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Broken Saints

Zabel:

I wanted to talk a bit about Broken Saints. Wednesday White reviewed the DVD version for us, but there are stylistic aspects to the series that merit further discussion.

If webcomics are thought of as a new artform that exploits the possibilities of electronic presentation, then Broken Saints is about as far as you can take it in this direction; Broken Saints is right on the borderline between flash-presented webcomics and animated film.

It has a distinctly different feel from an animated film because it requires you to read all the dialog and narration, which are presented as captions and word balloons. Also, the extensive animation doesn't negate the webcomics feel of the series, because the pictures themselves are almost always static; the animation consists of zooming in and out, scanning from one side to the other, and fading in and out. This style of stasis/animation is widely used in Anime, of course.

For what it's worth, the creators of Broken Saints refer to the style as "cinematic literature." Regarding the use of text instead of spoken dialog, their FAQ asks, "How strange would some of the emotional and philosophical musings in the series actually sound when spoken?"

In addition, I think the text has a strange effect of intensifying the viewing process. The viewer must constantly focus on the screen to catch the next block of text, rather than sitting back, relaxing and letting the images wash over you. After a 15-minute episode you can feel rather drained!

The creators' intent was to evoke a strongly atmospheric experience that takes you out of the everyday world. One of the most remarkable aspect of their production is that the website itself is an immersive experience filled with sounds, strange shapes and animations. Even the "loading" indicator for the Flash files is crafted into an emotionally-resonant image of an antique clock.

Broken Saints is really the antithesis of the typical web experience-- it wants you to slow down and enter a meditative state. There are technical reasons why the Broken Saints episodes cannot be paused or fast-forwarded, but if the work had these convenient features, it would probably only subvert what they're trying to accomplish.

I don't think the technique is limited to this kind of slow-paced experience. After all, The Castle of Cagliostro used a lot of limited animation, and it's one of the most fast-paced, thrilling adventures ever filmed. With enough talent and ingenuity, it's entirely possible you could create a Miyazaki-like narrative with these tools.

Personally, the subject matter of Broken Saints is not for me; I don't have much patience with mystical hoo-doo, even in a fantasy context. Writer/director Brooke Burgess is very strong on atmosphere and the invention of strange, enigmatic events; but he seems weak on characterization and plot. Artist Andrew West has a vigorous, loose style that I sometimes like; but his grasp of human anatomy really needs firming up.

The technical direction by Ian Kirby is quite excellent, and really sets the production apart from most other online endeavors. I also really like the musical score by Tobias Tinker; it's hip, beautifully wrought, and perfectly in tune with what What Burgess is trying to do. Last issue Tim Godek described some exotic techniques cartoonists have been using to incorporate music in their work; but simply having a soundtrack and keeping all the images in sync with it seems like a more direct and effective solution.

One thing is evident, Burgess must be one hell of a producer/director to have gotten such high and consistent quality out of his collaborators. Especially when you consider that the series was a non-commercial labor of love.

"We don't make MONEY with Broken Saints. Period," says the FAQ. "We make something that can be seen. We make something that can be heard. We make something that can be EXPERIENCED. We make art. Are we daft? Maybe, but it's hard to convey how satisfying this whole process has been to people who are obsessed with the bottom-line."

This attitude seriously rocks, especially when contrasted with the obsession most webcomickers have with merchandising and revenue schemes.

Regardless of what one thinks of the final product, it's clear that BS, like Argon Zark, is a bold experiment that thrusts the comics form into new territories. And like Argon Zark, it's technically ambitious enough that few have attempted to follow in its path. Crossgen Comics tried to mimic the Broken Saints web design with their "Comics on the Web" site, but the comics themselves used a clumsy Flash gimmick that only annoyed readers. Other notable Flash cartoonists like John Barber and Daniel Merlin Goodbrey developed their key works around the same time as BS and probably weren't influenced; their work is also crucially different because they build pauses into the Flash movie so that the reader has control over the rate of the reading process.

The greatest potential influence of BS, though, may be on aspiring moviemakers. Here we have in effect an animated mini-series, several hours in length, created by a crew of four in their spare time with virtually no budget and cheap off-the-shelf software. Who needs investors? Who needs actors? Who needs a movie studio?

White:

Consistent I'll grant you, but I'm going to reiterate that there's a reason why getting through the last disc in the DVD series required me to drink copiously. The art throughout BS is consistently slipshod and awkward, even towards the end when the team should have become more seasoned. The sense of motion more closely resembles Marvel limited animation or video storybooks than most anime (unless we're referring to the low production values inherent in the TV-grade stuff).

Invoking Castle of Cagliostro in the same passage as Broken Saints only serves to illustrate how dreary Broken Saints is by comparison.

Campbell:

I have little to contribute to this one, because I confess that Broken Saints never really grabbed me and I certainly wasn't motivated to buy the CD.

For me, its chief virtues were its pioneering in indie animation and exploration of a new genre for the Web. The static visuals are stunning. Their motion is more like Gertie the Dinosaur than The Lion King-- the bear doesn't dance particularly well, but the achievement is that the bear dances at all.

