Thursday, July 16, 2015

Dave Schreiner on Megaton Man: "Yet He Still Goes Forth!"


Megaton Man: The Kitchen Sink Years, Part I

Megaton Man #1 was originally a one-shot comic book that I created over a 13-month period between early 1983 and early 1984, mostly while washing dishes at Union Street restaurant on Woodward Avenue in Detroit. I was 22 years old at the time, and although I had been drawing since the age of 5, and dreaming up characters since at least junior high school, Megaton Man was the new kid on the block in terms of my imagination, created only in 1982. Whereas previous creations had been mostly dramatic adventure characters of one sort or another that never left my sketchbook, Megaton Man was a humorous spoof of superhero clichés that seemed flexible enough to channel my various artistic influences, from Steranko to Neal Adams, which I was struggling to reconcile into my own style, and serve as the basis for my first full-length comic book.

Flying by the seat of my pants, I created Megaton Man #1 a few pages at a time, hoping the final result would demonstrate my skill and versatility as a writer and artist as well as my knowledge of comics lore, and still hold together as a single work. Overworked passages and stylistic self-indulgences which in another context might detract from and disrupt the reading experience could, in a satire, be passed off as comedic exaggerations and actually serve the underlying concept: a deconstruction of the superhero genre. As such, I did not have a 300-issue story arc in mind, or even much of an imaginary world mapped out for the character, and didn’t really need one. I relied on the structure provided by the standard superhero yarns I was parodying, and could count on the reader’s familiarity with formulaic plot structures and play on their programmed expectations to sustain the issue.

I really hadn’t expected Megaton Man #1 to be published, however. At most I hoped just to get my foot in the door with some publisher as a letterer or production assistant. However, much to my surprise, Kitchen Sink Press, a small publisher of underground comix and classic comic book and comic strip reprints, offered not only to publish inaugural effort (in color, no less), but also wondered if I could produce Megaton Man as an ongoing series! [1] Naturally, I jumped at the opportunity, with no clear plan in mind. It would be a learning experience for both parties, since the company was new to color publishing and had no prior experience issuing an open-ended comic book series by an individual creator on a regular frequency, and indeed had no track record of breaking in such a young creator. In any case, from late 1984 to summer 1986, I managed to cobble together a total of ten bi-monthly issues of Megaton Man.

Megaton Man was one of three color series published at the time by Kitchen Sink Press. The first had been Will Eisner’s The Spirit, debuting in 1983 to much fanfare, which reprinted the more artistically accomplished postwar stories of the classic character (a preview of Megaton Man #1 appeared in The Spirit #8). Painstakingly recolored by Pete Poplaski and Ray Fehrenbach using a lavish method of Cel-Vinyl paint on greylines with an additional shading overlay, The Spirit was successful in color but expensive to produce and publish by itself. (Indeed, it is highly implausible that an untested, unknown creator would be given the unprecedented opportunity to produce an ongoing, creator-owned color series on the strength of talent alone; more likely, a superhero parody could be seen as a pretty safe bet in the superhero-dominated marketplace, an yet at the same time did not violate the imprint’s bona fides as an alternative, non-superhero company.) Death Rattle, an underground horror anthology, revived as a rather tepid suspense series, was the last series to join The Spirit and Megaton Man in color. (Rand Holmes’ two-part Harold Hedd: Hitler’s Cocaine, an earlier, costly experiment in color, had already come and gone by the time Megaton Man #1 appeared.) Of the three titles, Megaton Man had been the only series to remain profitable for the publisher for the entirety of its run; the other two titles had started out strong, but sales for each soon fell to an unprofitable level. For more or less a year, in other words, Megaton Man had been propping up the flagging Kitchen Sink color line.

