Craft in Comics 2.0 (finale)
by Frank Santoro
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Anyways, back to craft. Ahem. That last post was sort of bittersweet. On one hand, I’m kinda bummed that my panel with Jaime Hernandez and Jim Rugg basically gets boiled down to this routine about taste. I was trying to riff on photo-referencing, not so much on Ross or even the comics culture that spawned him. Take a look at the comments section for that last post, wade through them and see for yourself how few of the comments refer to photography and drawing and the exchange between the forms. On the other hand, I’m happy that I did touch a nerve. Something resonated. I’m interested in fostering serious discussion about the over-use of photography in cartooning. Photography. Cartooning. Two different disciplines.
During the panel at Heroes Con, I spoke about a particular teacher I had who was adamant about not using photographs as reference for drawing. Ever. If there was something that needed to be researched she would direct me to a vast illustrated encyclopedia. And if an illustration of the thing didn’t exist, then I could go look in the regular encyclopedia. And then, we still could really only study the photo, we could make a drawing from it and then the photo had to be put away. We were to use the drawing we had made from the photo as the primary reference, that’s it.
The idea was to make us carefully select the information we wanted to transmit with lines. She would talk about how when one draws from direct observation, one is choosing what to leave in, what to leave out and even reconstructing elements so that the drawing will “read” better. When one draws from a photograph, the space is flattened, the camera has already selected the lines, shapes, and forms for you. When you are outside drawing a tree, YOU are choosing what is in focus, what is not—there is an exchange between subject and viewer. That is the art. To be present in that moment. When you are making the lines, THAT is the moment of seeing, of looking. “Don’t look at the paper,” she would yell. “Look at what you are drawing!” For me, this is what is valuable in the experience of drawing, this focus, this intention. It’s a very different process to draw a tree while sitting underneath it as opposed to drawing the same view from a photograph. The huge tree that moves and breathes is now lifeless and only about four by six inches wide and flat.
On the panel, we all talked a little bit about our schooling and how those experiences formed us, and how certain ideas we learned then are still part of our practice today. And for me, one of the limits I put on myself is not using photo references when composing my comics. Does that make me a better artist somehow? Maybe not, but it does lead me to make certain choices that yield unexpected and interesting results. For example, I’ll draw all the landscapes for my comics from life, from just walking around, or from just out of my head. I like to think that it adds a degree of naturalism to my comics, but it does prove difficult when I need to set a story in an exotic locale. Yet, since I feel comfortable drawing everyday backgrounds and such it’s not so hard to fake it out of my head. The conversational style of my landscapes that simply evolved out of the repetition of drawing from life serves me well in moments where I’m uncertain of how things should look. I can insert a believable setting for the characters and make it work, make the scene richer, fuller. And I like to think that those landscapes out of my head are more successful because they are not from photographs, and also because those landscapes contain my intent, my focus. Photos, even ones I take myself for reference, create distance between viewer and subject. That’s not the scene I just experienced, just walked through… How often have we all felt that the picture just doesn’t really capture the moment? That’s precisely why I strain to draw out those moments in my comics, why I refuse to use photographs. They only upset the balance. And it feels false, honestly. Like cheating.
Anyways. There’s room for all styles, approaches. But for me, I’m interested in DRAWING. I’m not interested in becoming a sort of movie director who utilizes actors, snapshots, Google image search, Photoshop, and every other available tool to create a hyper-realistic world. It’s a comic book fer christ’s sake. It’s pen and paper. It’s drawing.
Yet, I must admit that I do enjoy comics that contain plenty of photo-referencing. It can be done well. And of course all those drawings from photos are DRAWINGS too. I’m not trying to suggest that by using photos, drawing from photos is not drawing. It’s just different. And I can enjoy it—to a point.
There still will always be a transition or two in a heavily photo-referenced comic that seems really stilted and wooden. I think what happens is that the comics continuity is hindered by another discipline’s limitations. The still photo versus the moment-in-time in a motion picture, in a movie. Would folks who use snapshots of actors for their comics prefer to just film it and then capture a less “pose-y” position? Does that make sense? I mean, why not just film it and then at least you’re getting the FLOW of it. Then you could pause the really great gesture or something. But then, why not be a filmmaker? See what I mean? It’s a slippery slope. At least that’s how my brain works. I have to set limitations.