It showed that Web audiences had an appetite for suspense, a quality that most existing Web entertainment lacked. I disapprove when creators define "suspense" as total obfuscation mixed with deep-sounding, shallow philosophy-- which you see in THE X-FILES, the MATRIX sequels, and BROKEN SAINTS. Every review of the series seems to have the same gist: "I don't know what's going on, but isn't it kewl?" I admit I don't know how it ends, though, and at least it *did* end.

Zabel:

Wednesday-- I don't mean for my assessment to undercut your earlier critique. There's a vast difference between peeking at a couple of segments, versus dutifully viewing the long saga in its entirety. They shoulda given you a WCCA award for your brave sacrifice, sitting through the entire harrowing experience!

I'm viewing the work from a historical perspective instead of a critical perspective. BS is historically significant because it's so unique. Also, it made a big impression and expanded the public's awareness of the potential of webcomics.

And finally, I'm interested in the potential of the BS crew's approach. What I meant by comparing it to Castle of Cagliostro is that it is conceivable that somebody could create a narrative with that kind of pacing while using the basic techniques of BS, i.e. Flash animation with captions and a soundtrack.

T makes an excellent point about how the series showed that audiences 'have an appetite for suspense.' I think it also shows that there's an audience for big, serious themes. Whether or not BS was able to deliver on its ambitious themes, clearly that's what intrigued so many people to continue reading.

William G:

Okay, I'll grant Broken Saints it's place in webcomics history for it's uniqueness. But it ain't a comic. It's a passive viewing experience for the reader. It's... a... very... oh... so... terribly... slow... animation pretending to be a comic.

Call me a McLuhanite if you must.

Justine Shaw

Zabel:

Justine Shaw's Nowhere Girl really did come out of nowhere in 2002, and was quite an amazing surprise, a 50-page graphic novel rendered in a polished, realistic style. Subtle, sad, and sonorous, it was like nothing that came before.

Shaw's tale had a startling and irresistible hook-- Jamie, it's confused young heroine, is planning her own suicide, and calmly making closure and peace with our world before committing the act. We witness her preparations, like giving her toaster to her neighbor. These symbolic acts are particularly unnerving, because they are a rehearsal for the final one.

As we follow her to visit her friend Daniel, the story becomes even more frightening. He is her only friend, her "tether to life" --but he is barely tolerant of her and annoyed by her visit. He is compassionate, however. Sensing her depression, he invites her to an art show. But in the process, Jamie comes to realize how little she knows about her only friend, and this further erodes her sense of self-worth.

I think the resolution of the drama is a bit too pat and optimistic. But in the process of tracing Jamie's problems back to their roots, Shaw reveals a traumatic passage in her protagonist's life, and demonstrates how secrets and denials of self can lead to tragedy.

Nowhere Girl is noteworthy for a number of reasons. For one thing, at the time it premiered, the webcomics community had become fixated on the view that longer stories were unreadable because the audience would grow uncomfortable looking at a computer screen. Nowhere Girl shattered that myth, as hundreds of thousands of readers found they couldn't tear themselves away until they'd finished all 50 pages of the story.

Nowhere Girl was one of the first webcomics exercises in realism. It was also one of the few webcomics to assume a serious tone about a potentially tragic subject.

And it was the first webcomic to be nominated for an Eisner award!

The story was originally presented as the first chapter of an ongoing saga. Shaw completed chapter two, which has brighter and more optimistic aspects, but which zeroes in on another character making even more fatalistic choices. At this writing Shaw is MIA in the world of webcomics, after completing the artwork on a brief prolog to a Patrick Farley epic, The Mother of All Bombs, in January of 2005.

Garrity:

Part One of "Nowhere Girl" was a revelation when it debuted: the art was leaps and bounds ahead of most of what was being done on the Web at the time, the story was engrossing, the presentation was perfectly suited for the Web without being overtly "experimental," and, well, it was huge. No one, to my knowledge, had previously dropped a complete graphic-novel-length work on the Web, whole and ready for consumption. It was exciting to witness and a joy to read. And it was a gas to be at the Eisners when Justine Shaw was nominated for the Eisner for Talent Deserving of Wider Recognition, the first cartoonist to be nominated strictly for webcomics work. Jason Shiga won, but brother, it's no shame to be beaten by Shiga.

Part Two is even better. In retrospect, Part One has the inevitable gawkiness of a new artist's work, with its adolescent angsting and the meandering narration that takes a little too long to get to the point. Part Two shears away the baby fat and presents a leaner, meaner story with a more mature voice behind it. It's a shame that financial constraints forced Shaw to (temporarily, I hope) abandon comics after Part Two. I've been eagerly anticipating her collaboration with Patrick Farley; they've both been sorely missed.

