looking too garish. Being in a gallery, that use of color was obviously crucial for an audience, but it worked just as well on the page.

Saturday, December 9, 2017

Thirty Days of CCS #9: Girl Talk & My Pace 2

My Pace Volume 2 is an anthology edited by Iona Fox and Anna McGlynn under their Rod & Cone aegis.


Girl Talk is a classic CCS anthology: hand-made and aggressively bold in terms of its theme and structure. This time around, an artist adapted part of another artist's diary, fictionalizing it to create a narrative. The hand-cut cover with various punched-out skeletons is beautiful and a nice touch. Anna McGlynn took an entry from Fox and turned it into a visceral slice-of-life story centered summer in the city. Our protagonist, Vivian, is sick of being in her cramped, hot apartment while getting calls from friends smoking weed and hooking up with random guys. McGlynn drew Vivian in such a way that she was irritated with anyone having a good time with a potential romantic partner, eventually drawing in x's for eyes. When a loser guy she has a crush on won't even hit on her because her breasts were "consumed with sadness", that's her breaking point, one that only snack cakes will alleviate. The rawness of McGlynn's storytelling is a nice fit for depicting the kind of daywhere people feel like they're melting.

Fox illustrating Cooper Whittlesey's psychedelic insights was a particular pleasure, as her quirky character design, decorative touch and oft-sketchy line were perfect for a comic about walking around and listening to music. Whittlesey and first-time cartoonist Alyse Burnside were inspired by McGlynn's diary, an office story about a young woman named Jane who is frequently sexually harassed and humiliated by her boss. It's revealed that she's the result of her father having sex with his mother, a fact she tries to work through with fantasy (both in real life and with porn). The battle between her trying to assert her worth as a human being that deserves love and the abuse she receives culminates in her taking a bus to the end of the line and meeting a naked woman next to a run-off pipe and perceiving her as someone connected to her. Nothing is explicitly revealed regarding this identity or even reality in this situation, and that ambiguity charges the strip even more. With 16 panels per page, Whittlesey & Burnside pummel the reader with tiny print, grotesque drawing and oblique angles, yet the horror and absurdity of it all is strangely hypnotic in its own way. Kaplan drew a convoluted account of a story from Fox, as it's about a day she was supposed to get a stitch out from someone who turned out to be an ex-girlfriend of an ex-boyfriend. There are amusing rabbit-hole details that emerge from the story, but this story was fairly lightweight compared to the others. That's not surprising since it's just four pages, as it served as a digestive more than as a crucial part of the anthology.

My Pace, an anthology about marching to one's own drummer, had a tight seven-person lineup. It's not as conceptually interesting as Girl Talk and is more uneven, as the editors went wide and took some risks with their contributors, not all of which paid off. Sam Szabo's silly ant piece feels like something out of a 1980s Steve Willis minicomic, but the way in which she sticks to the premise of the ant janitor and its mystic implications won me over by the end, although this slight story was way too long. Collage artist Sara Hebert contributed clip art with statements about her anger about not asking for anything regarding her needs when having sex. It's short, stark and bold, and quite a shift from the first story. Sean Knickerbocker's crisp line art was another nice change of pace, as he wrote a story about a guy going back to the desolate area in which he grew up. Knickerbocker takes a wrecking ball to ideas like nostalgia and closure, as coming back to his old house was walking through a minefield of triggers. The kicker is that the friend who came told him that this was, in fact what he wanted--to relive the trauma instead of learning how to move past it.

Iris Yan's anthropomorphic autobio is always dryly witty, and even this story about the death of her mother is no exception. When she gets a wreathe "from the team", she imagines her mother was on a secret soccer team. Having her librarian mother's ashes on a shelf so she could read whenever she wanted was a sweet touch. Mississippi's text lettering was distracting, especially for a comic that was so roughly drawn. There were points where this meditation on loneliness was rough in a way that was lovely and expressive, and other points where it let down the story's flow. The more abstract nature of Megan Snowe's comic made that text feel more suitable, since it was a comic about texting, the hand and arm broken down in such a way so as to render them into almost abstract shapes. Finally Summer Pierre's piece about how she came to comics is one I've read elsewhere, but it was a perfect choice for ending this particular volume. It's a sweet, funny story about Pierre meeting "comics' (an anthropomorphic character accounting for all of the art form), having flirtations with music, art and poetry, and then one night coming back to comics ("It's you! It's always been you!"). Her use of the grid highlights her whimsical self-caricature design by featuring it in every panel, almost invariably in a different pose and position each time. It's a subtle way of making the reader work a little in every panel and keep their eye fresh when they absorb new text.

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.



Friday, November 20, 2015

Thirty Days of CCS #20:My Pace

Rod and Cone is the publishing imprint of Anna McGlynn and Iona Fox, and My Pace is their latest anthology that's mostly from CCS students and grads. It's a very nicely curated anthology whose contents manage to fit together well despite veering from confessional autobio to visceral weirdness. There's a scrawled, intimate quality common to all of the work here, beginning with Hannah Kaplan's "Summer Diary". These are almost embarrassingly confessional in nature, as Kaplan lets her insecurities and her sexual encounters out into the open and on to the page. She's not afraid to plainly draw her own nude body as well as those of her lovers, but the effect is raw and immediate, as opposed to titillating. Kaplan deals with the loss of an important relationship, the confusion of sleeping with her boss and the emotional challenge of living around in a loose, freehand pencil style that's all about capturing emotion through image as quickly as possible.

