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The Drunken Odyssey

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The Drunken Odyssey

Tag Archives: cartooning

Gutter Space #19: The Art of Adaptation

18 Wednesday Dec 2013

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Art, Comic Books, Gutter Space

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Adaptations, cartooning, Franz Kafka, graphic novels, gutter space, leslie salas, Peter Kuper, Sequential art, The Metamorphosis

Gutter Space #19 by Leslie Salas

The Art of Adaptation:

Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis,

adapted by Peter Kuper

A topic which I was shocked to realize I hadn’t yet covered in Gutter Space is the art of adaptation of prose into works of sequential art. I’ve done a great deal of research on adaptations in general and their pedagogical benefits in various levels of schooling for improving visual literacy (or just plain literacy in general) and creating an excitement and love for reading—but what I’d like to focus on today is an artist’s reimagining of a classic novella. In this case, Peter Kuper’s take on Kafka’s The Metamorphosis.

The Metamorphosis

Part of my favorite aspects of reading Kafka’s Metamorphosis is the ambiguity involving Gregor’s condition. We know he is a bug—but what type, exactly? A dung beetle? A cockroach? What is it?

In Kuper’s adaptation, given it’s inherent visual element, he had to make a decision, and stick with it. Some of the magic of the mystery is lost, but in it’s place, we are granted a rich interpretation of Kafka’s haunting story.

Poor Gregor, stressed by work (and capitalism in general), wakes up late one day. He wakes up an discovers he has a problem.

Metamorphosis Page

He can’t roll out of bed. He can’t move very well. It’s hard to see. And suddenly he realizes—he’s turned into a bug.

But look! Rather than being stuck in Gregor’s head, we get much, much more. The period furniture, the wallpaper, the painting on the wall, Gregor’s suitcase of textiles on the dresser, the key in the door—it’s all there for us to see. Kuper’s art style is reminiscent of old woodcut etchings.

Although Gregor is clearly a very large bug, as established in the image above, Kuper nonetheless enjoys shifting the sizes of things based on perspective. When Gregor feels attacked, he becomes very small. His attacker, in the case of the example below, becomes magnified in size, all the more intimidating.

metamorphosis detail

The emanata by Gregor’s human-ish head—those little white lines—express Gregor’s surprise, and the emanata surrounding his body give the impression that he is shaking in fear. The negative space created by these lines is effective because of the rich darkness of the surroundings and the subjects of the panels—Gregor himself, and the boots coming to stomp him.

metamorphosis detail 2

Poor Gregor. Locked in his room.

We empathize with Gregor because he still embodies a recognizable form. Even though he is a bug, his posture and his facial expressions showcase what we understand as being sad or melancholy. Given the experience he’s been through, we sympathize. Have we all not been rejected at one point or another?

But there’s more to this. Look!—That’s Prague in the windowsill. Although it’s never expressly stated that The Metamorphosis takes place in Prague, there are enough references to the fog and the vague shapes of old buildings that many scholars have assumed the setting is in Kafka’s hometown. Looks like Kuper has done his homework, and made an artistic choice to yet again solidify what the original author simply alluded to.

Another interesting decision Kuper has made with his adaptation is his willingness to play with the presentation of text. In the sample below, the caption does not read in a standard prose format, but instead the sentences mosey around the borders of the panels, following Gregor about as he learns to utilize his new body.

metamorphosis page 2

Kuper’s interpretation of Kafka is an interesting one, and adds to the richness of our understanding of the original text. Check it out sometime, and let me know what you think.

___________

Leslie Salas (Photo by Ashley Inguanta)

Leslie Salas (episode 75) writes fiction, nonfiction, screenplays, and comics. She earned her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Central Florida and attended the University of Denver Publishing Institute. In addition to being an Associate Course Director at Full Sail University, Leslie also serves as an assistant editor for The Florida Review, a graphic nonfiction editorial assistant for Sweet: A Literary Confection, and a regular contributing artist for SmokeLong Quarterly.

