Current Mood: metal
Every once in a while I mention a webcomic I've recently discovered, and now is another one of those times. The comic in mention comes as a banner ad from
Dinosaur Comics (this is ammunition against my theory that internet advertising is virtually worthless). It is called "
Minus" by Ryan Armand, and it's a series of
paintings scanned into a more web-friendly format. It follows the adventures of a young hyper-imaginative eponymous girl with super powers. She is able to manipulate matter, time, and anything else she wishes, often with surreal or humorous result.
The art is fantastic, by the way. I refuse to believe it is not in some way inspired in some way by
Calvin and Hobbes, which is not at all a bad thing (quite the opposite, in fact, since that is one of my favorite strips ever). Actually, several of my favorite comic artists list Bill Watterson as an influence. I would.
Want to check out
the strip? Here are my personal recommendations:
One of the most epic comics I've ever seen.The comic from which the banner ad came from.An adorable puppy strip that's too hard to resist.Return of adorable puppy.My last example here (
playing in the clouds) illustrates perfectly a certain moment in comics (and is unique to this medium) that I really enjoy but struggle to define. I think it's somewhat related to the "silent beat" of other media, but I have to take a moment to explain what I mean.
The comic itself is a mute medium (unlike film, music, plays, etc., but similar to a book), this much is obvious. And most panels in comics portray some sort of dialog, and while not audible, it gives the viewer some sense of "mental" sound to attach to each frame. Rarely, however, does a strip contain no words, no text, no sound effects (such as onomatopoeia) or other types of
comic vocabulary [if you're having trouble with that last one, think of the word "yoink" written over a character's hand as he swipes the last slice of pizza - not spoken, not narration, and not even really a sound effect, but still a quintessentially comic book feature]. Even beyond that, most readers will superimpose some sort of background noise, extrapolated or assumed given the situation, background, environment, whatever.
Rarely, though, a comic strip will portray a moment that I can imagine completely and entirely silent (and in fact, the lack of letters in the frame often forces me to evaluate it in terms of this). In these rare cases, I think that the lack of lettering, and the absence of sound (imagined or intentioned) makes the frame even more poignant than the frame itself carries.
It's as if...imagine you were reading a comic that ended with the destruction of an entire city, perhaps by way of a massive bomb planted by the villain. Let us also imagine the writers wanted to convey this as extremely sad or tragic. You
could show this with massive explosions, buildings crumbling, people screaming and dying, the screech and whine of metal, concrete, rubble, etc. clashing, crashing, crackling, burning, and tumbling. I'm sure the point would be made, that the destruction was awful. Also note the generous application of sound description.
OR
You could zoom out far enough - into the stratosphere, if you like - where
none of it can be heard. You simply see a flash of light, and the city is gone.*
I would argue that the latter - completely devoid of sound - makes a bigger impact.
To return to my original example (the Minus strip), I can easily imagine the sounds in the early frames. The rain- in the air, against the ground, and even against the plastic of the frisbee, all make distinctive sounds in my head. A frisbee makes a distinctive
whiff through the air, and a satisfying
thock in your hand when you catch it. Just as easily, you can tell the girls are speaking to each other, laughing and playing, then expressing disappointment at the rain, and finally the suggestion to get out of the rain.
The final frame, however, is zoomed out far enough that I imagine it to be completely silent, above the rain, and the laughter, the sounds of the frisbee are silent to me. That, in my mind, only makes the final frame an even purer moment, one that defines the beauty of the artwork and the simplistic pleasure of playing catch with a friend.
*I suppose you could make a sound argument that it's also easier to draw it that way, so it's more of a convenience frame than anything else, but I'm going to assume the best and hope that it was an artistic choice meant to evoke more emotion.
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