Cooper Whittlesey's four-panel and one panel strips veer somewhere between intensely personal and intimate and absurd at a Sam Henderson level. His drawing style is a sort of frenzied scrawl, with lots of difficult-to-read lettering and smudged images. Like Kaplan, it's like he's trying to get these thoughts about sex and "photos of every man she's ever been with--with erections!" out of his head an onto paper as quickly as possible. After the harshness of the first two artists, Fox's own "November Diary" is a smooth counterpoint. It's a lovely account of a trip from Vermont to Quebec for a zine fest, though not before Fox (who is also a farmer) stops off to examine a farm in Quebec. These strips are every bit as intimate if not as revealing as the other strips, as Fox doesn't stop to provide context to the information she discusses, nor does she seek to conceal anything. Her self-caricature is amusing, with a loop of hair on her head, and one gets a sense of contentment with considerable labors and struggles by the end of the story.

McGlynn keeps up the diary theme, only she goes back in time with "My Future Boyfriend", written by a fictional character named Vivian Howard. The rhythm of the narration is meant to mimic both a diary as well as a director's notes for a movie. The writing is beautiful and painful, as Vivian is spun around in a million directions by her own brain, her own hormones and the wonderful and terrible confusion of adolescent being. Drawing the strip on lined paper gave it a certain authenticity, and the use of imagery not directly related to the narration was clever and hinted at the way Vivian fought off feelings of jealousy and distrust and embraced those around her.

Reilly Hadden's "Land Grove" uses his thin, cartoony line to create another story about a dangerous, unstable environment and attempts to find safety in it. When a man goes out in a bicycle away from his partner and their tent, how he negotiates danger and the reward he receives is not unlike an Aesop's fable. Stephanie Kwok's textual diary provides yet another take on the concept, as she uses a variety of fonts to create a visual framing device for her rambling thoughts and observations. Throughout, the theme of wanting to connect but feeling isolated is repeated, her own shouts into the void an act of defiance against loneliness. Sophie Yanow's "Gaslight", featuring a figure off-panel talking to a prone figure on-panel, offers a different take on intimacy. The figure off-panel conflates honesty with intimacy, as though being honest about doing horrible things excused the horrible things we do. It's an appropriate capper to an anthology where every artist explored their emotions, their limits and their struggles in each story in an attempt at authenticity. Yanow reminds us that authenticity without humanity is no virtue. As always, her command over her line is so precise that she uses a handful of tremulous slashes and geometric figures to get at that sense of being devastated. All told, this is one of the strongest CCS-related anthologies I've read.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Thirty Days of CCS #8: Iona Fox and Anna McGlynn


Iona Fox is a recent CCS grad (class of 2015), and her autobiographical Almanac Comics Annual picks up on the first day of class in September of 2014 and goes from there. She's the perfect example of a cartoonist with limited draftsmanship who nonetheless manages to come up with a working style and method to tell stories. This comic was initiated as part of a class assignment to record and draw one's dreams, but Fox's inability to remember her dreams at the beginning saw her spin out in other directions. There's a delightful, weird energy that suffuses her comics, from the tight spiral of her hair to the odd angles and sketchiness of her daily life. Above all else, these diary comics are quirky in a manner that's entirely natural, which may well be an outgrowth of the oddness of her daily life. She split time between Burlington and White River Junction (home of CCS), and co-owns and works on a farm in the former location with her boyfriend. It's delightful to see Fox experiment with different kinds of drawing styles throughout the book, alternating between a thicker line and her more quickly-scrawled out daily strips. She alternates between cartooning in a grid and using an open layout. There are quotidian descriptions of her day as well as meditations on particular incidents, like wading/floating further and further out into a lake, making some on the shore wonder if she was trying to commit suicide. There's a funny strip about getting dressed up in a bear outfit in order to trick a bear into thinking it was spring already. It's interesting that she chose to draw a couple of special guest-speakers in her class: Dame Darcy on one day and John Porcellino on another. That's because there are echoes of both cartoonists in her work: the scratchy weirdness of Darcy combined with the poetic focus on one's own mind and the natural world.



Anna McGlynn is another class of 2015 grad whose sensitive, perceptive work is reminiscent of another CCS grad, Melissa Mendes. Both took a number of cues from the Lynda Barry school of personal but fictionalized storytelling, especially in how they tell stories from the point of view of kids. The Puddle And The Sea follows the episodic observations of a girl named Allie in a Catholic school. McGlynn is typical of many CCS grads in that her draftsmanship is functional but unexceptional, but her storytelling chops are well-developed. Like Barry, each episode is organized under a single thematic title, narrated by Allie in caption boxes. The results are frequently poignant, poetic and achingly real. Strips like "The Abandoned Sock", which talks about the ways in which children build worlds with each other, some of which are taken more seriously by some kids than others, fall into that realm of familiar because of the specificity of its details. "Ladybird" juxtaposes a child's rhyme with the pain of seeing one's parents in emotional agony as they split. "The Van" is about going to some kind of group therapy session for children of divorce, where she's asked to choose a painful image that represents her family dynamic--a concept she was not yet ready for. There is also camaraderie and magic moments with friends who seem to know things she doesn't and boys willing to share their time, time that she wants to slow down to a crawl. Despite the many bleak themes in the comic, there's an essence of hope and resolve in the character of Allie, one that allows her to keep her sense of wonder. McGlynn's poetic chops are already well-developed, and her career will be one where she simply needs to further streamline her drawing style.