Around the time I was completing Megaton Man #7, Kitchen Sink decided it would discontinue publishing color comics altogether in the coming months, with Megaton Man #9 tentatively slated as the last color issue of the series. In Amazing Heroes Preview, a semi-annual Fantagraphics publication that forecast upcoming industry releases, we had already announced my intention of ending Megaton Man with issue #12, and I had already drawn covers for those issues, although the stories were little more than notes scribbled on a legal pad.  In a meeting with Denis, Dave, and Pete Poplaski (I was living at the Kitchen Sink offices at the time), I was given the choice of finishing out Megaton Man (or continuing the series indefinitely) in black and white, or creating a new series better suited to the black and white format. I already had in mind Border Worlds, an experimental back-up feature I had begun as a back-up feature in Megaton Man #6, as the project I wanted to tackle next, and thought that series would work better in black and white. I also felt that I could comfortably compress the remaining ideas I had for Megaton Man into three more issues instead of five, and we agreed at that meeting that issue #10 would be the last issue of the series and the final color comic book Kitchen Sink would publish for the time being. 

The Search Begins but the Color Line is About to End: A successful year of Megaton Man is not enough to offset losses on the color Spirit and Death Rattle. Megaton Man #7 (Kitchen Sink Press, December 1985).

Border Worlds, a brooding science fiction saga featuring a female protagonist living on a doomed space station, was altogether different in feeling and tone from the relatively upbeat and lively Megaton Man. No doubt, I was asking a lot of my audience to follow me from one series to the other. But sales of Border Worlds #1 were strong, and I was optimistic that I could win fans over, and I put my heart and soul into the series, tapping influences from Ridley Scott’s Alien to Moebius and Wally Wood, along with classic black and white cinema. However, as the series unfolded (and as the market experienced a sudden glut of independent black and white comics), sales of Border Worlds steadily declined, soon falling to a point where royalties could no longer support my extremely modest lifestyle. After seven issues, I made the very painful decision to place Border Worlds on indefinite hiatus while I accepted freelance assignments from other companies, primarily DC Comics and Mirage Studios (I was the only artist to appear in all 18 issues of John Ostrander and Del Close’s creepy proto-Vertico anthology Wasteland, and also drew a couple Flash stories; I also made some minor contributions to the early Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles mythos).

As 1987 rolled around, I wanted to write and draw my own work again, and realized I had more Megaton Man ideas after all, sufficient for at least four more issues, comprising #11-14. I shared a sketchy outline of my ideas with Kitchen Sink Press. Even before the first issue of Megaton Man had appeared, in the fall of 1984 (and before I’d met him), the late Kitchen Sink editor Dave Schreiner (1946-2003) had remarked in an internal memorandum,
I’m optimistic about the character. When I read the initial issue I wondered how long the parody-satire could continue before the well ran dry. Comics’ “Silver Age” is a damn limited field. But I see that Mr. Simpson seems to be moving away from pure satire of comics into social satire. If he keeps moving in that direction, the character has an unlimited future. […] His [Megaton Man’s] naiveté combined with his downright stupidity makes him the perfect character for satire. […] You can do anything with a guy like that, as long as it’s believable within his own frame of reference. I’m looking at Megaton Man as a long-range character. [Continue to] Parody the movies and comic books, but keep looking at how we live in today’s world. [2]
Of my plans for new Megaton Man issues, Dave wrote directly to me in 1987,
I’m glad you’re thinking seriously about bringing him back. [...] I think it’s about time you stopped viewing the character as merely your vehicle to boff on the comics biz, and you should also stop viewing him as simply the comic relief with his “silly fight scenes.” What you have built, quite possibly unintentionally, is a very likeable character that people seem to care about—much more than they care about any of the other subsidiary characters. This is not to say that the other characters are not important, but it is time to give MM his due. He’s dumb; he’s a freak; he’s not in control of anything he does—he’s manipulated and used. And yet, he retains a “good heart”—he wants to do the right thing—and he has a lot of spirit. And, to top it off, he has an awareness that he possesses all the aforementioned buffoon-like qualities. Yet he still goes forth and faces what he has to face. None of the other characters in MM have these qualities. [3]
As I made clear to the publisher, it was important to my own sense of creating a body of work that the numbering of Megaton Man continue, despite the hiatus, with Megaton Man #11, and the publisher provisionally agreed. When I sent in a cover sketch and plot notes, Denis responded, “Your MM #11 cover Xerox and letter just arrived. I love the cover – it’ a great pose and gag.” However, he wondered if the new release should have #1 on the cover, possibly packaged as an annual. [4]

Next: Whatever Happened to Megaton Man #11?

