Showing posts with label Kim Jooha. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kim Jooha. Show all posts

September 2, 2019

The Materiality of Comics in the Post-Digital Age: Kim Jooha examines CF’s Receipt Paper Comics and Selected Works by Ginette Lapalme


Since 2016, CF has made two sets of receipt comics. Each set has three comics made of a sheet of receipt paper around 40 feet. The materiality of the comics shows us CF’s persistent interest in the ephemerality of comics medium.
Receipt paper is cheap, disposable, and ephemeral. It is weak in heat and sunlight; it changes color and loses the ink. It is not intended to be archived for a long time. It is not to be re-read several times. Once you read it, it is hard to re-roll it and the re-rolled “zine” differs greatly from the original state.
As we communicate more on screens and less with the physical paper — books, newspapers, and magazines — receipt paper is the most used kind of paper right now. We could argue that CF’s receipt zines criticize the fall of civilized discourse, which could be symbolized by the physical paper media of books, newspapers, and magazines, as well as the rise of the “fake news” by highlighting the remnant of the physical paper that only matters when money is involved and is fleeting, just as social media is.
Beginning in the late 90s, as part of Paper Radio (with Ben Jones), CF utilized the low cost of newspaper paper to distribute comics freely. Paper Rodeo, the newspaper anthology CF, Fort Thunder, and Paper Rad (which Ben Jones was part of) participated, was also freely distributed. The newspaper paper shares impermanence and cheapness (both in the price and quality) of receipt paper. They produced these zines secretly at photocopiers not paying for printing. Their confusing names (Paper Radio/Rad /Rodeo) and the fact that Paper Rodeo does not have credits adds to the difficulty of archiving these zines.  
Not only the distribution and material practice but also CF’s style tells us the artist’s interest in the ephemeral nature of comics. Arguably one of the most influential but under-discussed practices of CF was utilizing a pencil as the main tool. Coinciding with the fast-drawn style that focuses on the fleeting moments and art rather than the structure of the whole narrative, pencil-drawn Powr Mastrs was one of the most influential comics of the last decade in art/alternative comics.
That one of CF’s receipt zines was originally published in Volcan anthology as two-dimensional pages but then re-edited as one-dimensional rolling receipt paper, as well as the fact that the CF receipt zine set contains other artists’ zines like Carlos Gonzales, show that CF’s attention was in the material practice, rather than the contents of the zines.
Finally, the receipt zine progresses in a one-dimension contrast to the two-dimensional traditional paper medium including print comics, newspapers, books, and magazines. While perpendicular, it reminds us of the smartphone vertical infinite scrolling interface we use every day. We could connect this aspect with the death of established print media discussed above.
*****
Ginette Lapalme on Reproduction
Female-centric cultural practices such as embroidery have been relegated as mere “craft” of ethnographic records as opposed to high art like paintings or sculptures [1]. Another point of contention is originality versus reproduction (copying): craft is something deferential, but the concept of originality comes from a “genius man”. The gendered (sexist) divide also occurs when women are the majority of audience of a cultural product: thrillers or war movies are critically appraised and included in the canon, but “chick flicks” or romantic comedy are not; sex and violence are edgy, but “girly” and “feminine” cuteness is not.
   
Ginette Lapalme mediates such division of gendered high and low art with cute artworks interrogating the concept of reproduction and originality

Lapalme’s works come from the process of reproduction. It means two things: first, in a reproduced medium such as zines, comics, and apparel, Lapalme produces each distinct “copy”. One of the most fascinating examples of this is Climb-ing Mushroom Fabric Zine (2018), a silkscreen zine of dyed and bleached fabric (canvas) instead of sheets of paper. Every zine has the same drawings/silkscreens of characters, but each copy “is unique in its coloring and also slightly different in its composition page to page” by varying the size, color, or position of tie-dyed fabric flap or color and size of fabric sheets.
   
Second, Lapalme’s cute artworks are often made from vernacular ugly/cute mass-produced objects. For example, Lapalme adds her paintings or sculptures to Made-in-China stationeries. In A Little Sampling (2019), Lapalme juxtaposes her drawings and sketchbook pages with vernacular clipboard images, re-drawn clipboard images, and computer-edited images of both. In a way, all artistic motives are clip-art, appropriated again and again. Lapalme’s incredibly cute beings could be clip art too. They populate Lapalme’s artistic world: sketchbooks, zines, paintings, sculptures, apparel, comics, drawings, pins, earrings, etc.