James Kochalka

Zabel:

One of the most significant aspects of James Kochalka as a webcomicker is that he already established himself quite well in print comics with graphic novels like Monkey Vs. Robot. He's certainly not the first pro to open shop on the internet with major new original work (that distinction probably goes to Bill Holbrook for Kevin and Kell.) But having James and Tom Hart joined Modern Tales was a watershed event for the artcomics wing of webcomics.

James has a fascinating career in print; he's certainly one of the most controversial and influential artists of the past decade. Along with Hart, he helped to popularize a new style of comic that was much simpler and more direct than the artcomics of the past. He coined the phrase "craft is the enemy," which he explains thusly: 'Technical mastery of one's medium does not an artist make. The only quality you need is the ability to open yourself with honesty, and pluck out the truth.' His view is rather prescient, considering the success of so many webcomics that make little claim to craftsmanship!

Early on, Kochalka developed a distinctive voice. His work is plain-spoken and very honest. It also indulges quite freely in fantasy and surrealism. Kochalka has had remarkable success in creating comics for young children; in fact all his books have a juvenile tone, and I suspect many of his adult fans find them a rejuvenating experience.

American Elf, The Sketchbook Diaries of James Kochalka was a revolutionary concept. It isn't simply a daily version of Harvey Pekar's American Splendor. It's a merging of autobiography with Kochalka's strong poetic sensibility.

Kochalka manages time and again to highlight small moments from his life that seem to cast profound implications upon the universe and our experience of it. Take his first comic, from May 12, 2002. "So many things happen each day. Lots and lots of little things. Which one shall I draw about?/ Smoking in the rain... sharing." It's as if the very method of the comic is a philosophical statement: that the small moments we experience are what life is really about.

He take to this form naturally because of his childlike outlook. It's as if everything is still new to him-- finding a penny in the street, pissing in the rain, the burn inside his mouth where a hotdog scalded. And his art is well-suited to realism. In spite of his ultra-simplified style, he is able to draw well enough that objects and scenes look familiar and substantial.

Although he premiered the series as a newspaper strip, it seems a natural as a webcomic because of the immediacy of the medium. You can see today what happened to James yesterday, and that fosters an unusually intimate relationship between author and reader.

Obviously his work has been very influential. Drew Weing's The Journal Comic gave the format a slacker spin; Kean Soo's Keaner.net took the form into even more personal territory, and Jeffrey Rowland's Overcompensating leads it into a purely satirical direction.

Stevenson:

"Craft is the enemy." - I find this amusing because Kochalka is a master of craft, both in art and in writing/philosophy.

I had a conversation with him and Jeffrey Brown at this year's San Diego con. We talked about color theory and the transition from web to print and back. I walked away with some great resource suggestions. So Kochalka strikes me as someone who's very knowledgeable, if not interested, in craft.

I guess it's fine to still see craft as an enemy, but I don't know how deeply I would have been willing to dig into his work were it made of clip art. The artwork seems to be at least a third the key to the honesty of the Sketchbook Diaries.

Zabel:

Agreed! For the most part, I absolutely love what Kochalka does with color in American Elf. He divulged something about that at an SPX-Expo forum a year or so ago. He does the comic in b&w, then imports it into Photoshop. Then he plays with the channels to turn the black lines into color lines.

What's most interesting is where he learned this technuque. When he first decided to create a webcomic, Scott McCloud himself called him up on the phone and explained the whole thing to him. That certainly was some good advice!

Kahn:

One of the greatest comic-related gifts I've ever received was American Elf, vol. 1. It collects the first five years. The thing is huge. I got it in August and I'm still chipping away at it. I just finished year three.

Journal comics are a genre I enjoy a lot, and Kochalka is the pioneer. His stuff just rings so true. The inherent problem with writing a comic about your own life, or using elements therein, is maintaining the link between the comic and your life while also keeping the material accessible. Doing stuff about yourself, but not so "inside" that nobody gets it.

Kochalka does that. There hasn't been a single strip that I just "didn't get." You could say he's very "getable." Like others have said, it's not difficult to understand his work because it's about the little things. The simple things. And there's beauty in simplicity.

Garrity:

I've been sitting here trying to think of something to write about "American Elf," and I give up. It just is, is all. It's one of the best comics running today, on or offline. It's the touchstone for an entire mini-movement in webcomics, and it inspired what is arguably the first original genre of comics to arise on the Web. It's also, in my opinion, the best comic James Kochalka has yet produced; in many ways, it seems to be the comic he was born to draw. But it's so simple, so spontaneous, so specific to Kochalka, that it almost defies criticism. When it's boring or nonsensical or rude, those things aren't usually weaknesses; they reflect the way that life is sometimes boring or nonsensical or rude. And when it's funny or most moving, it hits you from off-center, from somewhere just outside your peripheral vision.

I will say that Kochalka has improved dramatically as a cartoonist and a draftsman since he began his diary comic. Craft may be the enemy, but the daily regimen has whittled him into a hell of a craftsman. His figures are effectively and appealingly rendered, his colors bright and harmonious, his lettering adorable. He's developed his own visual language and he uses it with grace (and occasional self-referential humor, most memorably in the strip where JasonX hangs out with Spandy).

