Writing on Ed and Life

It feels like I've written about 10,000 words since the passing of Edward R. Piskor, Jr. (1982-2024) on April 1, and it's only April 12, less than two weeks. I've been gratified to hear from several people, both friends and strangers, who have found some comfort in those words. Of course, I've been writing for completely selfish reasons, to process my own feelings about the tragedy.

I made one blog post and numerous posts on Facebook; I've composed a remembrance for The Comics Journal and another for another print-online comics publication. They are somewhat repetitious and overlap; at some point, I will gather them all here if only so they can be located all in one place for the record, in case I am misquoted or distorted (which seems highly likely in the present toxic environment).

I didn't know Ed all that well, but I can honestly say I knew him before he broke into comics. In the 1990s, after my Image Comics fame (short-lived as it was), I conducted cartooning workshops around Pittsburgh for many years. Ed was never a student of mine, but I must have seen him at a small convention or bookstore appearance in the late 90s; I vaguely recall he was trying to break into Image with a neo-Leifeldian style.

 

Ed, me, and Gary Groth at PIX - The Pittsburgh Indy Comix Expo in 2012.

The second time I ran into Ed I distinctly remember: that was at the 2004 Carnegie International at the Carnegie Museum of Art here in Pittsburgh, which mounted a major Robert Crumb retrospective. Ed showed me his sketchbook, which seemed ever-presented; he had already developed his own unique underground-alternative style that would serve him on Wizzywig, Hip-Hop Family Tree, X-Men: Grand Design, and Red Room. He said I had offered some generic advice and encouragement about the importance on finding one's own voice, and he thanked me, although I can't take any credit whatsoever for his subsequent success.

The industry and passion that fueled Ed's drive to make a career of comics, when it seemed to me the most impossible, was absolutely astonishing. Not only did he survive but thrive. He packed an incredible career into just two decades, which now seem to have gone by with a flash.

In recent years, my table next to Michel Fiffe was right across the aisle from the Kayfabe tables at Heroes Con in Charlotte in 2022 and 2023, and I happened to be right behind them in a small four-table island next to Jill Thompson in 2022 at Baltimore (I could hear Ed and Jim's voices through the curtain all weekend). At both shows, they unloaded their own stuff, did their own setup, no entourage or roadies, and were on their feet all weekend, talking to fans and aspiring cartoonists. They were the ones now dispensing advice to hopefuls wanting to break into comics, not me.

I asked Ed why he didn't do commission or sketches; he said he was too busy talking up comics.

I've told every anecdote I could scrape together from my paltry memory by now. He gave one hell of an academic lecture at PIX in 2012 which I think touched on treasury editions like Superman vs. Spider-Man. The only photo I have of Ed and me together shows us both wearing Pirate caps standing with Gary Groth. I couldn't be more proud of that. One of the Red Room issues features the Eros Comix and Monster Comics logos, both imprints of Fantagraphics I created work for. I'm even more humbled by that.

In recent days, I've lost professional relationships over Ed. One cartoonist, literally on the other side of the world, tried telling me that Ed had become an egotist in recent years and turned some of his fan base against him; I argued back that Ed was only one guy who had his own career to tend to, and if some group of toxic fans thought they owned him they sorely needed find their own lives.

Another cartoonist of my acquaintance who practically grew up with Ed and Jim told me he was rethinking the imagery of death that has played a part in his work; he asked me what I thought about it. I told him not to worry; the Jolly Roger (the skull and cross bones) remains a fun part of Pittsburgh Pirate imagery (fans "raise the Jolly Roger" flag whenever the team wins). Ed was into the Pirates, and besides, I'm not melting down the skull ring I wear at shows.

I think it's good that people are soul-searching and I hope it yields positive results. There is too much toxicity and negativity in comics of late. (But let's not overdo it!)

I'll let you in on a little secret: I haven't read the entirety of the letter Ed left behind; I have not acquainted myself with the entirety of the allegations that were made; I've skimmed only a tiny, minuscule fraction of the news stories from legitimate outlets; and I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in the potshot posts made by people who don't have the integrity to use their actual names.

And I have no intention of immersing myself in all this material, ever. I've thrown in my two cents and, as I said above, I'm gratified if folks take some comfort in what I've had to say. It's too easy to blame all this on an abstract toxic mob, or to blame anybody, for that matter. It's even easier to block it all out and pretend it's not there. All we can do is speak our truth modestly, fallibly, lacking omniscience, and carry on.

Because none of it changes the material fact that Ed Piskor loved comics and threw himself into it entirely, and he's gone now. He left behind a body of work that, after all the noise is filtered out, can speak for itself. Those of us who are lucky enough to be able to claim we knew Ed a little bit in life have no privilege in speaking about the matter except to reflect that positivity and love as best we can.