[1] In 1984, in response to my submission of Megaton Man #1, Denis wondered, “Is this a one-shot or can a continuity be maintained? If this is a one-shot, we can go for all it’s worth, and then maybe you’ll want to tackle something altogether different.” Denis Kitchen, letter to Don Simpson, March 1, 1984.
[2] Dave Schreiner, undated memorandum to Denis Kitchen, attached to Denis Kitchen, letter to Don Simpson, October 25, 1984).
[3] Dave Schreiner, letter to Don Simpson, February 15, 1987.
[4] Denis Kitchen, letter to Don Simpson, April 2, 1987.

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Illustration and Art History: Beyond the Snob Barrier

A couple of commercial artist acquaintances asked me last night why illustration wasn't covered in their art history class at The Art Institute of Philadelphia. I have touched on this subject before (here and here), but let me see if I can't formulate a more succinct statement.

The short answer would be snobbery. A slightly longer answer is that art is that which rich people collect and educated (and overeducated) people study. An even longer answer might be that art history is extremely conservative and prone to a herd mentality.

Art history before World War I exemplified an Old Master ethos and a preference for allegorical subjects (nude nymphs and the like); at mid-century formalist modernism prevailed; these days it is a kind of theatrical political gesturing descended from Zurich Dada. It is not a question of left or right, so much as whatever the herd happens to be grazing on at the moment (i.e., wherever the funding can be located). Academia is nothing if not overwhelmingly conformist.

Michele H. Bogart is the author of one of the few scholarly works on the subject, entitled Artists, Advertising, and the Borders of Art (University of Chicago Press, 1995), a highly readable account of how institutions like the Metropolitan Museum of Art declined to collect illustration art when it had the chance. A few years ago she lamented to me that more scholars had not ventured into this territory.



Increasing work is being done on popular material of the past, but this is problematic because scholarship is only useful if it enlightens on meanings that have been lost over time. Baxandall is necessary because he reminds us of the lost context of Early Medieval art, but we really don't need scholars to interpret Rockwell or Maxfield Parrish for us, just yet. Although, as print itself disappears, along with the modernist prejudice against commercial art as capitalist commodity, this will change. For today's college students, it is increasingly necessary to explain what print is, and that there were creative minds who created visuals for that lost media, and that some of it is very worthwhile. (Academically, such work is appearing on the radar in something called "Visual Culture Studies," a kind of purgatory for tainted objects that have yet to pass the high-brow cultural snob test.)

The argument that triptychs and other premodern genres of art had not been created for gallery display, but nonetheless had long incorporated into museological-academic art history, still does not sway art historians who continue to discount art made for reproduction on the grounds that, well, it was not made to hang on a gallery wall. Even obvious connections to illustration, such as the early careers of Winslow Homer, Edward Hopper, Andy Warhol, and other American artists, are overlooked or given incredibly short shrift. Marxist-inflected critical theory mandates that art intended for mass consumption is not art, while art sold to capitalist art collectors and capital-underwritten institutions somehow achieves ideological purity. In other words, ideological predisposition (snobbery) is still the primary determinant of what constitutes art.



Art that still speaks to us on  a gut level does not need a wall text or a journal article. And, as Raymond Williams and Jonathan Miller remind us (in The Long Revolution and Subsequent Performances, respectively), all historical art of the past once spoke to a contemporary audience in an immediately comprehensible way. Paradoxically, and perversely, contemporary art does not speak to us very clearly at all, which is why current scholarship in art history has shifted so heavily in that direction. Such work cannot stand on its own (Tom Wolfe's point in the now dated and somewhat ham-handed The Painted Word). Art has to give writers employment, or, a picture has to be worth a thousand words (or a thesis or dissertation or paper or book chapter), or it's not really art, is it?

Illustration, no matter how skillful or talented or imaginative or creative, is merely illustration unless it can function as a conversation piece for critical theorist to expound a political discourse. We used to ask, "But is it art?" Now we have to ask, "But can it be used in a scholarly argument that advances a professional academic or institutional-museological career?" Once illustration crosses that threshold, it may be permitted to pass through the Pearly Gates into the discipline of art history.