A big part of the appeal of "American Elf" is the daily pleasure of watching Kochalka's life tumble past the pinhole of his comic. I subscribed to americanelf.com after the strip in which Kochalka let slip that his wife Amy was pregnant, because I knew I wouldn't want to miss a day of this adventure. It's been well worth it. And today Eli was on the potty, talking in full sentences, and my chest tightened briefly as I realized how quickly time flies...

This is not just a good comic but an absorbing experience, and that experience wouldn't be fully possible without the instantaneous delivery of the Web. What Kochalka is doing with his jittery little four-panel strip is every bit as groundbreaking as what guys like Patrick Farley and Demian5 are doing with their lush interactive scrolls. If any webcomic will be remembered and loved a hundred years from now, it will be this one.

And it turns out I had a lot to write after all.

Burns:

In Kolchalka and Patrick Farley alike, I always get a sense that they bring the tools to bear to tell the story. In Farley's case, it's the most advanced toolsets available, but always in service to what he's actually trying to produce.

In Kolchalka's case, it seems far simpler. He uses pen and ink. He scans it. He colors electronically, his palette highlighting the simplicity of the work.

And yet, Kolchalka is on the forward edge, technologically. It's just the innovation that Kolchalka brings to bear -- the innovation that to my mind elevates "American Elf" above even his print work -- is immediacy.

We get snapshots of Kolchalka's life, told sparingly -- just enough detail to highlight the moments. We see glimpses and pieces put together. Like Shaenon, I was reading before Amy got pregnant. To see Eli talking today is to see a kind of real and honest character evolution that can only come through the artistic interpretation of real life. Kolchalka and his wife don't need videotapes of Eli's different stages -- they'll have these comics that convey the essence of Eli through each stage of his development.

This immediacy is heightened by the Magic Realism of Kochalka's style. Of course one of his friends is green with one eye. Of course another of his friends is a talking dog. Of course he has pointy ears. This is the world James Kolchalka lives in. That doesn't make it any less realistic -- that brings the essence of his world out artistically.

Kolchalka brought journal webcomics to the forefront of the medium by being willing to let the truth of the moments in time come through artistically, with the immediacy of day to day life.

Also, he draws a frog with a very large penis. But I digress.

Godek:

The idea that "craft is the enemy" probably extends from the same punk-rock- populist ideals that said learning to play guitar "just gets in the way." Craft is seen as a kind of gloss or a barrier between idea and expression and one that keeps the masses (the audience) separate from the elite (the creator). Those kinds of separations are widely held in disdain in any punk-ish ethos. I definitely see where he's coming from in that statement. Removing craft as a barrier allows anyone to become a cartoonist and is no longer a stumbling block for their self expression.

That's actually one of the more exciting things about the webcomic culture, in my opinion - the blending of creator and audience. If everyone's an artist then were a community of peers instead of the more traditional creator/consumer relationship. Forums and comments further blur the separation. On the internet, the audience often has a direct link to the author and therefore a more personal investment in the work. I'm not sure in how much of this was fostered by Kochalka and American Elf, or just the natural conclusion of the technology being readily available. But you're right, Joe. That statement was awfully prescient, in a webcomics context, and primitively based comics do proliferate.

That being said, the idea that craft is the "enemy" is, to me, patently ridiculous. The removal of technical proficiency as an impediment to expression can be quite liberating, but some element of craft goes into any effort, no matter how naive. Kochalka's own methods, as you guys suggest, may be more sophisticated than his epigram suggests.

Brandy Danner:

Referring to what Tim Godek said about "the audience often has a direct link to the author"--

Actually, this is one of the very interesting things about American Elf: Kochalka is a frequent poster in his own forum. People read his comic and go post something to the forum in response--everything from "wow, that was great" to "is Eli's rash back?"--and they can actually talk to James Kochalka. Readers can ask--and have answered!--their questions about every little going-on in Kochalka's life. For example, an astute reader once asked in the forum why James always draws someone else in the driver's seat, and Kochalka replied that he didn't drive. (A few weeks later there was a reference to getting a Vermont Non-Driver ID renewed, but that was the first time it had ever been stated outright in the comic that he didn't drive.) Even his intern had a popular thread in the AE forum for a while, and if that's not investment in a creator's life, I'm not sure what is.

We see a fleeting moment of Kochalka's life through AE. Every single strip has a sincerity that's incredibly difficult to find in other webcomics. But the extra layer of the forum fosters a deeper connection/investment in the comic. The lens of Kochalka's life is just a little bit wider than it would be otherwise.

[Editor's note: more on James Kochalka here.]

Roger Langridge

Zabel:

Fred The Clown is certainly one of the seminal series in webcomics. But it doesn't display any particular virtues that could be called web--specific. In fact, the series was in print before coming to the web, and is available in its entirety in four 32-page comics.

