The lines are the narrative

1) Laurie J. Proud

The houses seem vacant of life, of people, of the family. There is an emptiness that gestures towards perhaps the loneliness emergent from father’s depression, or the way the family is displaced symbolically – even from home – as a result. The car, parked, unmoving outside seems relevant. In dream theory cars represent the sense of control one has over one’s life. The static nature of the car here works as a visual representation of the stuckness of the family.

The use of somber and muted colors, as well as the water-color form of the artwork match and emphasize emotional tenor of the story. The way in which the shed is depicted in the shadow while emphasizing the presence of is sunlight in the way it reflects on the neighboring house again speaks volumes to this emotion. The state of disrepair in which the shed is depicted maps onto the depression – the roof busted, like the busted mind/consciousness. It appears steeped in a wetland of darkness.

In contrast to the shed the frames that include Aubrey are initially lighter in their color – energetic. Aubrey, while a source of fear, is on his bike, an agent of movement, in juxtaposition to the family. The fixation on Aubrey is symbolic of, and heightens the disappearance/absence of the father. In many senses the narrator doesn’t need to tell the story of the father because the obsession with Aubrey maps onto the way in which a child’s mind forms narrative sometimes separate from the immediate events that are impossible to internalize, to generate a space for the emotion to be offloaded. We understand without needing the details. And so Aubrey’s smile, which perhaps seems symbolic of some kind of stupidity, as it statically remains, again in juxtaposition to the father’s depression. The focus on Aubrey’s grotesque smiling mouth in the later frames, generates an increasing sense of urgency within the work, and speeds up the pace of the very short story.

It is significant that we don’t see anyone until Aubrey. This demonstrates the centrality of his figure in the consciousness of the narrator. The pervasive threat and monstrosity that Aubrey seems to generate, the dream, the violence, stand in for the enormity of impact of the father’s depression – it’s ubiquity in the life of the narrator. Aubrey like the father is depicted as solitary – an unknown – a haunting ghost. Further the only family we see is Aubrey’s family – which act as stand in for the family of the narrator’s “family of circus freaks.” We can understand it as projection.

The doorway at the derelict works is dark – and in the frame, almost see a shape – hearkens back to the broken down shed that the father is stuck inside of.

The last two frames are significant in the way that the body of the father is mapped onto Aubrey – particularly via shape of head and hair.

The traditional structure – equal sized frames – mete the story out in a measured way – and assist the reader in seeing how the perspective of the child is changing as particular images are emphasized. The images do so much for the sparse text – well matched.

I found myself wondering who is “we.”

2) Scott Dessert – Cat Sitter

Oubapo – multiple frames of different sizes that are not always distinct from each other combined with the collage format generate a sense of chaos.

The man and wall and phone and food are in black and white. Meanwhile the furniture and wine are in color – suggesting where the life in the work is – in the inanimate objects – juxtaposition says a great deal about the emotion of the character. There is a feeling of dreary isolation and stagnancy in the room. The socks are in color as if to suggest desire for movement. The prominence of the ringing speaks to the perception of the character – the noise being either exacerbated due to the wine or an irregular experience in the home. The second frame feels as though shift from a third person perspective into the perspective of the protagonist.

Later in the work the wine and socks seem to be foreshadow for blood – and maybe in terms of theme the risk of reaching out for connection.

The textured vibrancy of the color in the external world operate in stark contrast to the world of the room – even the train underground, has a kind of electricity to it that the first three panels lack… though in this underground the protagonist is muted against the background, again suggestive of emotional state? All of the color of the world seems to represent perhaps the rarity of this kind of movement for the protagonist.

The cat is white in contrast to the darkness of the man’s clothing, and the way he seems to be cloaked in shadow, so in this sense, the cat is set up visually as hopeful connection – this is the moment his isolation will be broken. What disappointment. The claws, the blood. Immediately following this moment of feline ferocity, the panel of the bathroom seems to match the man’s black and white. The tyranny of the cat. It is dressed as business man as if to represent power over – menacing, but the protagonist is determined to.

I appreciate the way in which this writer/artist allowed images to hold the narrative

3) Vivien McDermid – Paint

The almost childlike style of the imagery maps the centrality of the child to the consciousness of the protagonist.

The internal monologue felt unnecessary in moments. The protagonist’s face for example in panel 3 didn’t need the additional, “I feel awful” because the facial gesture is so expressive.

“I won’t mind a bit if everything gets ruined,” is gesture towards what’s to come – set-up for the character to undergo a transformation.

The nice things, “they are anchors,” is a telling transition into the story of the relationship with the romantic partner and father of Bertha. This set-up does something to signal us into how the protagonist is perhaps viewing that relationship. Before the romantic partnership begins almost all of the panels and events are all situated in the outdoors, meanwhile almost all of the panels in the present of the story, take place withindoors. A sense of claustrophobia, and constraint. We see how what is at the center of life has absolutely transformed.

I read this work as a story testifying in part to the isolation of motherhood – as the protagonist is trying to reestablish her identity, her artistry – separate from partnership or motherhood.

The absolute release at the end which is mirrored in both the use of color by the decision to engage in the act of “ruining” is powerfully an act of reclaiming. The last frame – a panoramic style view of the room – is the largest frame – symbolizing the openness and sensation of freedom that the protagonist is experiencing.

Stephen Collins – In Room 208

The opening four frames establish a sense of movement, while giving us a panoramic view of the world – the characters climb the hills, and against the environment they seem tiny. The hotel, shrouded in darkness with the whipping of the wind feels foreboding – almost like a horror. The world before they enter is wide and open. Incredible use of those first four frames to move us through time.

As soon as they approach and then enter the hotel on the first page the frames become tiny in comparison; enclosed, a foreshadowing towards the small room they will remain in. I find the way lines are used as a narrative element throughout the work incredible; at first a topographic representation of the land, then the sheets on the bed. The use of these lines cues us into the topography of bodies that the story is moving towards. Beautiful. Again Collins uses one intact image broken into two frames on page two to move us through time – from day into morning – and now the mapping of the hills onto the “linen landscape” is ever more visible. The first frame on the third page collapses time and demonstrates repetition. The drooping flowers seem almost gravitationally pulled by the laziness of the couple, reaching down towards the earth as if to quench the thirst of sleep. And then the perspective shift, as the tourists come to view them, the bodies become as big as the world, because they become the entirety of the world to the characters – all that there is, or should be. Wow.