“I set limits for myself,” Jaime told the audience. “Like I only ever have four lines of dialogue at a time. If you have more, it’s too much. I wouldn’t read it. It’s too many words. It’s gotta be natural.”
PREVIOUSLY: Part one, Part 1.5, and Part 1.75
Labels: Frank Santoro, Heroes Con, Jaime Hernandez, Jim Rugg, photo-referencing
Frank, have you seen Sim’s Glamourpuss? The issue of photoreferencing and tranformation through drawing (through the photorealists like Alex Raymond) is a big part of the book (the part that isn’t lame fashion magazine parody). I’d love to hear your take on it. The Raymond stuff has a lot of life to it that is about the re-creation, the “what stays in/what gets taken out”, but Sim’s attempts at similar work is much less… successful (like his other recent book Judenhaas which is sooooo sterile).
I think the use of photos in comics is inhibiting because if you can’t find a reference for the pose/scene you want you either end up faking it which becomes jarring (it doesn’t match the style you use when drawing from a reference photo) or you change the angle to fit the reference you can find which damages the page design/panel flow. Thus you are compromising the flow and the reader’s immersion in the world you’re trying to create (both of which I think is key to what makes good comics) for the sake of finding reference.
I also think it becomes a crutch and eventually makes you a bad artist (in that it keeps you from becoming as good as you should). I don’t remember Paul Gulacy’s name coming up but I think he’s the perfect example of a guy who seems to rely so much on finding reference photos that he doesn’t really seem to grow as a draftsman because instead of learning how to draw something he simply tries to find the right photograph to copy. I would put Mr. PornFace in that same category. You’d think at some point these guys obviously have the chops and could do without the reference because they’d actually learn how to draw the stuff they start off using references for early in their careers.
I do think some of the photo referencing in super hero comics is almost unavoidable- when you have a demand for a “realistic” style and you have several people with similar builds and hair style/color, how else do you differentiate between them? A cartoonist could exaggerate certain features to create a distinction (manga artists pull this off well- they also create very distinctive character designs so it’s not really an issue anyway) but when trying to conform to fan demands it becomes hard not to “cast” a celebrity and rely on photos to maintain the look of the character and avoid confusion… but maybe that’s getting too far off topic again?
I love the topic of personal “rules”. The designer in me says “pull out all the stops, be as pragmatic as possible.” But the drawer in me say “don’t cheat.”
It’s a form of purism. You know that by not cheating (by what ever rules you’ve chosen) your drawing will in the end be stronger. It’s such a natural instinct to me as an artist, but I’ve noticed that there is a lot of anti-purist sentiment out there, whether it be in comics, or art, or music.
I’m interested in other people’s rules, and how as artists we let our audience in our our values and rules so they can understand our terms and how “not cheating” makes the work stronger.
I have to say, the more I read this blog the more I find that Frank Santoro is a man after my own heart.
Frank,
That was a really incisive post, getting at the heart of the nature of the difference. I thought your observation about photoreferencing actually handicapping an artist was especially illuminating…the idea that photos limit artists because they’re already shown a flattened image that they have much less leeway in depicting was fascinating.
What’s interesting about that for me is that reader expectation plays a part in this. These days, readers already have a certain expectation that images will be flattened for them, because they see photos, watch TV, see things on the computer, etc. That’s why I think heavily photo-referenced art is more jarring to artists than laymen.
I do love the irony that working from life give the artist more room to interpret an object than a photo…but as you say, working from a photo is an interpretation of someone else’s interpretation. Phenemonologically speaking, a photo has no relation to an object’s actual existence and couldn’t be used to explain or describe it.
One last thing: Lewis Trondheim notes in his brilliant LITTLE NOTHINGS that going outdoors and simply drawing nature rejuvenates him when he starts to get tired of drawing. The relationship between artist and object is a powerful and mysterious one.