No, what Fred The Clown brought to the web was something quite simple-- quality. Unimpeachable quality. Short tales that seemed perfect in every way, and which were polished to a high sheen. Gag-strips which delighted in their slapstick, but stumbled into the most bewildering depths of human experience.

Langridge is a sought-after commercial artist, and anyone browsing the elegantly-precise rendering in Fred The Clown, Zoot Suite, The 13th Floor, or Hotel Fred can see why. He also has a keen professional eye for tinting, and his work is a technicolor playground of tonal variety.

But his comics are not merely slick. They have a playful cynicism about them that reveals an adventurous intellect breaking free. Like an antithesis of James Kochalka, he's a revolutionary for whom craft has never been the enemy.

Fred The Clown is a one-of-a-kind strip, and a hard act to follow; I think Langridge's other comics will always exist in its shadow.

It's a repeating-concept series, part of a tradition dating back to George Herriman's Krazy Kat. It focuses narrowly on the romantic ambitions and inevitable failures of the ultimate unsuitable suitor, Fred. But the variations Langridge plays on this theme takes it into an infinity of directions.

A strong points of the series is Langridge's ability to encapsulate an entire complex episode in a single 5" X 7" graphic. On the rare occasions when he creates continuing stories, they never seem to have the punch of the one-shots. These little gems always manage to balance a succinct reiteration of Fred's romantic dilemma with a startling exercise in style.

Fred the Clown displays Langridge's fondness for parodies, and his sources range from the familiar to the obscure. "You're a dirty old man Father Frederick," seems to be spoofing a 19th century newspaper lampoon. "Little Freddy Phlegm," is a spot-on homage to Winsor McCay.

Langridge's mastery of language is as impressive as his talent as a graphic artist, and Fred The Clown is an incredible showcase of his virtuosity. An early episode breaks down the basic Fred plot into a string of single words, "Action, Diction, Fiction?, Suction, Friction, Traction." In a more elaborate mood, Langridge presents a beguiling homily in verse on the subject of "Reasons to Be Cheerful Part 4:"

Having silly notions, Living near the ocean, Regular bowel motions And beans on toast

Frilly little knickers, Muttley when he snickers, bumpers with no stickers and parcel post

Trousers long and baggy, faces going saggy, Popeye, Jiggs and Maggie and Charles M. Jones

Jeffrey Archer losing, catalogue perusing, solitary boozing and traffic cones

Buster, Stan and Ollie, Sucking on a lolly, Singing "Hello Dolly" and wooden floors

Hot or Rainy weather, trying to be clever, tickle with a feather and loud applause

Whistling a ditty, visiting a city, feeling very pretty and "Dogger Fife"

Singing songs of revel, being on the level, laughing at the devil, Embracing life

-- The guy's a fuckin' genius!

Garrity:

Roger Langridge is a strange talent to have on the Web, because he's such an old-school cartoonist. His influences are early comic strips (especially "Thimble Theatre"), early cartoons (especially the Fleischer Brothers comedy shorts), and silent movie comedy; he's old-fashioned even by the standards of indie print comics.

But he's also a remarkably flexible and ingenious artist, and he was one of the first major print cartoonists to produce sizable amounts of work for the Web.

Roger has said that he sees the Web primarily as a testing ground for print work. But for him that doesn't mean rough sketches, doodles, or side projects -- it means producing scads of polished, print-ready, consistently brilliant and funny work, then culling the very best for print publication. A lot of the stuff that doesn't make the cut, incidentally, is fantastic, so fans who only follow him on print miss out on a lot of good stuff.

He also takes advantage of Jason Shiga's old adage ( "On the internet, color is FREE!") to do beautiful color versions of work that is printed in black and white. He's a great example of a cartoonist who works comfortably in both Web and print, and who finds the Web useful for some things, print for others.

I'd love to say more in praise of Roger's work, particularly his graceful line and the round, vibrant, bouncy quality to everything he draws, but I'm biased because I've worked with him, so I'll tactfully withdraw for now. He's on my short list of the very best cartoonists working today, on or off the Web, and it's a joy to have so much of his work available at the click of a mouse.

Jim Zubkavich

Brandy Danner:

Jim Zubkavich’s Makeshift Miracle is the comic that got me to start reading webcomics regularly, so there's a soft place in my heart for it.

An atmospheric tale of teenage ennui and dream fulfillment, it debuted online in September of 2001 and joined the Modern Tales starting lineup soon after. It concluded its 172-page story in March of 2003, earning praise from comics creators from Mike Kunkel to Boxjam. In 2002, the series won a Cartoonist’s Choice award for Best Newcomer.

The story begins when a young woman named Iris crashes out of the sky, giving Colby’s teenaged life a turn for the surreal. Soon, he’s answering dream-telephones while awake, descending hollow trees growing in his living room, and finding himself in a place where his best friend aspires to the throne. Before he can leave, he has to decide where he truly wants to be—and why he’s there in the first place.

