Arty Farty

Back in college, one of the few professors who really showed up to teach was Mr. Jimmy Delos Santos, whose Aesthetics and Art Criticism lessons were some of the most memorable ones in my last two years of school. In a nutshell, what I learned from them was, as artists, we basically have the responsibility to always be open to improvement, both in technical and substantial aspects of our craft. The lessons that he imparted mostly focused on the lives and works of influential artists, as well as the progression of several art movements that still influence or delight many of us. As an illustrator himself, he encouraged open-mindedness and originality, and discouraged us from adopting “abstract-abstrakan” (pseudo-abstract art) as a style. This, I still feel, was one of the more important lessons I got from school. We were free to pursue what our minds and hands were itching to do, but at the same time, the professor wanted to instill in us the ability to recognize gimmickry disguised as art. And we were expected not to be complacent in our works ourselves.

I mention this now because among the dozens of cheap comic books I recently bought, there were those that stick out because of bad art and storytelling. Uncanny X-Men # 400, for example, had a few pages drawn by Ashley Wood. He’s obviously inspired by Bill Sienkiewicz style-wise, so one can expect the hazy, scratchy linework that characterizes the pioneer’s work. But what’s disappointing about it was its simplistic and confusing presentation. What happened to Stacy X in one particular page? Why was she screaming? What are those rectangular things near her face? Oh, they’re fingers! Because the dialogue implied that she was captured. But was she tickled into captivity? Poked by those thin, rectangular digits? I really couldn’t tell.

When anatomical and facial structures are stylized beyond recognition like that, it just ruins it for me. I’m not a fan of Scott Kolin’s art either—his faces and figures look way too rushed. And he draws several covers and comic books a month. Go figure.

The comics medium has allowed, and continues to allow, diverse art styles. And there have been a number of artists I loathed years ago, like Salvador Larocca (he was Image-y then) and Carlos Pacheco (his figures looked bloopy a decade ago, for some reason), but I now truly admire them and try to learn from their improvements. I hated Ryan Sook’s work before because he was a bad Mignola clone, but I now respect him because he’s proven he can do so much more in Zatanna. They fill out blank pages with dedication and a sense of artistic identity that make the books they worked on worthy of my money.

Buying all those bargain comics also introduced me to a lot of talented newcomers, or artists who’ve been around but deserving of more attention and projects. I look forward to seeing more of them, and reading more superheroic and non-spandex exploits in the hands of very capable creators whose love for their work and the medium are easily evident. More power to all of them. And may they become better artisans that young hopefuls can look up to.