Two years ago, we highÂlightÂed for you the beginÂning of a promisÂing project — Julian Peters’ comÂic book adapÂtaÂtion of T.S. Eliot’s 1910 poem “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.” At the time of our post, Peters had only comÂpletÂed the first nine pages of his adapÂtaÂtion. And, about those first pages, our Josh Jones had this to say:
Dante is where “Prufrock” begins, with an epiÂgraph from the InferÂno. Peters’ first page illusÂtrates the agoÂnized speakÂer of Dante’s lines, GuiÂdo da MonÂteÂfelÂtro, a soul conÂfined to the eighth cirÂcle, whom you can see at the top of the title page shown above. Peters’ visuÂal choicÂes place us firmÂly in the hellÂish emoÂtionÂal realm of “Prufrock,” a seemÂing catÂaÂlogue of the munÂdane that harÂbors a darkÂer import. Peters gives us no hint of when we might expect new pages, but I for one am eager to see more.
Note: Julian is lookÂing for a pubÂlishÂer to help put his comÂic book in print. If any pubÂlishÂers want to chat with him, you can find his conÂtact info on his web site.
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In the past, we’ve brought you the creÂative work of R. SikoÂryak. An illusÂtraÂtor who teachÂes at the ParÂsons School of Design in NYC, SikoÂryak has a penÂchant for creÂatÂing comÂic book adapÂtaÂtions of litÂerÂary clasÂsics. Take for examÂple DosÂtoyevsky Comics where BatÂman stars in a comÂic book verÂsion of Crime & PunÂishÂment. Or WaitÂing to Go, which marÂries WaitÂing for Godot with BeavÂis and Butt-Head.
In his latÂest project, SikoÂryak veers sharply away from litÂerÂaÂture toward lanÂguage that is much more techÂniÂcal. Now, on his tumÂblr, you can findiTunes Terms & ConÂdiÂtions: The GraphÂic NovÂel.
Adding a new page every day, SikoÂryak is creÂatÂing an illusÂtratÂed verÂsion of the “comÂplete, unabridged legal agreeÂment.” You can curÂrentÂly view the first 49 pages. Click here. Go to the botÂtom of the page. Then start scrolling up as you read.
FolÂlow Open CulÂture on FaceÂbook and TwitÂter and share intelÂliÂgent media with your friends. Or betÂter yet, sign up for our daiÂly email and get a daiÂly dose of Open CulÂture in your inbox. And if you want to make sure that our posts defÂiÂniteÂly appear in your FaceÂbook newsÂfeed, just folÂlow these simÂple steps.
Would John Lennon’s “ImagÂine” have been such a big hit if it had come from an unknown singer/songwriter instead of one of the most famous rock stars in the world? ImposÂsiÂble to say. Maybe a betÂter quesÂtion is: could anyÂone else have writÂten the song? “ImagÂine” has become much more than a soft rock anthem since its release in 1971; it has become a globÂal pheÂnomÂeÂnon. Among the innuÂmerÂable big events at which the humanÂist hymn appears we can include, since 2005, New York’s New Year’s Eve celÂeÂbraÂtion and, just recentÂly, a perÂforÂmance by pop star ShakiÂra at the UN GenÂerÂal AssemÂbly just before Pope FranÂcis’ hisÂtorÂiÂcal appearÂance.
It seems an odd choice, givÂen the song’s apparÂent anti-reliÂgious mesÂsage. And yet, though Lennon was no fan of orgaÂnized reliÂgion, he told PlayÂboy magÂaÂzine in a 1980 interÂview that the song was inspired by “the conÂcept of posÂiÂtive prayer” in a ChrisÂtÂian prayer book givÂen to him by Dick GreÂgoÂry. “If you can imagÂine a world at peace,” said Lennon, “with no denomÂiÂnaÂtions of religion—not withÂout reliÂgion but withÂout this my God-is-bigger-than-your-God-thing—then it can be true….” As if to underÂscore that parÂticÂuÂlar point in his adapÂtaÂtion of “ImagÂine” in the video above, carÂtoonÂist Pablo StanÂley includes such reliÂgiousÂly diverse, yet ecuÂmeniÂcal figÂures as the agnosÂtic Albert EinÂstein, ProtesÂtant MarÂtin Luther King, Jr., HinÂdu MahatÂma GandÂhi, and RastaÂfarÂiÂan Bob MarÂley, along with less-famous freeÂdom fightÂers like HarÂvey Milk and murÂdered RussÂian jourÂnalÂist Anna Politkovskaya.