The dialogue and voice-overs set the tone of the story. Most of the captions are excerpts from Colby’s journal, with all the angsty lyricism of a typical teenager. (as accurately captured by Zubkavich.) These passages emphasize Colby's solitude, and slacken the pace of the story.

The solitude and pacing are also emphasized by the art style. While Zubkavich’s drawing verges on the cartoonish, his coloring give the comic a more refined, sophisticated look. Each page is colored in a single hue—shades of either blue, green, or tan—and the lack of color contrast on each page slows the eye, encouraging the reader to linger over the visuals. These cool, calm colors lend a surreal, dream-like quality to the story.

As good as the writing and art are, where this comic really shines is in the pacing. The story unfolds slowly, each page revealing tantalizingly little. The comic never drags, though, whether read in a single sitting or just a page at a time on the original update schedule. The text and the art work together to create a flowing narrative, neither one rushing or holding back the other. From a tree in the living room to the crashing an airship in a whispering storm, the first hundred pages of The Makeshift Miracle create a deepening, widening sense of mysterious wonder. There is a sense that the comic is building toward something big: all will be revealed soon, but it will probably take just as much space to tell the climax and resolution as it did to tell the rest of the story.

Unfortunately, Zubkavich’s work doesn't quite follow through. While the first six chapters maintain an even pace, with the beginning of chapter 7 the story picks up speed. Colby’s voice-overs seem more rushed and demand more answers; there is less of a sense of puzzling out the situation and more a hurried desire to get this whole thing sorted out. With fewer than 50 pages remaining, information is no longer slowly doled out, but rather is provided in long chunks of exposition. There is more of a mission to Colby’s and Iris’s travels than when they started out; they have someone they must see and speak to immediately. The secondary story of Blake’s royal aspirations suddenly becomes more frantic. Moments of high, fast drama (such as Colby taking a swing at Esurio) lack the urgency they ought to have as a result of the cool greens and blues that color those pages. The text races ahead of the visuals, blending the moods and tones incongruously. The careful pacing of the comic’s early chapters begins to fall apart as we approach the climactic moments of both Colby’s and Blake’s stories.

Pacing problems aside, The Makeshift Miracle is still a very good comic. But the quickening pace, coupled with the flat, clichéd writing of the final pages, gives the impression that Zubkavich grew tired of writing and producing webcomics and was eager to get his experiment over with.

It's been nearly three years since Zubkavich's been seen in webcomics. That's disappointing to fans who wonder what else the Best Newcomer of 2002 is capable of.

Zabel:

Brandy, I think you overstates the case a bit about the concluding third of the story. The pace picks up slightly; there is a bit more exposition, because at long last there are some answers to some of the mysteries. But I think it's more consistent than you're suggesting, and I think it's natural for the pace of a story to pick up towards the end.

But you certainly put your finger on the most distinguishing virtue of Makeshift Miracle-- the pacing. The story moves along remarkably well, everything is clearly expressed and clearly illustrated. The pages are wonderfully balanced and uncluttered, the lettering pleasant and eye-friendly. The simple tinting of the pages is very effective in giving us the pleasure of tone and color without the complications of contrasting hues. It actually seems to put us at ease as we read.

Makeshift Miracle is also notable for the seriousness and romanticism of the story. Zubkavich never resorts to comic relief, and it turns out the narrative doesn't need it. He also never resorts to what you've called the Security Blanket, i.e., pop-culture references. His restraint and seriousness gives the story a sense of timelessness.

I really enjoy the fantasy universe created here. Most fantasy stories use familiar mythical creatures and places as their jumping off point-- witches, dragons, and so on. But Makeshift Miracle posits a universe like no other. And even at the end of the story, there's still so many unanswered questions about this other plain of existence.

Brandy Danner:

I dunno, it just feels rushed to me. At the time I read it (when those pages went up on Modern Tales), the ending felt a little flat, a little too soon, a little too... rushed. Re-reading it now, a couple of years later, I found the ending much the same. I understand that the pace will pick up as we head toward the climax, and that there's exposition as we finally find the one person who knows what's going on. But it still felt like the ending of the comic was dropped in our laps while the creator ran off to ... well, whatever else he ran off to.

I find it telling, somehow, that the "history" section of his website was written just as Zubkavich finished Page 40. He says that he'd "never thought [he]'d be able to create this much content and update the site on a regular basis." He had the idea for a few years before he ever started officially working on the comic--he says he first started thinking about it in Summer 1998. As I see it, he was all gung-ho on the comic at the beginning, very excited about it, but by the time five years had passed, he was a little Done With It and ready to wrap it up.

I do, however, agree with what you're saying about the timelessness of this piece. No flying cars, no big hair, nothing that really screams out a time period. That's a good thing. By not locking the comic into a specific time or place on a cultural map, it becomes more of an Everyman story. "Security Blanket" aside, I think it can be easier to connect, to relate, to a comic and its characters when there aren't other references vying for your attention. In a story-driven comic like this one, you don't want something that will pull a reader out of the story to say, "hey, I have those same sneakers!" or "Iris eats the same cereal I do!" In a gag-a-day-type strip, it's okay to pull the reader out; they'll be out at the end of the gag anyway. In an ongoing story where the author wants us to care about the characters, the focus should be on the characters.