Rob Clough
sequart.com
Nicely said Frank. There is something almost charged that occurs in the exchange between viewer and subject when drawing from life, that I just can’t see happening when trying to interpret a photo. I’m reminded of a quote by Robert Henri, “The wise draftsman brings forward what he can use most effectively to present his case. His case is his special interest-his special vision. He does not repeat nature.” But I don’t know how fond Henri was of cartooning…
I find myself using photographs mostly when I have no idea what a very specific subject looks like, or I am utterly at a loss to make it all up. There is that individual quality of interpretation when a cartoonist creates his or her own form or shape based on a idea as opposed recapturing one that exists in the flattened state of a photograph. There is that element that is almost like handwriting–a personal quality.
you got a soda on your roof asshole
Joe Willy-
I think that is a great point about being trapped by the angle of the reference at the expense of the flow of the panels.
I’ve been enjoying reading your comments on photoreferencing and “realism” as well as the ensuing discussion. A couple of points that I don’t think have been made:
1) I find it ironic that photoreferencing – by which I mean the kind of quasi-fumetti practiced by the likes of Alex Ross, Greg Land, and Tony Harris, not the mere use of photos as references for, say, objects or places – has become popular in superhero comics (though it’s hardly the only style out there). One lesson I recall from Stan Lee & John Buscema’s How to Draw Comics the Marvel Way was that one should show superhero characters in dramatic, extreme poses – the full follow-through of a powerful punch, say. (Obviously, this doesn’t apply to every scene.) But such poses simply don’t occur when you pose a model: it’s too hard for anyone to hold such a position for any time, and in many cases they’re simply not realistic depictions of human action. So when I see flat, stagey action in a Marvel comic, I can’t help but think, “Didn’t you read the book?” (Notably, the growth of this style of art seems associated with the vastly decreased use of such conventions as “action lines.”)
2) Even if one used frames from a movie instead of still photos, I doubt you’d capture what you wanted. The reason, I think, is that we get a lot of our information about emotion and expression from motion (hey, it’s right there in the word “emotion”). I’ve often noticed that the most expressive people I know are the ones with the most animated features – whereas anyone who wears a “frozen” expression tends to look fake or insincere, or at the very least like they’re hiding something. (People who are depressed can often have “mask-like” expressions in, I would suggest, an attempt to conceal their deeper turmoil.) I suppose Frank is saying much the same thing in his “capture the flow” comment.
The point of both remarks is of course that cartooning attempts to show the feeling of life (even if it’s fantasy life) in two dimensions that are static in time, and the trick to that is to find devices to represent the 3-D, animated elements of life. And those devices involve going beyond what is captured in a still photograph.
thanks everyone for reading, responding –I’d like to respond to all 82 or so of the comments but I’m too impatient about this subject to respond to each tangent. I’m reading them all though and it’s fun for me to see how people respond or what part of it they take issue with, agree with… the panel could’ve been like this
if we could only get the crowd for it –in person.
I was thinking these days the following.
1-Bob Dylan 1960-1963 is a simple aproach: just a voice, a guitar and another voice (the harmonica)
2- Bob Dylan (1965 onwards) is not more the simple aproach.
I would not have yelled him “Judas” when he turnes electric, since he was a human being honest to himself.
But…the first Dylan has more soul and intimacy for me. He is more naked, exposed, just by the simplicity of the setting: a guitar and a voice. Not because of the man: the setting.
And…I can relate that in comics to, for example, John Porcellino. I tried to think who was that sincere and got that kind of intimacy and i could draw a paralell to Porcellino.
I am not quite sure about this, but it has been going round my mind and I asociated it a lot to your post.
Perhaps there is magic in being as naked as one can be. Perhaps Porcellino reaches so far in the soul because of his nakedness.
(sory my awfull english)
Saludos! Great post as always
Pablo
PD: The “nakedness” in Porcellino would be his simple aproach to drawing which leaves so much air. Can that be compared to the intimacy of an acoustic guitar-man setting?
PD2: The first happened to me with Devendra Banhart.
No one in the photo-reference discussion brought up Katherine Bernhardt. If the Alex Ross route is shabby when brought into or compared to comics, could Bernhardt’s method be translated better through the medium? I guess we would have to look at how she draws, and note what cartoonists it connects with. I can imagine the combination of bluntness and sheer energy in her work translating well to comics, not to mention her color sense.
i’ve tried to get her to do comics since 2002. Someday.
Um, you sound like a boring conservative Drawing 101 teacher?
“Craft”?
Have you looked into community college work at all? B/c that’s where you’re going to be in about 7 to 8 years if you’re not already there.
Wow! You are so brave, Mr. A., and so right. Craft is stoopid and boring!