Gutter Space # 18: Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, by Zach Weiner

04 Wednesday Dec 2013

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Gutter Space

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Tags

cartooning, gutter space, Humor, leslie salas, openmindedness, Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, Sequential art, serious, SMBC, teaching, unexpected, webcomic, Zach Weiner

Gutter Space # 18 by Leslie Salas

Utilizing Humor to Teach: Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, by Zach Weiner

I’m a big fan of comics that like to teach random facts in unconventional and humorous ways. Comics like xkcd fit this bill, but so does Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, a daily webcomic by Zach Weiner.

While all of the characters in this comics are drawn in a particular style, there are no recurring characters and there is no serialized plot. Each comic stands alone, and the humor ranges from silly to dark to seriously introspective social commentary. In addition to the occasional literary joke, there are also jokes about discourse analysis, physics, economics, statistics, life in academia, the possibilities of extraterrestrial life and life after death, to name more than a few topics.

SMBC has an openmindedness that I enjoy. The site regularly features LGBTQ couples, biracial couples, and polyamourous relationships. The joke of the comic almost never relies of the characteristics of the couple. It is simply a fact that—to be honest—should be overlooked and unnoticed by readers.

I like to think of SMBC as a random exercise in amusement and learning. You stumble across unexpected nuggets of wisdom along the way, but overall the experience is interesting and fun. This has gained SMBC a lot of attention over the years, and qualified it at an award-winning webcomic. Take the time to check it out, and let me know what you think.

___________

Leslie Salas (Photo by Ashley Inguanta)

Leslie Salas writes fiction, nonfiction, screenplays, and comics. She earned her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Central Florida and attended the University of Denver Publishing Institute. In addition to being an Associate Course Director at Full Sail University, Leslie also serves as an assistant editor for The Florida Review, a graphic nonfiction editorial assistant for Sweet: A Literary Confection, and a regular contributing artist for SmokeLong Quarterly.

 

Gutter Space #17: Metacomic Case Study (Cyanide & Happiness)

27 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Gutter Space

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Tags

cartooning, gutter space, insignificance, leslie salas, meta, models, pixels, Rob DenBleyker, scale, Sequential art, webcomic

Gutter Space #17 by Leslie Salas

Metacomic Case Study: Cyanide & Happiness, by Rob DenBleyker

It’s been much too long since I’ve written a review about a webcomic, so just in time for Thanksgiving let’s put our lives into perspective with Cyanide & Happiness’ “Depressing Comic Week” comic 3373. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with Cyanide & Happiness, these comics, by Rob DenBleker, have a reputation for their often surprisingly dark humor. DenBleker pushes boundaries for acceptability, often cartooning what many people may consider inappropriate or outrageous. Consider it part of his charm.

Similarly to xkcd (which I’ve talked about here and here), the art style employed in Cyanide & Happiness is that of slightly-detailed stick figures, and the comics often transcend the space of their panels and website, utilizing the tools of the Internet to enhance their storytelling.

In comic 3373 (I refer to it’s number because there are several “Depressing Comic Week” comics—in fact, there’s a whole book of them), an optimistic protagonist is interrupted from his excited, “I’m gonna go do something great with my life!” by the creator of the comic, who responds with, “Seems unlikely.”

The Creator then goes on to utilize panels of 500 x 500 pixels, zooming in to the center pixel of each to illustrate the scale of the Universe, the solar system, and the insignificance of a single human being, especially with respect to the billions who have already died. He showcases this on an impressive visual scale, even scaling one drawn person to represent 1,000,000, because, as he says, “[H]onestly this comic is getting kind of tall. Let’s not overdo it.”

This raises the audience’s awareness of the comic—that it is indeed pixels projected onto a scrolling screen in a web browser. And so we, the audience, are made more aware of our own existence. As we scroll, our understanding of our insignificance only deepens.

The ending—well, I’ll save that, for you to read yourself. But I’m left with an unsettling awareness of DenBleyker’s deliberate use of metafiction to drive home a point.

It’s this use of the Internet, the scrolling function, pixels, and the author’s intrusion on the comic that I find fascinating and wonderful. DenBleyker has turned a comic into a depressing infographic that is both thought-provoking and humorous. And he makes it look tongue-in-cheek and effortless. Impressive work.