And I always like to see fantasy that doesn't involve unicorns or perpetually-half-naked girls.

Zabel:

But... Iris is completely naked when she first comes on the scene!?!

Alexander Danner:

That's what I said!

Brandy Danner:

Ha! That's why I said "perpetually." (I did choose my words carefully.)

And since she was fully naked, and then later fully dressed, she never spent ANY time in that half-nekkid state anyway.

Burns:

But if she was naked, and then fully dressed, by implication and on average she was half-naked.

Statistically.

Alexander Danner:

Now we're getting somewhere! This is literary analysis at it's best!

Bridging to the Future

Zabel:

Charley Parker and Cat Garza played with the webcomics form like the new toy it was. Then Patrick Farley, Tristan Farnon, Demian5, Derek Kirk Kim and Justine Shaw showed up with a group of impressive works, epic in length and complex in theme. Meanwhile, another group of cartoonists, including Pete Abrams, Scott Kurtz, Tycho and Gabe, were attracting webcomics audiences large enough and loyal enough that they could actually earn a living from their work. Then with the subscription webcomics movement, another group of artists entered the field, including James Kochalka and Roger Langridge.

My intuition is that the artistic movements these groups represent have run their courses. The individual artists continue to grow and evolve. But the dot com boom is a fading memory, and webcomics have moved from novelty to trend, and from trend to outdated panacea.

So many artists have come and gone that you could justly call webcomics a revolving door. One of the artists we named last year as representing "the future of webcomics" has left the field. The winner this year of the first-ever Eisner Award for "best digital comic" has already pulled his work from the web. In looking back at our "Best Webcomics of 2004" you'll find that almost half of those artists have left.

But every artist who leaves is replaced by two more, and every old idea gives way to new and untried possibilities.

What is happening now that will be remembered by future historians? Well, maybe the gang over at Truth and Beauty Bombs will leave behind a crater or two. Dinosaur Comics and A Softer World are quite refreshing with their outlaw aesthetic, and Perry Bible Fellowship is a work of astounding quality erected on a firmament of pure cynicism.

Or how about A Lesson Is Learned But The Damage is Irreversible? This series harkens back to Garza, Farley, and Farnon in its dramatically poetic expressionism. But it wisely sets boundaries for itself, containing its epic vision within a single page. Is that a method that will weather the attention-span deficit of webcomics audiences? In any case it doesn't seem to matter to the creators whether it does or it doesn't. Which brings me to another point--

We've seen the wave of webcomics careerists, who put out their shingles and waited for the cash to come pouring in. Now we may be seeing the coming of webcomickers who are a little less greedy.

I'm fond of this little paragraph from Nine Planets Without Intelligent Life creator Adam Reed's blog, describing the artists from his alma mater: "They work in coffee shops and strip clubs and warehouses to make ends meet, but when those ends are met, they're out there sabotaging billboards, organizing exhibitions in burnt-out warehouses, and drawing webcomics. Occasionally, one of them will stage a group show on the theme of masturbation; half of them will be in it and the other half will lambaste it in print." Putting webcomics in such company seems very comforting and sustainable.

Webcomics used to be shiny. It's touching, really, to look back on the early webcomics and sense the high-spirits and optimism of their creators. And it's a little disheartening to realize that webcomics are shiny no more. But maybe in the long run webcomics can accomplish more as a tarnished, slightly disreputable medium. It's the artists, after all, who make the medium special, not the other way around.

T. Campbell:

They're still shiny to me. I don't know if I ever regarded the Web as a panacea-- I might have regarded it as a nuclear fallout shelter at one point, back when comic-book sales were in freefall and manga was still an undiscovered market. Perhaps the money is disappointing if you put too much stock in the dreams of micropayments or subscriptions-- those seem like the true "outdated panaceas" to me. Subscriptions may have secured a place, but I once believed they'd become the standard.

As a creative person, though, I see more reasons for optimism all the time. Talented traditionalists and a new generation of innovators have pushed the form forward in 2005. When we look back on this year in five years, I think we will agree that its most significant event was Phil and Kaja Foglio and Carla Speed McNeil very publicly moving away from single-issue publication to Web publication. Financially motivated to be sure, but nevertheless a sign that the professional cartooning community is starting to regard us as more like suburbia than the projects. Keep this up and our upper echelon might become the Hamptons.

Artistic histories often come down to "he invented this" and "she tested this theory." These pioneers have explored the terrain and tested its properties. Now that we know our way around, we're still just beginning to build.

William G.:

I think we're at the "THE BEGINNING OF THE END OF WEBCOMICS AS WE KNOW IT." As T said, print comic "names" are showing up and finding the web a much more financially promising place than print. More creators looking for the ability to make coin off of their creator-owned work will follow, and they're going to bring the print companies into the fold.