Sunday, March 1, 2015

The Wiz Composite

I saw The Wiz closing night at Carnegie-Mellon University School of Drama last night. It was astounding, of course (and I even met Alexis Floyd's mom from Cleveland!). But I have to say I am partial to the rehearsal process, to which director Tomé Cousin has invited me now to three of his Pittsburgh productions (M33, The Producers, and The Wiz) to sketch whatever unfolds. There's just something mesmerizing about seeing performers in T-shirts and leotards (essentially, ordinary college kids off the street, as it were) pretending in a barren rehearsal space (before the costumes, lighting, and sound of the theater stage), and bringing a narrative magically to life. (Granted, they are exceptionally talented kids!). I liken the rehearsal process to a vital, rough sketch before the final inked version in comics. Anyway, here is the final composite I made of the sketching process I was so privileged to observe!


[For a peek at the raw sketches, scroll down or click here and here.]

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Saturday, January 17, 2015

The Wiz at CMU: Ease On Down the Road!

Update: Week Two: Saturday, January 24, 2015

More colored pencil sketches of the cast in rehearsal for The Wiz at Carnegie-Mellon University School of Drama. A daylong rehearsal was followed by two performances of Dance Light, in which several cast members also participated. How do they do it?

Johari Mackey, Amanda Jerry, Erika Olson, Harron Atkins, Erron Crawford, Philippe Arroyo, Jean Floradin, Alexis Floyd.

Reading the scene where they meet The Wiz: Alexis Floyd, Tomé Cousin, Terrence Mosley, Jean Floradin as the Lion, Erron Crawford, Harron Atkins.

Annie Yokom as Dorothy, Harron Atkins as the Tin Man, Erron Crawford in the Wiz cload, Alexis Floyd as Dorothy.

Kelsey Tarantino as a denizen of the Emerald City, Ethan Crystal, Harron Atkins, Alexis Floyd.

Abby Botnik in the Emerald City; Josh Grosso and Amanda Jerry; Kelsey Tarantino.

Johari Mackey as Mama; Adam Stern-Rand.

Philippe Arroyo and Alexis Floyd during notes; munchkin Johari Mackey riding a tricycle.
White and yellow are getting pretty boring as the only highlighting colors in my set, so I bought a slew of light colored pencils (light pinks, tans, greens, blues, greys) to try out in two weeks on the tan paper--I can't wait!

Week One: Saturday, January 17, 2015

Multi-talented Tomé Cousin has invited me to sit in on and sketch the rehearsals for his latest production, this time The Wiz at Carnegie-Mellon University (following M33 and The Producers at neighboring Point Park University in 2012), and the talent becomes more stratospheric with each new show. Most of the cast members are seniors in the School of Drama (last names will be made available as they are released to the media!). Here are my color-pencils sketches on tan paper from Saturday, January 17, 2015.

Warm up sketch of ensemble.

Alexis Floyd as Dorothy and Philippe Arroyo as The Scarecrow meeting for the first time in Act I.

Gestures of Philippe Arroyo as the very limber Scarecrow.

The Crows (Ethan Crystal, Kelsey Tarantino, and Erika Olson) as Alexis Floyd takes a breather.

More Philippe Arroyo.

Stereo Dorothies: Annie Yokom and Alexis Floyd.

Philippe Arroyo with Kelsey Tarantino and Dorothy's dress.

Annie as Dorothy dances with Philippe as The Scarecrow; Crows Ethan Crystal and Erika Olson flapping their wings.

Philippe Arroyo and a dollish Ragedy Annie Yokom as Dorothy.

Alexis Floyd and dance partner Avery Smith.

Annie Yokom and Alexis Floyd without their Dorothy dresses, as Tomé Cousin observes.

Fairly nice likenesses of Annie Yokom and Alexis Floyd; Alexis dances with Addaperl (Joell Weil).

See also sketches of Shakespeare in the Park 2013: "Romeo Banish-ed" and "The Colors of Shakespeare"