Gustavo Sala: Transition from Fanzines to Mass Media

Y vos empezaste a ser parte de esos eventos.

Yo me venía de Mar del Plata con un bolso con revistitas, y empiezo a conocer a Lucas Varela, a Salvador Sanz, empiezo a conocer al grupo de fanzineros. En Fantabaires, que era una especie de evento muy comercial, pero que tenía autores muy copados, había charlas, proyecciones, vino José Muñoz, Neil Gaiman, fue todo muy groso que se hicieran en Argentina esos eventos. Y de todos los stands comerciales, estaba el stand de los fanzines que todos pagábamos entre todos, estaban todas las revistitas, y ahí se armó como una comunidad. Se ganó un espacio. Yo venía desde Mar del Plata y fue todo un aprendizaje ver como todos dibujaban y jugaban a ser editores, y paralelamente uno trataba de dejar muestras de trabajos en editoriales para chicos, de manuales escolares, en revistas de cualquier cosa, y empiezan a aparecer trabajos muy chiquititos. Pero empiezo a trabajar con más regularidad en noviembre del 2005, cuando empiezo a laburar con el Suplemento No del diario Página 12, con continuidad en un diario grande de distribución nacional. Todos los jueves desde entonces. Empiezo a colaborar con la revista Genios haciendo juegos, pasatiempos, láminas, la historieta con Trillo y Maicas. Ahí es la primera vez que soy dibujante en un proyecto que no escribo.

Y todo empezó a ocurrir los últimos cinco años.

Claro, empiezan a aparecer después de remarla durante diez años con fanzines, de venir con el bolsito en el tren desde Mar del Plata, de dejar muestras, viviendo de lo que se podía, porque en un momento las cosas se acomodan y empezás a recoger los frutos de un montón de años… y sale lo de Genios, lo de Página 12, empiezo a colaborar en revistas como La Mano que fue muy importante durante un tiempo, después aparece la nueva versión de la Fierro en el 2006, empiezan a aparecer algunos trabajitos de publicidad, algunas cositas en algunas revistas más importantes, después aparece la Rolling Stone, fue todo apareciendo todo en un in crescendo, ahí se va armando una cosa más profesional de medios más grandes que se mantienen hasta hoy.

And you began to take part in these events?

I came from Mar del Plata with a bag of little magazines. I began to meet people like Lucas Varela, Salvador Sanz, the groups making fanzines. In Fantabaires, a very commercial event that had cool artists, there were talks, projections, stands. José Muñoz and Neil Gaiman came. It was pretty awesome that they hosted these events in Argentina. There was a fanzine stand that we paid for as a group where we displayed our magazines. We formed a community there. We earned a space. It was a learning experience to see how everyone else drew and played at being editors. At the same time, one tried to leave samples of one’s work at publishers of children’s books, schoolbook publishers, and any sort of magazine. And from this effort, I began to get small jobs.

I began working with more regularity in November 2005, when I began at the nationally distributed newspaper Página 12 working on the supplement “No” every Thursday. I began to collaborate with the magazine Genios creating games, puzzles, prints, and a comic with Carlos Trillo and Eduardo Maicas. That was the first time I was an illustrator for a project I didn’t write.

And all of this began happening in the last five years?

Of course. These opportunities began to appear after ten years of publishing my own fanzines, of bringing bags of comics on the train from Mar del Plata, leaving samples, living on what I could. In a second things accommodate and you begin to pick the fruit of many years. I got the job with Genios, Página 12; I began to collaborate with magazines like La Mano (which was very important for a time); then came the new version of Fierro in 2006; a few advertising jobs; small things in a few of the most important magazines like Rolling Stone. Everything appeared in crescendo, organizing into a more professional career with bigger media that has continued to this day.

The 90's, Sala and Suélteme

Sala signing books at the Feria del Libro

¿Cómo fueron los pasos para formar esa carrera?