Lapalme produced My Stamps Collection (2019) while carving dozens of stamps into the likeness of her aforementioned cute creatures. She reproduces images from her hand-made stamps to create this zine. Lapalme also produced a poster with these stamps. Compared to A Little Sampling, Lapalme materialized an analog “clip art” database of her artworks as stamps. But there is a twist about My Stamps Collection: many of the images are similar, but are in actuality a little bit different from each other, reminding the viewer of comics’ principal dialectic relationship of repetition and difference. Because Lapalme created zines as she was sculpting stamps, she was able to record the trace of transient stamps. We cannot reproduce these images anymore because the source (the transient stamp) is carved away to reproduce slightly different images. The ontology of the image does not exist anymore.
   
Ginette Lapalme intervenes related dichotomies of high and low art and originality and reproduction. In the digital age where reproduction is extremely easy and universal — copy and paste are implemented as a basic function of a computer — by focusing on physicalities of "crafty" objects such as fabrics and stamps, Lapalme shows the potential of images that have not been appreciated.
[1] Lucy Lippard. From the Center: Feminist Essays on Women’s Art. 1976
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kim Jooha lives in Toronto, Canada. She was Associate Publisher at 2dcloud. You can find her writings at kimjooha.com and 
@realasianfriend on Instagram.

December 10, 2018

BOOKS WE LIKED 2018: Rob Clough, Kim Jooha, Alex Hoffman, and Keith Silva

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. That’s right -- it’s BEST OF season when comic sites large and small churn out their lists, anointing subjective BESTS and, thereby, relegating thousands upon thousands of unlisted comics to the long box of Misfit Toys.

We here at Your Chicken Enemy are uncomfortable with these implications of creating BEST OF lists. Instead, we focus on celebrating ALL that is good in small press/self-published comics. Our site is built on an appreciation for diversity, admiration of artists, respect for the craft, and, of course, sandwiches.  

So, in lieu of the traditional BEST OF list, Publisher and EiC of YCE, Daniel Elkin, has gathered his flock of (Chicken) Enemies and asked them for their contributions to Your Chicken Enemy’s inaugural
Today’s BOOKS WE LIKED 2018 features books liked by Rob Clough, Kim Jooha, Alex Hoffman, and Keith Silva.

Rob Clough:
Frontier #17: "Mother's Walk" 
by Lauren Weinstein 
Published by Youth In Decline 
Available HERE

This is a visceral, dense, and immersive journey into Weinstein's experience giving birth to her second child. It's funny and harrowing in equal measures, and there's a level of intimacy shared here that would be uncomfortable if it wasn't for Weinstein's disarming sense of humor. Weinstein mixes paint, intense scribbles, and traditional cartooning to create a visual space that approximates the way time and reality warped for her as she was ready to give birth. Weinstein's project has always been reconciling the personal with the cosmic. Our being embodied beings living in moments of time is a recapitulation of the mysteries of the cosmos, and there's no greater mystery than birth. The heart of the comic is her exploration of love: with her husband, with her children and most especially the love she saw develop in her daughter for her new sister. This comic is a powerful experience and a loving gift to readers, as Weinstein invited them to be witnesses to her memory.


Your Black Friend And Other Strangers
by Ben Passmore 
Published by Silver Sprocket 
Available HERE

The success of the titular story in this volume brought Passmore a great deal of attention, but the truth is that he's been at this for a long time. This volume establishes Passmore as a preeminent political cartoonist whose work is also intensely personal. "Your Black Friend" is an unnerving, uncomfortable work about the harmful assumptions even "woke" white people make in general, but it's also particular to Passmore's experience as a biracial person of color. Indeed, every story in the book is driven by Passmore's experience of feeling betwixt and between with regard to race, his status as an anarchist and punk, and his very ability to make meaningful connections with others. His grotesque, cartoonish character design and psychedelic and even lurid use of color allow him to emphasize his ideas while using restraint in talking about them. Passmore is also an incisive reporter and political commentator, offering cogent but hilariously scorched-earth analyses of topics related to white supremacy, capitalism, and respectability politics. This book is an eye-opener at both the conceptual and visual levels.