StanÂley’s “ImagÂine” origÂiÂnalÂly appeared in webÂcomÂic form, sans music, on his blog Stanleycolors.com. It seems that sevÂerÂal peoÂple took excepÂtion to an earÂliÂer, mostÂly black-and-white draft (which also includÂed what looks like the once-very-SouthÂern-BapÂtist JimÂmy Carter), so StanÂley issued a mulÂti-point disÂclaimer under his revised, full-colÂor verÂsion. He states that this “is NOT an anti-reliÂgion/atheÂist proÂpaÂganÂda comic”—charges also unfairÂly levied at Lennon’s song. StanÂley doesÂn’t address the fact that most of the famous peoÂple in his comÂic, includÂing Lennon, were assasÂsiÂnatÂed, though this blog post offers a sugÂgesÂtive theÂoÂry with interÂview footage from Lennon himÂself.
In every respect, the comÂic adapÂtion of “ImagÂine” hews pretÂty closeÂly to Lennon’s call for world peace. In anothÂer BeaÂtÂles-penned balÂlad-adapÂtaÂtion, howÂevÂer, things take a much darkÂer turn. StanÂley uses his perÂsonÂal expeÂriÂence of near-suiÂciÂdal depresÂsion in his comÂic realÂizaÂtion of Paul McCartÂney’s song of lost love, “YesÂterÂday.” (See a video verÂsion above, webÂcomÂic verÂsion here.) This is grim stuff, to be sure, but StanÂley assures us that he “overÂcame that sitÂuÂaÂtion.” His comÂmenÂtary offers a hopeÂful take on the painful endÂing: “LookÂing at the yesÂterÂday reminds me that I should thrive for the tomorÂrow.” I’m sure McCartÂney would agree with the senÂtiÂment.
For many more smart, moving—though non-Beatles-related—comics from Pablo StanÂley, see his blog, StanÂley ColÂors.
Bob Kane creÂatÂed BatÂman in 1939 as a way to fulÂfill the public’s need for more comÂic book superÂheroes in the wake of SuperÂman. And, by 1943, BatÂman made his way from pulpy print to the screen for first time.
In this video tribÂute to the many looks of BatÂman through the ages, Jacob T. SwinÂney advances chronoÂlogÂiÂcalÂly, but also theÂmatÂiÂcalÂly, focusÂing on the interÂplay between BatÂman and his sideÂkick Robin; the fetishizaÂtion of Batman’s tool belt; and the evoÂluÂtion of his cosÂtume from fabÂric (his clasÂsic look up through the ’80s) to the BDSM-inspired rubÂber outÂfits that have lastÂed since Michael Keaton donned the solÂid black get-up through ChrisÂtÂian Bale’s interÂpreÂtaÂtion. (It does seem that Ben Affleck’s verÂsion will not deviÂate from this course, but add some armor. He will also conÂtinÂue to perch on top of spires and tall buildÂings and stand watch over the city.)
The othÂer evoÂluÂtion worth noticÂing is in Batman’s voice, and what it says about America’s relaÂtionÂship with authorÂiÂty. In the earÂly seriÂals up through Adam West’s iconÂic TV verÂsion, BatÂman speaks in clipped but enunÂciÂatÂed tones, someÂwhere in the region of newsÂcastÂers and G‑men. This conÂnects BatÂman to the detecÂtive part of his charÂacÂter and telegraphs his innate goodÂness. But once Keaton takes on the role, BatÂman speaks in a low, graveÂly tone to suit his vigÂiÂlante ethos, designed for meetÂings in dark alleys. This is how we want our heroes now.
This “seriÂous” shift takes its cue from Frank Miller’s groundÂbreakÂing The Dark Knight Returns comÂic book, which is ground zero for every superÂhero film since that wears its gritÂty realÂism on its sleeve. This affectÂed speech reachÂes its fairÂly ridicuÂlous apothÂeÂoÂsis in ChristoÂpher Nolan’s The Dark Knight RisÂes, where both hero and vilÂlain are incomÂpreÂhenÂsiÂble. The only thing left is parÂoÂdy, and that’s how we end this video, with Will Arnett’s voice aniÂmatÂing the Lego Movie’s verÂsion of the superÂhero: affectÂed, narÂcisÂsisÂtic, and believÂing too much in his own myth.
Ted Mills is a freeÂlance writer on the arts who curÂrentÂly hosts the FunkZone PodÂcast. You can also folÂlow him on TwitÂter at @tedmills, read his othÂer arts writÂing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.
