What we see, and what we don't see

why do we care so much?

A friend of mine is curating an art exhibition. I was riding my bicycle this weekend and messaged her to see if she was around, but she was busy inside the museum getting things ready for the opening. The museum is located inside the park I was biking towards, so I just pedaled my way to the building and pressed my face in the big glass window of the ground floor, and looked at all the workers putting walls up, and hanging wires from the ceiling, and getting the place ready for all the art that will be exhibited there starting this Wednesday. From outside, I was able to see my friend inside, gesticulating to several workers where she wanted what, and how it was intended to be, and I waved. She saw me, and gestured me to go around to the entrance and meet her inside (she pointed me to the wrong entrance, but someone else who was carrying some heavy boxes and other construction stuff actually said it was easier if I went to the other side of the building).

I went inside and caught up with my friend for a little while. She was busy, her architect husband, also a friend of mine, was there as well (as he designed the space for her curated artists to be displayed at), equally busy. There was still a lot to do before the show opens in three days. A lot of work that is meant to be invisible, but still meant to be perceived, sensed, and to help the audience to appreciate the art inside that space.

I left the museum thinking about that same aspect in comics. There’s so much work that it’s not seen, and it’s meant to be invisible, but it’s an important part of the process in order for any comic book story to be made, to be published and to reach their audience.

What do we know about what we don’t see?

I had my little notebook with me last Friday as I did another round of free portfolio reviews for aspiring comic book artists. So much of what I talk about in portfolio reviews relates to this invisible part of making comics. It’s about the craft, and what we should be thinking about before we draw each page, and how we can “write visually”, and what pitfalls we should watch out for. In the examples above, I covered how to lead the eye of the reader to where you want in the page, and how you can use the placement of the balloons, or where your characters are inside each panel, or even the size and position of the panels in the page to achieve that. I also talked a little about the dangers of tangents, and how to use negative space to balance your art. All of that is in the mind of the artist but should be invisible to the reader who, completed enthralled by the story, only wants to know what happens next.

I believe this technical part of making comics is important to artists, but it can also be part of the job of a good editor who can help the artist in achieving the best version of the work. Said editor’s work, in all the several variations of influence in the artist’s story, should also be invisible to the reader, and any editor who wants to appear more than the work they helped create is distracting the reader from the story just as much (or some times more) as a badly designed gutter or as a balloon that was placed so closed to the border of the page that some of the letters got cut.

Still, being invisible is hard, and it’s one of the most difficult lessons of my profession, and whoever works in comics spends a lot of time in their own dungeons, alone, and they crave a chance to talk about what they love and what they have made and how cool it is. It doesn’t help that we live in this shallow all-at-the-same-time-all-the-time online culture, and it’s almost impossible to disappear in today’s world and stay relevant. We have become accustomed to the attention we have if we just stay online as much as we can and, with our phones on our hands whenever we go, nowadays we’re online ALL THE TIME.

•

Terry Moore’s Strangers in Paradise was hugely influential to me, and maybe you can see in both of our work a balance between the small, intimate moments of everyday’s life and the relationships between people we can relate to, and something out of the ordinary that happens that both excites the reader and enhances the power and importance of those small intimate moments.

I love Terry’s work, and I have followed everything he has done ever since coming in contact with his stories. Plus, after getting to know him in person over the years, knowing he’s a really nice guy makes me miss him even more when we don’t catch up on a more regular base.

Well, Terry spent the entire weekend interacting with his fans online, selling original sketches, making live videos on Instagram or YouTube talking about the process of his work, and his ideas, and what’s next. Since the pandemic started, he has been doing weekly videos and has been making the invisible part of his work become visible to his audience. He’s sharing and finding a way to stay close while we are all forced to stay apart. He announced that his next series, which will start coming out in August, will be called Parker Girls. Also, he talked a little about starting to plan for next year’s 30th anniversary of Strangers in Paradise. All that should be exciting.

Like him, many authors have increased their online presence and their online interaction with fans. Between having an idea and having the finished book ready, a lot of time goes by and, in most cases, and specially in our internet-fueled fast paced times, people forget about your work in this time because their attention will be drawn by something else that will be happening while you, the author, is hiding inside your art cave making your new project.

Here’s another sketch. The final drawing, which I just finished inking and am about to color, ended up quite different from this sketch. Better, I believe. If only I had seen the sketch, only I would have the two versions to compare, and the first isn’t a final version, it’s just part of the process, a piece of the invisible puzzle necessary to create a drawing. Do artists share these process pieces to get a confirmation that they did follow the right path towards the final image, or are they unsure and somehow imagine that someone somewhere will reach out in time and make him/her stop, rethink, correct whatever might be wrong with the sketch and save the artist from ultimate shame and failure?

Maybe the artist is just lonely.

At one point or another, aren’t we all?

Be safe. Be kind. Be curious.
Pa-ZOW!

Fábio Moon
Moon Base, São Paulo
April 4th, 2022