Comic-Con

Kristahl Takes The Tour
Illustration by Master Matt
I was standing next to the most overweight Spiderman I had ever seen. The superhero’s paunchy belly hung over his stretchy pants as he washed down a hot dog with Diet Coke. Confident in his spandex costume as most people could never aspire to be, he leaned against the wall and winked at She-Ra, Princess of Power, who blushed and turned away coyly. The Flash, aka a seven year-old boy, came zipping through the room of costumed people, as he made a beeline for the restroom, his lightning bolts a blur of urgency.

This was the scene of the Wizard World comic book convention, known by most simply as “Comic-Con,” at the Rosemont Convention Center just outside of Chicago. The floors were lined with Superman-blue and red velvet carpeting, the booths filled with action figures still securely nestled in their packaging, old comics wrapped in plastic sleeves, “vintage” icon t-shirts, and Pokémon collectibles galore. There were D-list celebrities charging $20 for autographs, and grown men walking around proudly in their superhero costumes, often flanked by women wearing little more than corsets and fishnets. There were plenty of light-sabers and other types of dork gear flaunted by the patrons. And if I had a dime for every time I saw a mullet…

Before this event, I knew very little about comics and animé; I had thought Comic-Con would be little more than a gathering of pallid, pubescent teens who had emerged from their parents’ basements into the daylight to trade Magic cards and spend a year’s allowance on Aquaman action figures and 1st issues of Bronze Age DC comics.

Turns out that Comic-Con is a gathering for dorky adolescents—but as the second largest comic convention in the U.S., it has also become an occasion for some of the most talented independent artists to showcase their work and market their books. Earnest and passionate, the artists are all eager to talk about their work and the concepts of their books, and they’re always more than happy to sign your purchases. Prints are usually no more than $5 and comics run around $2. And these artists and their books are definitely worth checking out. So if you want to see for yourself what makes these books so remarkable, here is my comic artist short-list.

David Peterson
David Petersen, author and illustrator of the Mouse Guard comics. The Mouse Guard comics are about a clan of mice dressed up Lord of the Rings-style, complete with capes and swords and intense concentration. They battle snakes, crustaceans, and one another, and despite looking like a group of darling mice in costume, they’re quite a ferocious group of rodents. Intended for ages 10 and older, the stories are illustrated more like children’s books than comics. If the illustrations weren’t set up in panels, one probably wouldn’t even consider them to be comics. The books are 8x8 squares, as opposed to your standard comic book size of 6-1/2x10.

Gris Grimly
Gris Grimly is the illustrator of several books including Boris and Bella by Carolyn Crimi, Grimericks by Susan Pearson, Edgar Allen Poe’s Tales of Mystery and Madness, and the Wicked Nursery Rhymes series. His most recent book, Santa Claws, written by Laura Leuck, is not yet in stores and is nearly impossible to find, as Gris told me himself later that day when he showed up to autograph his books. His illustrations are delightfully icky in a Tim Burtonesque way, with slovenly creatures, almost endearing in their exaggerated unsightliness, rendered in delicate watercolors and ink. Grimly, himself, is an intriguing character with a black leather vest and white button down shirt. He politely stood before a line of eager fans, autographing each of their books along with a sweet little drawing of a skull smiley face. He’s intense and even a little sexy.

Matt Chicorel
Matt Chicorel of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, runs a one-man comic business, Night Light Comics. He is the author and illustrator of The Non-Adventures of Trenchcoat & Kim. The comic is about a “superhero” named Trenchcoat, who, as his name implies, wears a trench coat to protect him from harm. He’s accompanied by his sidekick/best friend, Kim, who joins him in his “non-adventures” while smoking and looking jaded. The most beautiful volumes are Non-Adventures, issue 1, as well as The Bowhunter, a separate comic Chicorel drew while his hand was in a cast. The illustrations are in crisp black and white, without the gaudy excess of detail so common in traditional comic books. In these books Chicorel explores the concept of the 24-hour comic—a 24-page comic drawn in 24 consecutive hours. The artist is not allowed to plan out the comic beforehand, and eating, sleeping, and all other necessary activities are included in the 24 hours.

Josh Johnson
Josh Johnson, who hails from Indiana, is the creator of the Spindletons, a fictional family including a perfect-looking husband with the obligatory tobacco pipe, his wife, their three melancholy children, and their darling cat, Olivia. His work is primarily eerie paintings of people with blank expressions and a sort of Stepford-wife air. The colors are rich and earthy, mixed with indulgently bright blues, purples, and pinks. In addition to his oil paintings, Johnson also creates art with a letterpress, one of the oldest printing techniques. He covers a raised surface in ink and presses it firmly against paper, leaving behind a reverse image. Johnson himself is a pleasant and talkative man who, while explaining his art technique, wound up digressing into a story about his buddy who had an affair with his best friend’s wife. Regardless, his art style was by far the most fascinating at the convention.

Stuart Sayger
Stuart Sayger’s watercolor-illustrated comics, Shiver in the Dark, consist mostly of ethereal women with flawless faces, cascading waves of hair, and ample bosoms, all in soft smoky blues, hazy pinks, and emerald greens. Sayger is a puckish young fellow and probably the most charming of the bunch. With a playful grin he told us the more cleavage his characters have, the better his comics sell.

Which brings me right back to the Comic-Con crowd. There I was, among caped teenagers and corseted temptresses, a comic virgin, totally enthralled with the world of comic books. I had discovered that comics are an art form, with artists and writers who are brilliant in their own right. The convention was a grand time, well worth the $25 entry fee. And it turns out that Comic-Con catered to all sorts of folks, including those like me who respect comics but know very little about them. I’ve vowed to learn more before next year’s convention, which I will most certainly be attending.

And next time, I’ll bring my light-saber.