Even if you don’t like comÂic books, think of names like SuperÂman, BatÂman, and WonÂder Woman, and you get a very clear menÂtal picÂture indeed. ClasÂsic superÂheroes live, breathe, batÂtle supervilÂlians, and even die and return to life across decades upon decades of stoÂryÂlines (and often more than one at once), but we all know them because, just like the most endurÂing corÂpoÂrate logos, they also stand as surÂpassÂingÂly effecÂtive works of comÂmerÂcial art. But givÂen that countÂless difÂferÂent artists in varÂiÂous media have had to renÂder these superÂheroes over those decades, how have their images remained so utterÂly conÂsisÂtent?
Being 33 years old, this parÂticÂuÂlar style guide doesÂn’t perÂfectÂly reflect the way all of DC’s superÂheroes look today, what with the aesÂthetÂic changes made to keep them hip year on year. But you’ll notice that, while fashÂions tend to have their way with the more minor charÂacÂters (longÂtime DC fans espeÂcialÂly lament the headÂband and big hair this style guide inflictÂed upon SuperÂgirl), the major ones still look, on the whole, pretÂty much the same. Sure, SuperÂman has the strength and the flight, BatÂman has the wealth and the vast armory of high-tech crime-fightÂing tools, and WonÂder Woman can do pretÂty much anyÂthing, but all those abilÂiÂties pale in comÂparÂiÂson to the sheer powÂer of their design. You can flip through the rest of the Style Guide here.
It is surÂprisÂing to me, but a few peoÂple I’ve come across don’t know the name of carÂtoonÂist Robert Crumb, cult hero of underÂground comics and obscure AmerÂiÂcana record colÂlectÂing. On secÂond thought, maybe this shouldÂn’t come as such a surÂprise. These are some pretÂty small worlds, after all, popÂuÂlatÂed by obsesÂsive fans and archivists and not always parÂticÂuÂlarÂly welÂcomÂing to outÂsiders. But Crumb is difÂferÂent. For all his social awkÂwardÂness and hyper-obsesÂsiveÂness, he seems strangeÂly accesÂsiÂble to me. The easÂiÂest refÂerÂence for those who’ve nevÂer heard of him is Steve Buscemi’s SeyÂmour in TerÂry ZwigofÂf’s Ghost World. There’s an obviÂous tribÂute to Crumb in the charÂacÂter (Zwigoff preÂviÂousÂly made an R. Crumb docÂuÂmenÂtary), though it’s cerÂtainÂly not a one-to-one relaÂtion (the film adapts Daniel Clowe’s comÂic of the same name.)
Whether or not Ghost World (or ZwigofÂf’s Crumb) rings a bell, there’s still the matÂter of how to comÂmuÂniÂcate the lovÂable lewdÂness and aggresÂsive anachroÂnism that is CrumÂb’s art. For that one may only need to menÂtion Big BrothÂer & the HoldÂing ComÂpaÂny’s 1968 clasÂsic Cheap Thrills (top), the first album covÂer Crumb designed—and which Janis Joplin insistÂed upon over the record comÂpaÂny’s objecÂtions. With its focus on musiÂcians, and its approÂpriÂaÂtion of hipÂpie weirdÂness, racist AmerÂiÂcan imagery, and an obsesÂsion with female posÂteÂriÂors that rivals Sir-Mix-a-Lot’s, the covÂer pretÂty much spans the specÂtrum of perenÂniÂal Crumb styles and themes. Above, see anothÂer of CrumÂb’s covÂers, for a comÂpiÂlaÂtion called The Music NevÂer Stopped: Roots of the GrateÂful Dead, which colÂlects such roots and old-school rock and roll artists as MerÂle HagÂgard, Chuck Berry, Bob Dylan, RevÂerend Gary Davis, HowlÂin’ Wolf, and more.
Though he objectÂed to the 1995 assignment—saying to Shanachie Records, “You want all these peoÂple on a CD covÂer? What are they, like, five inchÂes across?”—Crumb must have relÂished the subÂject. (And he was paid, as per usuÂal, in vinÂtage 78s.) Next to those posÂteÂriÂors, CrumÂb’s true love has always been AmerÂiÂcan roots music—ragtime, swing, old counÂtry and blueÂgrass, Delta counÂtry blues—and he has spent a good part of his career illusÂtratÂing artists he loves, and those he doesÂn’t. From famous names like Joplin, Dylan, and B.B. King (above, whose music Crumb said he “didÂn’t care for, but I don’t find it that objecÂtionÂable either”), to much more obscure artists, like Bo Carter, known for his “Please Warm My Wiener,” on the 1974 comÂpiÂlaÂtion album below.