They will drive a lot of the current crop of artists out. Sure, there is an infinite amount of shelf-space on the web, but the readers do not have an infinite amount of time. Readers will have to chose between a grungy, may-have-potential webcomic artist and a very shiny, at-the-top-of-their-game former print comic artist(who may have name recognition on top of that). Kid Grungy won't stand a chance.

As history of mediums have shown us, it's the geeks who do all of the hard work. Now it's time for the tradesmen to come in, say "Thankyouveddymuch, now gedoudahere yapunks!" And the tradesmen are going to be the ones to finally sell the idea of webcomics to the general population where we have failed to do so.

The status quo as we enjoy it now is going to become nothing more than a era of nostalgia.

As they say: Make hay. Winter's a comin'.

Garrity:

Bill, I don't think the print cartoonists entering the Web pose much of a threat to the webcomics world.

The webcomics playing field is very different from the print comics field; that's why print cartoonists are coming here in the first place. A lot of the comics that do well in the print world simply don't have much of an audience on the Web. The obvious example is superhero comics: you just don't see a lot of 'em around these parts. Meanwhile, comics that don't necessarily do well in print often do great on the Web; the daily strip format flourishes here at the same time it's dying in newspapers.

To be perfectly honest, I can't think of any creator or franchise in the print comics world that could come onto the Web and make such an enormous splash that it would Change the Face of Webcomics Forever. The people who are big there are not the people who are big here. Who have been the major print-to-Web successes so far? James Kochalka, Roger Langridge, the Foglios, hopefully Carla Speed McNeil... very talented and engaging cartoonists who do work that tends to get buried in the print comics "mainstream." On the Web, they have the chance to shine and find new readers, but I don't think they're in any danger of taking food out of Scott Kurtz's mouth.

Furthermore, I disagree that the infinite shelf space on the Web is at much of a premium, even now. Yes, as more gifted, polished artists enter the Web, it will get harder for unpolished, not-so-gifted artists to get noticed. Here's the thing, though. Most of the exceptional new artists in webcomics are not print comics veterans. Kazu Kibuishi, Kean Soo, Ursula Vernon, Spike, Svetlana Chmakova, Raina Telgemeier, the Pants Press group, the Dumbrella group... none of them had much work published in print when they came to the Web. Svetlana and Raina now have very successful print projects, and Kazu publishes the wonderful "Flight" anthologies (which represent the only print work of many up-and-coming webcomics prodigies), but they aren't print cartoonists who built legions of fans before muscling onto the Web. They're young cartoonists who happen to move easily between Web and print.

Which brings me to my last counterpoint: the distinction between webcomics and print comics is increasingly arbitrary. It's not an Us vs. Them thing. The most successful cartoonists of the next few years will be those who can work comfortably and creatively in both formats. The webcartoonists most threatened by this trend aren't the untested up-and-comers; they'll survive if they're good.

Another group in trouble are the established webcartoonists who do very Web-specific work. The emerging Web-to-print market threatens the type of freewheeling experimentation long touted by Scott McCloud as the future of comics, the work exemplified by many of the brilliant innovators we've discussed in the roundtable: Cat Garza, Patrick Farley, Demian5. To put it bluntly, artistic experimentation is hard work and there's no money in it. Webcomics that can translate to print are much more potentially lucrative, and much more appealing to new cartoonists.

In the next couple of years, I think we'll continue to see a lot of fantastic new webcartoonists and a continuing rise in the overall quality of webcomics. However, we'll also see a whole lot less McCloudian experimentation. The concern isn't that print comics will destroy webcomics. It's that webcomics will become so much like print comics as to make no difference.

Zabel:

Shaenon, I have a different view about experimentation. The tools for creating enhanced digital art-- animation, sound, etc.-- are always getting better. More people are switching to broadband, so these effects are becoming easier to access. And as we start to fill up the Infinite Bookshelf, more and more artists will be looking for ways to move to the front of the shelf. Enhanced digital effects is one of the ways.

What most of the experiments of the past have lacked is integration. A small animation effect is inserted in a panel, but the rest of the panels are static. It may not even be clear why it's animated in the first place. But as these tools become more familiar and easier to use, artists will learn better how to integrate them into their work and how to use them to drive storytelling, characterization, and reader interest.

I don't think webcomics have to be different from print comics, but it's so much more sexy when they are.

Ok, that's a wrap.

As lengthy as this study has been, we were obliged to bypass several major, historically important artists here for lack of time, and because we had coverage of them elsewhere in The Examiner. Derek Kirk Kim was the subject of an earlier roundtable. John Allison was discussed in an Examiner feature. Tracy White is interviewed elsewhere in this issue.

Thanks to our participants for taking the time to delve into webcomics past, and putting up with your moderator's relentless nagging. Thanks to our dear readers for puzzling over these sometimes windy passages.

And a very deeply felt thank you to the many dedicated artists of webcomics past, whose talent, hard work, and daring have provided us all with a wealth of inspiration.

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