Anybody who writes knows you don’t simply write what you believe. You write to find out what you believe, or what you can afford to believe.
The new creator-owned series I’ve been mentioning… Yeah.
Please start getting excited (and share the teaser with your friends)!
More details and art coming soon…
I’m just going to set these dollars here on my desk, ready to pick up Jim Zub’s new title as soon as it streets.
By Crom! is my joke-a-panel autobiographical comic featuring life advice and spiritual guidance from Conan the Barbarian. It ran from January 2012 to May 2014, and is collected in two books, The Collected By Crom! and Full Colour Cromulence. You can read the archives on WealdComics.com, and grab the books in print and in PDF.
Rachel Kahn’s By Crom! series isn’t only funny, though it is funny, it is also charming and comforting and challenging, panel by panel, in great ways. Get thee this comic.
Here, as is often the case in jazz, an apparent paradox is at work: to sound like themselves musicians begin by trying to sound like someone else.
Here’s a thing, though: I both agree and want to add onto this. I think interviewers, reviewers, critics — the “people” in question — should pay more respect to the fact that the film is the talking. That’s a big deal.
At the same time, a lot of film exists in this larger context of media and marketing and audience relations and the web presence and the trailers and all that and I think compelling, provocative things can be done — maybe have been done — in that space. The movie must talk but so can the whole apparatus around the film, including the junkets and the behind-the-scenes Blu-ray add-ons and all that stuff.
A film is art because film is an art form. Can the whole larger context of all the antics and shenanigans surrounding the film be a performance? Can that be art, too?
Film director Wes Anderson mentioned the Thorne miniature rooms at the Art Institute of Chicago during an interview with Terry Gross on Fresh Air.
When I was young, my grandmother took me to the Art Institute now and again. We’d take the train in from the suburbs and walk the rest of the way. I loved those trips, though I didn’t just want to visit the Art Institute, I wanted to visit the city — eat in restaurants, ride the L, see the lake, go inside any building I could and, if possible, go upstairs and find windows from which to see different angles on town. I still like doing that. (This is part of why Iwan Ries is my favorite tobacco shop in the city.)
At the Art Institute, I wanted to see the ancient works, but more than that, I wanted to visit the hall of arms and armor (which has been sadly and greatly downsized in recent years), because I have always been that kind of nerd, and maybe even more than that — just a bit more than that — I wanted to visit the Thorne miniature rooms. Each one was a portal to some other place, a window on beautiful design and lovely toil, a manifestation of imagination at scale.
I’ve been sort of afraid to go see them again very often, for fear that they won’t hold up.
When I heard Wes Anderson the radio, as soon as he mentioned the Art Institute I said, “The Thorne rooms! Wes Anderson would love those!” When he mentioned them and described them, I knew they’d be all right. That they still had their magic. That they were aging, unlike myself, just fine.
"Only art can make the future love you, and that is what art is about: attraction at a distance, seduction from the past, inveiglement from beyond the grave. Art is a plea to love me when I’m gone. And yet, I thought to myself, who could love what I do? Who could possibly love me for this?" -Supervert
(via Clayton Cubitt on Instagram: http://ift.tt/1mECuTE)
By all means break the rules, and break them beautifully, deliberately and well. That is one of the ends for which they exist.