CrumÂb’s use of racialÂly quesÂtionÂable and sexÂist imagery—however satirical—has perÂhaps renÂdered him untouchÂable in some cirÂcles, and it’s hard to imagÂine many of his album covÂers passÂing corÂpoÂrate muster these days. His recent work has moved toward more straightÂforÂward, respectÂful porÂtraiÂture, like that of King and of Skip James on the best-of below, from a series called “Heroes of the Blues.” (Crumb also illusÂtratÂed “Heroes of Jazz” and “Heroes of CounÂtry,” as we feaÂtured in this post.) See CrumÂb’s inimÂitable, loosÂer porÂtrait style again furÂther down in 2002 album art for a group called Hawks and Eagles.
Crumb may have shed some of his more unpalatÂable tenÂdenÂcies, but he hasÂn’t lost his lasÂcivÂiÂous edge. HowÂevÂer, his work has matured over the years, takÂing on seriÂous subÂjects like the book of GenÂeÂsis and the CharÂlie HebÂdo masÂsacre. For an artist with such pecuÂliar perÂsonÂal focus, Crumb is surÂprisÂingÂly verÂsaÂtile, but it’s his album covÂers that comÂbine his two greatÂest loves. “What makes CrumÂb’s art so approÂpriÂate for the album sleeve,” writes The Guardian’s LauÂra BarÂton, “is its vividÂness, and its cerÂtain oomph; it’s in the minÂgling of sex and joy and comÂpulÂsion, and the vibranÂcy and moveÂment of his illusÂtraÂtions.”
Crumb hasÂn’t only comÂbined his art with music fanÂdom, but also with his own musiÂcianÂship, illusÂtratÂing covÂers for sevÂerÂal of his own albums by his ragÂtime band Cheap Suit SerÂeÂnaders. And he even proÂvidÂed the illusÂtraÂtion for the soundÂtrack to his own docÂuÂmenÂtary, as you can see above—an extreme examÂple of the many self-abasÂing porÂtraits Crumb has drawn of himÂself over the years. CrumÂb’s album covÂer art has been colÂlectÂed in a book, and you can see many more of his covÂers at Rolling Stone and on this list here.
AbidÂing by the strong rules he estabÂlished for the charÂacÂters in the Looney Tunes staÂble was critÂiÂcal to his comÂic approach, as Jones explains in the above video essay, a bit of a deparÂture for Tony Zhou’s celÂeÂbratÂed cinÂeÂma series, Every Frame a PicÂture. Rather than examÂine the framÂing and timÂing of “one of the all-time masÂters of visuÂal comÂeÂdy,” this time Zhou delves into the evoÂluÂtion of his subject’s artisÂtic senÂsiÂbilÂiÂties.
Jones teased out the desires that became the priÂmaÂry engines for those charÂacÂters’ physÂiÂcalÂiÂty as well as their behavÂior. Daffy comes off as an unhinged lunatic in his earÂly appearÂances. His comÂic potenÂtial grew once Jones reframed him as a conÂnivÂer who’d do anyÂthing in purÂsuit of wealth and gloÂry.
Zhou also draws attenÂtion to the evoÂluÂtion of the charÂacÂters’ expresÂsions, from the antic to the ecoÂnomÂiÂcal. John Belushi was not the only comÂic genius to underÂstand the powÂer of a raised eyeÂbrow.
Like many chilÂdren of the 70s, I was wild for Charles Schulz’s Peanuts, and had the merÂchanÂdise to prove it. I was a Snoopy girl, for the most part, but not averse to receivÂing items feaÂturÂing othÂer characters—Linus, SchroedÂer, the causÂtic Lucy, PigÂPen, and, of course, CharÂlie Brown. My father was a suckÂer for the comÂparÂaÂtiveÂly butch PepÂperÂmint PatÂty, and MarÂcie, the bespecÂtaÂcled hangÂer-on who referred to PatÂty as “Sir.”
But there was one charÂacÂter I don’t rememÂber seeÂing on any Peanuts swag in 1970s IndiÂana…. ActuÂalÂly, that’s not accuÂrate. I don’t rememÂber any Shermy sweatÂshirts. Female secÂond bananas like VioÂlet, the origÂiÂnal, i.e. non-PepÂperÂmint PatÂty, and FrieÂda were also underÂrepÂreÂsentÂed, despite the latter’s oft-menÂtioned natÂuÂralÂly curly hair.
