Ten or eleven years ago anime was an underground trend known only to a few promiscuous nerds. I was one of them, because the powers that be willed my communion with the now-dubbed wiiaboo subculture.
I've read a few manga, watched countless anime, and while not being a fan of it, have a sizable reservoir of knowledge associated with the craft. I grew away from anime/manga purely as a cosmetic preference, and I have no objections to the wide-spread acceptance of the form. The world abroad loves it, and I would be foolish to denounce it simply because it may not appeal to me.
One being used to what we consider to be a conventional graphic format of reading left to right and top to bottom is entirely different from the way it works in Japan, and yet similar somehow. In some ways it's a little easier on the readers. I mentioned that our comics work from top to bottom, but the English language is a horizontal one. Japanese is vertical, and as such, the images are arranged vertically along with the vertical format of the printed books themselves. This is quite enjoyable, and makes for a punctual experience.
It often annoys me when a graphic novel or comic (though less often so) incorporates a massive wall of text. It's a visual narrative, so the text should be kept to a surmountable limit. Manga appears to be very good about keeping that balance.
- Cameron
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Motion Comics
For a long time I've been at odds with the very notion of motion comics. Are they necessary? Probably, probably not. The aim of the comic artist is to capture the essence of movement with a static image, conveying what has come and what is to come by emphasizing a single frame of character. Motion comics, to me, are simply this concept taken literally.
I prefer to interpret these things as the artist saw them in their basest form. I don't want the process lain before me like someone is holding my hand to do it. It's like the difference between Christianity and Atheism with Agnosticism in between - it seems to me that the motion comic doesn't know which one to be. Motion comics should be treated as a fascinating supplement to the medium, not a possible vestige for supplantation. Motion comics are dependent on a comic reader's ability to follow an arranged series of panels and composition, much less so than traditional comics. This guidance may or may not help veteran readers figure out new ways to enjoy comics, or new readers learn the way comics work. Like I said, it's a supplement, nothing more, not that it's a bad thing.
I prefer to interpret these things as the artist saw them in their basest form. I don't want the process lain before me like someone is holding my hand to do it. It's like the difference between Christianity and Atheism with Agnosticism in between - it seems to me that the motion comic doesn't know which one to be. Motion comics should be treated as a fascinating supplement to the medium, not a possible vestige for supplantation. Motion comics are dependent on a comic reader's ability to follow an arranged series of panels and composition, much less so than traditional comics. This guidance may or may not help veteran readers figure out new ways to enjoy comics, or new readers learn the way comics work. Like I said, it's a supplement, nothing more, not that it's a bad thing.
The Comic Book
To me the continued narrative is an essential aspect of storytelling. We begin with some sort of encounter or conflict and observe a character or several as they strive to reach a goal. This series of events that leads to an outcome fills the air around us with suspense, and of course we love it. We love drama! The exaggeration of dramatic storytelling creates a larger-than-life scenario that we can immerse ourselves in and satisfy that craving for that over the top experience.
Where the comic strip typically lives in the amber of the moment, a continuous narrative surrounds a character with a sense of purpose and gives them some long term objective that may give us hope to one day overcome some adversity in our lives.
With this in mind, I have been writing, in longhand, a manuscript for the last twelve years. I wouldn't even consider it 1% complete. Not finished, but complete. Fully established as a universe of its own. This, however, isn't what I want to talk about. What I really want to talk about is the idea of continuous narrative and how I came to realize its importance to me.
My universe began with a very simple concept, as ideas often do. A few close friends and I frequently played Ghost Recon Island Thunder over Xbox Live for some time and had exhausted the game's potential for entertainment. Eventually we came up with something to rejuvenate our excitement. The three or four of us decided to continue the story ourselves, making up our own enemies and environments. Engineering our own characters and sending them off into the depths of hell to return grizzled bitter bastards who'd seen it all!
Over the last twelve years these men and women have reached new understanding, interacted with countless other characters, fought in almost every conceivable type of battle, and had honed their trades to the utmost efficiency as they struggle to survive the ruthlessness and lethality of their dark and gritty reality. These characters are how we see ourselves if this really were our reality. Whenever I refer to my character in conversation, I speak of him in the first person sense, referring to him as "me" not "he." While this sometimes compromises the momentum of conversation, I have to qualms about doing it. This is how I envisioned myself in my universe. Why create a fictional reality if you won't excercise the unique advantage of participating in it?
I am about 600 years of age and am now on a campaign to help one of the friends I began this endless journey with discover the secrets of his past. Together we will face the odds of this hostile universe and learn what we must. But what will happen after then, if we succeed? Who knows! Though I doubt we'll be content to ignore it!
Where the comic strip typically lives in the amber of the moment, a continuous narrative surrounds a character with a sense of purpose and gives them some long term objective that may give us hope to one day overcome some adversity in our lives.
With this in mind, I have been writing, in longhand, a manuscript for the last twelve years. I wouldn't even consider it 1% complete. Not finished, but complete. Fully established as a universe of its own. This, however, isn't what I want to talk about. What I really want to talk about is the idea of continuous narrative and how I came to realize its importance to me.
My universe began with a very simple concept, as ideas often do. A few close friends and I frequently played Ghost Recon Island Thunder over Xbox Live for some time and had exhausted the game's potential for entertainment. Eventually we came up with something to rejuvenate our excitement. The three or four of us decided to continue the story ourselves, making up our own enemies and environments. Engineering our own characters and sending them off into the depths of hell to return grizzled bitter bastards who'd seen it all!
Over the last twelve years these men and women have reached new understanding, interacted with countless other characters, fought in almost every conceivable type of battle, and had honed their trades to the utmost efficiency as they struggle to survive the ruthlessness and lethality of their dark and gritty reality. These characters are how we see ourselves if this really were our reality. Whenever I refer to my character in conversation, I speak of him in the first person sense, referring to him as "me" not "he." While this sometimes compromises the momentum of conversation, I have to qualms about doing it. This is how I envisioned myself in my universe. Why create a fictional reality if you won't excercise the unique advantage of participating in it?
I am about 600 years of age and am now on a campaign to help one of the friends I began this endless journey with discover the secrets of his past. Together we will face the odds of this hostile universe and learn what we must. But what will happen after then, if we succeed? Who knows! Though I doubt we'll be content to ignore it!
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