Angloid
by Alex Graham 
Published by Kilgore Books
Available HERE

Comics about the life of an artist are more common these days, from Walter Scott's Wendy books to Matthew Thurber's searing Art Comic. Alex Graham's collection of short stories from her series Cosmic Be-Ing share much in common with Thurber's absurdity and Scott's account of the artist as hard living weirdo. Angloid explores a number of issues, including the concept of femininity, the worth of an artist in a capitalist system, androgyny, and body dysmorphia. The eponymous Angloid is a genuine hard-drinking weirdo and happy to be one, only the world doesn't seem very happy to see her. Graham has a talent for depicting the grotesque and is unsparing in depicting Angloid's antisocial tendencies, severe depression, and penchant for harmful excess. Angloid's success in getting a job and a boyfriend relied on her shedding her preferred androgynous look in favor of being a traditional sexpot, and this is a rather pointed commentary on Graham's part. Despite her self-loathing and fractious personality, the cosmic beings who manifest throughout the book love her unconditionally, and this is actually a powerful statement of self-love on Graham's part. Angloid has the qualities of a compelling fever dream from which one can never awaken, with shifting understandings of reality that all seem to make sense in the moment. It's also one long, hilarious existential howl at the very idea of being embodied and the seeming impossibility of creating meaningful art as an act of communication. 

Kim Jooha:

Fruit of Knowledge: The Vulva vs. The Patriarchy
by Liv Strömquist
Published by Fantagraphics Books
Available HERE


I had arrogantly looked down on recent "graphic nonfiction"s as a generic, shallow, and money-grabbing fad, as I skim through their wordy pages, talking heads, and mere illustrations of words.

Reading Fruit of Knowledge, I realized that I had been wrong. Comics, having both words and image, help the reader understand the matter effortlessly compared to either word or image alone. That is why every biology textbook is covered with hundreds of diagrams. I had mistaken one of the most fundamental strengths of the medium as a weakness. I was so pretentious in the tiny avant comics world that I misinterpreted the "being easily read" as conforming.

Fruit of Knowledge is far from conforming. It made me realize my mistake by being sharp and smart both in the contents and delivery. I had thought I would have known most of the contents, but I had not and I assume you do not too. It is not another generic feminist comic (although we do need thousands of such comics).  It is required reading for 2018 and later until every page of the book becomes common sense (which is actually how the world should be).
Drone
by Mushbuh
Self-Published
Contact Mushbuh HERE


Mushbuh is the most critical webcomic artist working today. Mushbuh's comics depict the late capitalist online culture. People live in shipping containers and Amazon Prime boxes together with drones. They drink Soylent and eat instant ramen. The exchange of value happens via Paypal and cryptocurrency. The human interaction occurs via YouTube live streaming. People are sad and lonely. Just as the outside (physical) world means little, their actual shapes (representations) are falling apart. But Mushbuh's comics are not grim. They are incredibly funny, just as "Humans of Late Capitalism" memes are. Without any grandiose pretention, Mushbuh renders the contemporary society more impeccably than anyone, completing it by demolishing the representation.

Tal-co Ilgi [Talco Diary]
Available HERE

Tal-co Diary depicts a South Korean woman rebelling against the strict standard of female beauty in South Korea by shaving her hair and refusing to wear "girl clothes" and the misogynist society against her. Tal-co, an abbreviation of Tal-corset, is such act of contemporary South Korean feminist movement.

While being the most educated in the world, South Korean women suffer the enormous sexism. South Korea is most misogynic country among industrially developed country (its neighbor Japan is the next). Its gender pay gap is the biggest, violence against women is the most common, and political power of women is the least among OECD countries. Abortion is illegal. Spy-cam is everywhere, especially in public washrooms. Just as its K-beauty and K-pop are enormously popular worldwide (especially in Asia), its impossible beauty standard is enforced to women. If you do not fit the specific female beauty standard, you are ugly and thus you cannot get a job. You need to get plastic surgeries to get a job, only to get fired after pregnancy.

For the last few years, similar to the West, South Korea saw the reemergence of the feminist movement mostly through social media. Because comics, especially webcomics (called Webtoon), are one of the most popular entertainment in South Korea, the new feminist movement influences many artists and audiences. Sadly mainstream publishers (Line, Kakao, or Lezhin) are male-centric and slow to adapt to social change, but thanks to the development of the crowd-funding tools like Kickstarter, influential and popular feminist-themed comics by women artists can make money. The Tal-co Diary crowd-funder reached 150K USD only about a week after the launch and became the most funded project ever.
South Korean misogyny is deep and systemic. However, our passion for equality is only stronger.

Alex Hoffman:
I Love You: Stories and Cartoons 
by Sara Lautman
Published by Retrofit Comics
Available HERE

For this “Books We Liked” series, I decided to write about books I haven’t already reviewed at Sequential State, so please forgive that small discretion. My first choice is I Love You: Stories and Cartoons by Sara Lautman, a recent release from Retrofit. Lautman is a cartoonist for the New Yorker, among other places, and this collection of short stories collects some recent and vital work of hers. Lautman’s cartooning is scratchy and ink-dense, messy in the soothing way that messy can sometimes be. The collection has a variety of pieces, most of them funny, some political. My favorite of the book “Our Platform” is a series of collected vignettes that all happen inside the same subway platform. Lautman says goodbye to someone, possibly a lover, at the end of their relationship. Swirling around this final goodbye, people swear at each other, hug and make out, meditate on the strangeness of their lives, and make amends. It’s a subtle story, but messy in a very human way. At its best, I Love You expresses a human connectedness so intense and visceral that it hurts; Lautman’s stories dig into the heart of you. Her comics make me want to make comics.