___________

Leslie Salas (Photo by Ashley Inguanta)

Leslie Salas writes fiction, nonfiction, screenplays, and comics. She earned her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Central Florida and attended the University of Denver Publishing Institute. In addition to being an Associate Course Director at Full Sail University, Leslie also serves as an assistant editor for The Florida Review, a graphic nonfiction editorial assistant for Sweet: A Literary Confection, and a regular contributing artist for SmokeLong Quarterly.

 

Gutter Space #16: Cartooning through Delicate Subject Matters (Marbles, by Ellen Forney)

20 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Comic Books, Gutter Space

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Tags

bipolar, cartooning, Ellen Forney, Graphic Novel, gutter space, leslie salas, Marbles, Memoir, mental illness, Sequential art

Gutter Space #16 by Leslie Salas

Cartooning through Delicate Subject Matters: Marbles, by Ellen Forney

Part of what makes cartooning such a powerful medium of expression is the ability to tweak one’s words and pictures to express tonality and nuance in a way that words and pictures alone cannot. This is most clearly illustrated when writers+artists(=cartoonists) cover delicate subject matters—such as Ellen Forney’s discussion of her bipolar disorder diagnosis in her memoir, Marbles.

Forney does not beat around the bush about her diagnosis. After giving her audience a taste of her constant mania, we get the slap-in-the-face news and it’s weighty implications. Once we focus on the image in the magic eye stereogram of “let’s take a look at the symptoms”—she emboldens the image:

How does she deal with this news? What does it mean? What are it’s implications?

At first she handles it rather well—and attributes it to joining “Club Van Gogh.”

And soon she runs away with the idea.

Forney draws herself in a typical manic fashion—surrounded by stars and bright emanata, she is excited and vibrant and full of life, jostling around, knocking things over, starry-eyes and happy.

But note the sword precariously perched above her. It’s not literally there. Damocles’ sword is just a metaphor, as are the stars and the swipes and the dotted lines and the squiggles. But all of those extra marks add meaning—they enrich the reading experience and clue the audience in on the internal happenings in Forney’s brain.

This continues on when Forney “revvs”  from neutral to high gear and gets swept away into becoming manic.

She draws herself as literally being swept away, when in reality the distraction and excitement is all figurative. The illustration is compelling and insightful  for those who have never experienced the highs of losing control while being manic.

The lack of control is dizzying. Even Forney’s eyes and face are starry and unfocused. She is a blurry whiz of energy, and we see that by how she’s presented herself on the page.

Conversely, we get the stark stillness of her plummet to depression.

She is an amorphous shape, wrapped in a blanket, laying on a couch.

The simple act of getting out of bed is a tremendous victory.

And still, panel by panel, with the tiny changes between them, it’s clear that there is a heavy weight of depression. It’s oppression, and her immobility. The panels lack detail and shading. There is no richness or depth during depression, and we get that through her illustrations.

Forney also covers some of the unforeseen side-effects of bipolar disorder, such as the awkwardness of telling family members.

And the frustrations of finding a treatment plan that works for her.

She uses humor as a buffer for the sensitivity and intense personal nature of her diagnosis. But what is more telling are the additions to her illustrations. She includes sound cues and a director’s “cut” for her disappointment. She turns herself into a pill bottle, surrounded by mountains of pills and an excessively long list of failed treatment plans.

And there is her sheer frustration.

The small illustrations in the background are more telling than anything else I’ve discussed. She uses each of these images as themes throughout her memoir—moods like rainstorms, a merry-go-round as a tool for discussing the various types of bipolar disorder, the constant emotional rollercoaster—we’ve seen these symbols before, so when we get to this panel on this page, we sympathize with her even if we haven’t experienced any of these ourselves (let alone all of it at once).

Marbles is a powerful account of a woman learning to live with a diagnosis and telling her story through the best tools she has available: her voice and her art. By putting both of those tools together, she expresses more than either could alone, resulting in effective storytelling about a sensitive and personal subject matter.

___________

Leslie Salas (Photo by Ashley Inguanta)

Leslie Salas writes fiction, nonfiction, screenplays, and comics. She earned her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Central Florida and attended the University of Denver Publishing Institute. In addition to being an Associate Course Director at Full Sail University, Leslie also serves as an assistant editor for The Florida Review, a graphic nonfiction editorial assistant for Sweet: A Literary Confection, and a regular contributing artist for SmokeLong Quarterly.

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