The charÂacÂter I’m thinkÂing of nevÂer became a major playÂer, but he was notable. Ground-breakÂing even. Can you guess?
Thats right: Franklin, the only African-AmerÂiÂcan memÂber of the Peanuts gang.
(An African-AmerÂiÂcan todÂdler, Milo, below, had a 17-strip run in 1977 when CharÂlie Brown had to skip town after exactÂing his revenge on the kite-eatÂing tree… That’s it. Poor Franklin.)
Franklin owes his exisÂtence, in large part, to HarÂriÂet GlickÂman, a white teacher from LA, who found letÂter writÂing one of the few forms of activism in which a mothÂer of three children—all squareÂly withÂin the Peanuts demographic—could fulÂly parÂticÂiÂpate. Raised by libÂerÂal parÂents to conÂsidÂer herÂself a globÂal citÂiÂzen, and to speak out against injusÂtice, she wrote the authors of sevÂerÂal leadÂing comÂic strips in the wake of Dr. MarÂtin Luther King’s assasÂsiÂnaÂtion in April, 1968. Would the creÂators of Peanuts and Mary Worth conÂsidÂer introÂducÂing a black charÂacÂter into the mix, as a first step on what GlickÂman foreÂsaw as a “long and torÂtuÂous road” toward a future cliÂmate of “open friendÂship, trust and mobilÂiÂty” between the races?
Mary Worth’sAllen SaunÂders declined, apparÂentÂly sayÂing that he shared GlickÂman’s senÂtiÂments but feared the synÂdiÂcate would drop his strip if he folÂlowed her sugÂgesÂtion.
Schulz didn’t exactÂly leap at the chance, either, sayÂing that he was in the same boat as the othÂer symÂpaÂthetÂic carÂtoonÂists who’d begged off. What he feared wasn’t so much the syndicate’s response, as the susÂpiÂcion that he might be seen as “patronÂizÂing our Negro friends.”
GlickÂman perÂsistÂed, askÂing his perÂmisÂsion to share his letÂter with some of her “Negro friends,” all parÂents. PerÂhaps they could offer some thoughts that might induce the carÂtoonÂist to say yes.
I’d like to express an opinÂion as a Negro father of two young boys. We have a sitÂuÂaÂtion in AmerÂiÂca in which racial enmiÂty is conÂstantÂly porÂtrayed.
Like GlickÂman, he felt that a “casuÂal day-to-day scene” feaÂturÂing a non-white charÂacÂter would give his sons and othÂer chilÂdren of colÂor a chance to see themÂselves reflectÂed in the strip, while proÂmotÂing “racial amiÂty” to readÂers of all races.
GlickÂman expressed hope that Peanuts would evenÂtuÂalÂly grow to include more than one black child:
Let them be as adorable as the others…but please…allow them a Lucy!
WithÂin weeks of receivÂing Kelly’s letÂter, and just over two months into Glickman’s letÂter-writÂing camÂpaign, Schulz reached a deciÂsion. He wrote GlickÂman that she should check the paper the week of July 29, 1968.
Franklin, his skin tone indiÂcatÂed by closeÂly set diagÂoÂnal lines, made his debut in a bathing suit, returnÂing CharÂlie Brown’s runÂaway beach ball. The encounter took three days to play out, durÂing which Franklin and CharÂlie Brown form an alliance of vacaÂtionÂing chilÂdren whose usuÂal playÂmates are elseÂwhere. It would seem that the major difÂferÂence between them is that Franklin’s dad is in VietÂnam. ObviÂousÂly, a lot of thought went into their casuÂal diaÂlogue.
Benign as Franklin was, his presÂence sparked outÂrage. Some SouthÂern readÂers cried foul when he showed up in the same classÂroom as MarÂcie and PepÂperÂmint PatÂty. OthÂers felt Franklin wasn’t black enough.
UltiÂmateÂly Franklin nevÂer achieved A‑list staÂtus, but he did resÂonate with cerÂtain readÂers, notably William Bell, a diverÂsiÂty offiÂcer workÂing with the CincinÂnati Police DepartÂment.
VisÂit MashÂable to see reproÂducÂtions of GlickÂman and Schulz’s corÂreÂsponÂdence. And watch the video above to hear more about her upbringÂing and anothÂer comÂic that feaÂtured black charÂacÂters, DateÂline: DanÂger!, a colÂlabÂoÂraÂtion between SaunÂders’ son John and artist Al McWilliams.
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