Little Pieces
by Giulia Sagramola
Self-Published
Available HERE

Staying on theme, my second selection is Giulia Sagramola’s recent self-published release Little Pieces. Sagramola is an Italian cartoonist who recently exhibited at CAB - I got this book shortly afterward, and I was impressed by Sagramola’s wit and her lovely color blocking. The introductory piece in the collection, “Creative Process” is a wry and funny needling of artists. I found the collection emotionally generous, and Sagramola an observant cartoonist. While most of the comics are good, the book is truly driven by the last story in the collection, “The first time I traveled alone,” which is a period piece set in the late 90s about a teen girl named Silvia lying to her grandmother so that she can get on a train and meet a boy she has been flirting with online. Of course, this is the late 90s, so all this flirting has been going on via email. Silvia learns that expectations aren’t always reality, but the story is tender and written in a way that emphasizes both the strange sweetness of human connection and the era of pre-Facebook, pre-Twitter internet. Seeing earbuds plugged into a Sony Walkman will always take me back.

Dognurse
by Margot Ferrick
Published by Perfectly Acceptable Press
Available HERE

And finally for something different: Margot Ferrick’s Dognurse was a surprise delight - I wasn’t expecting to see something so soon after her book Yours was released by 2dcloud last year. In Dognurse, a child named Songy has a strange nose and a disease called mumble-mouth that makes her speech hard to understand. A nurse named Dognurse comes to her home to help care for her. This book gets Ferrick back to more traditional cartooning, but contains many of the same stylistic choices as her most recent work, especially around the way text is handled. The story of Dognurse is about parental neglect and the facade of care, but it’s an opaque comic and rewards close reading. Ferrick’s art throughout the book is beautiful, a lush mix of heavy colors, decadent linework, and a fullness of figure you won’t see in other comics. Something else to consider - Dognurse was published as a deluxe printed art object by small press Perfectly Acceptable earlier this year. The price point for the book was eyebrow-raising, but the book is a testament to thoughtful design, and how the book as a print object affects our perception of the contained work.

Keith Silva:
How to Make a Sandwich
by Vicky Leta
Self-Published
Available HERE

Vicky Leta’s How to Make a Sandwich hits like a craving: hard, fast and powerful. From the brio of the opening words, “First, you gotta assemble the shit,” to the rawness of the final image, Leta straight devastates.
  
All this over a sandwich? Yes. And no. Leta’s need to understand and to be understood doesn’t stop her from delivering on her word. Her recipe for a tomato and mozzarella sandwich brimming with basil and garlic on bread so fresh it barely needs toasting creates a powerful hunger, a mean hunger. It’s at this tipping point between the hot burn of desire and the cool detachment of logic—and the legions of other demons therein—where Leta et al. live all the damn time. There’s no “getting over” food, there’s only living with what we choose to eat and the awareness, that gut feeling, our harshest critic lies within.     

How to Make a Sandwich is an empathy delivery device, its judgments harsh and personal. So too are its sympathies and understanding. Leta means to wound, means to make her experience felt, but above all, she wants to heal, to live, because that’s how to make a sandwich.

That Box We Sit On 
by Richie Pope
Self-Published
Available HERE

 As humans, we’re well to give joy a pass, the side-eye, the high-hat. Comics imply delight; hell, it’s in the name, dammit. Instead, we deride, we attack and refuse to see the beam in our own eye while we nitpick others to dust. Enough.

That Box We Sit On by Richie Pope goes another way. Check that, it swaggers away and leaves fools in its wake.
  
Perhaps that’s what this year’s voters of the Ignatz Award for Outstanding Artist saw in Pope’s ninety-six panels of perfection, the joy in two boys with big imaginations and the box that provides more than a place to sit. What separates That Box We Sit On from near about everything is how open it is imagination and possibilities while keeping loose with its judgments. Pope passes on easy moralizing to celebrate the importance of being present in a shared experience.  

Every reader who comes to That Box We Sit On will find purchase for different ideas, interpretations, and meanings. That’s Pope’s point, in order to experience that joy you got to be there, on That Box We Sit On. So get up on it.      



October 29, 2018

Comics Reading as Voyeurism and the Illusion of Continuity and Narrative: Kim Jooha on CHRISTMAS IN PRISON by Conor Stechschulte

Exploiting the form and the mechanism of comics, Conor Stechschulte interrogates the most rooted assumption of comics reading in Christmas in Prison

In Christmas in Prison, there are three sets of a dozen short comics distributed in seemingly random order, in that the same set of comics are not next to each other. 


The first set has a panel on a page that features a character speaking directly to the reader. The overall page image is the same within the story, and only the words change. The characters talks and asks about peeking, mirrors, light, windows, shadows, silhouettes, dreams, memories, and perception. 

The second set is comprised of six-panel wordless comics. It explicitly manifests that it is a surveillance video. We see the character unnerved and conscious of the invasive camera. We see the shadow of the cameraman. A character tries to stop the cameraman. We see the video “noise” of a VCR.

Another set of wordless comics has two panels on a page. It is more abstract in that it doesn’t show a character’s action. Several motifs that appeared in other stories also show up here: books, (reading) hands, water and clouds, trees, houses, windows, (street and desk) lights, shadows, and silhouettes. 

An intruding gaze permeates Christmas in Prison as the second set of comics directly shows. The first set implies this gaze through its use of dialogue. The third set implicitly displays it.

It is natural for the reader to look for the theme of the entire book across the three sets since they are structured together within this book. Moreover, it is tempting and feels logical to do so because each set of comics seem to share the aforementioned motives of gaze, perception, reading, light, etc. However, under close scrutiny, these motives/images are indeed different. They are similar but not the same. 

For example, the postman on the yellow page of the character talking on page 34 and in the second surveillance video on page 45 look incredibly similar. But the former is wearing glasses and short sleeves, while the latter is wearing a long-sleeves.

 A silhouette of and the image of the house appear several times. But sometimes it does have a window so that we can see the shadow of a person living in it (as in the first wordless comics), but sometimes it does not (as on the yellow pages).


A watchtower on the cover is not in the forest, although the woman in the water says so. There is a fire at the end of the book, but it’s not on the prairie as she saw in her dream. 


Finally, almost at the end of the book, we see the window of the bookstore. There is a book opened. With two panels on a page and a silhouette of a house, a person, and the water, it looks like the book refers to the book we are holding right now. But there are no such pages in Christmas in Prison.


With the extra-fictional hands and characters talking directly to the reader, Christmas in Prison invokes self-reflexibility for the reader and encourages us to think about the act we are doing right now: seeing and reading traces of characters and their behaviors and, thereby, inferring their lives. The reader is not only seeing, but they are forced to gaze intensively to spot the differences in the images. Stechschulte forces the reader to contemplate the meaning of the lives of these characters who are the object of reader's gaze. Thus the reader becomes a peeping tom. The act of reading (seeing, understanding, and inferring) comics is another form of surveillance. Our voyeuristic desire makes us read and think about comics. 


However, our attempt does not succeed. We expect the comic to have a theme, message, and narrative that unites the discrete parts. But Christmas In Prison refuses to have a unified story. It has a dozen different alternative titles. It defies the presumption of readers to read similar motives as Stechschulte relates them and, instead, emphasize their differences, just as individual stories are printed in different printing methods.

Comics consist of discrete units (panels), and we assume that these separate units (panels) are related to each other. We suppose that the similar image that appears in the later or previous panel refers to the same object. This is the principle of comics reading as the dialectic of repetition and difference as Thierry Groensteen argued in The System of Comics (1999). The reader creates a continuous story out of the discrete units. Christmas in Prison, with its aforementioned self-reflexive instruments, questions this principal assumption of comics. Our habit of finding sameness among different images as a comics reader deludes us to look for the sameness that does not exist, just as the book at the end of Christmas in Prison is not Christmas in Prison. It is an illusion.  

Christmas in Prison, therefore, asks if the narrative of comics is an illusion that the voyeuristic reader looks for and carves out of manufactured memories of discrete images. An illusion which is a dream. 

The disturbing feeling that occurs after the reading Christmas in Prison is both from confronting the truth of our voyeuristic desire and a yearning for the illusion of comics narrative. 

ReferencesJean-Louis Baudry, Ideological Effects of the Basic Cinematic Apparatus (1970)
                      Laura Mulvey, Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema (1975)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Kim Jooha lives in Toronto, Canada. She was Associate Publisher at 2dcloud. You can find her writings at goodcomicsbykim.tumblr.com and @realasianfriend on Instagram.