Yo vivo en Mar del Plata, que está a 400 kilómetros de Buenos Aires que si bien está relativamente cerca -cinco horas de micro-, está lejos de toda la situación editorial, y las grandes revistas y todos los medios que ya desde los 90´s, cuando no había internet, se complicaba más la distancia. Y bueno, como el cien por cien de los dibujantes empecé como lector. Leyendo y comprando, y en un momento uno especula con la posibilidad de estar absorbidos por otros o de hacer vos las historietas que querés, y empezás haciendo tus propios personajes y copiando. Y cuando vas copiando, vas resolviendo lo que te da el cuero y durante muchos años viví con mis viejos laburando de lo que podía mientras dibujaba. Y trataba de hacer las cosas muy en el under, muy de hobby. En el 96 hice una revistita fotocopiada, un fanzine autoeditado que se llamaba Falsa Modestia, donde ya estaba el humor inspirado por la revista Mad, o por dibujos como Ren & Stimpy y por toda una generación de cosas que eran más de sátira. Acá hubo una revista que fue muy determinante en influyente que se llamó Suélteme, una revista que estaba a mitad de camino entre el fanzine y la revista profesional, porque era una revista editada por una lista de autores ya consagrados en el humor de los 90s como Esteban Podetti, Diego Parés, Dani the O, Pablo Sapia, Darío Adanti. Hicieron una revista que tuvo una circulación por kioscos, pero estaba editada por ellos mismos, o sea que era una cosa de absoluta irregularidad, salieron cinco números pero fue una joya esa revista. Yo no llegué a publicar, pero era fanático de esa revista. En Suélteme publicó Liniers por primera vez, antes de firmar como Liniers. El también era fanático de una revista que lideró una escena, cuando no había ninguna revista grande a la que uno pudiera aspirar a publicar. Hoy es completamente diferente la situación. Estoy hablando del año 96, 97. Al no haber ninguna Fierro, ninguna Skorpio, un montón de autores en el país empezaron a hacer nuestras propias revistitas. Y ahí Salvador Sanz, Lucas Varela, Fede Pazos, Ángel Mosquito, Agrimbau, Rovella, un montón de tipos que ahora son importantes, todos al mismo tiempo empezamos a hacer revistitas y empezaron a haber eventos de historietas.

What were the steps that you took to form your career?

I live in Mar del Plata, 400 kilometers from Buenos Aires. While it’s relatively close (five hours by bus), it’s far from the publishing scene and the big magazines and all the media. In the 90’s, when there wasn’t Internet, the distance was more difficult. I began as a reader, like 100% of illustrators. Buying and reading, and in a moment one thinks about the possibility of being absorbed by others or making the comics you want, and you start making your own characters and copying. And when you’re copying, you go along finding out what gives it live. For many years I lived with my parents, working what I could while I drew. I tried to do things with an underground, hobby-like style. In 1996 I made a photocopied magazine, a self-published fanzine called Falsa Modestia whose humor was inspired by Mad Magazine, drawings like Ren and Stimpy, and a generation’s worth of things that were satire.

There was a very influential magazine called Suélteme that was halfway between a fanzine and a professional magazine. It was published by a list of 90’s humor gods, like Esteban Podetti, Diego Parés, Dani the O, Pablo Sapia, Darío Adanti. They made a magazine that was circulated in kiosks, but it was self-published by that group. I mean, it was a complete anomaly. Only five issues came out, but the magazine was a jem. I didn’t get to publish, but I was fanatical about the magazine. Liniers published in that magazine for the first time, before signing as “Liniers.” He was also a fan of the magazine that led a scene, when there were no big magazines where one could aspire to publish. Today the situation is completely different. I’m talking about ’96, ’97. Because there was no Fierro, no Skorpio, a bunch of authors in Argentina began to make their own magazine. And from there Salvador Sanz, Lucas Varela, Fede Pazos, Ángel Mosquito, Agrimbau, Rovella, a bunch of guys that are now important, all at the same time began to make small magazine and events around comics began to happen.

Interview with Gustavo Sala

After deliberating for a few weeks, I’ve decided to post another set of interviews, this time with Gustavo Sala. Although I’ve done a bunch of awesome interviews, Sala’s was extremely relevant to my project (also ONLY 9 pages long!). This interview was conducted on September 28, 2011. I began by explaining my project, then Sala responded generally:

Gustavo Sala: Bueno, yo puedo decir que tengo la suerte de vivir de la historieta, y además del humor gráfico. Porque no me considero tanto un historietista sino un humorista gráfico, porque la mayoría de mi trabajo tiene que ver con tiras, historietas de pequeño formato, viñetas, aunque he hecho historietas de no más de tres o cuatro páginas, me cuesta mucho el formato largo. Pero puedo y vivo del dibujo de la historieta, sumando un montón de pequeños medios que todos juntos hacen algo parecido a un sueldo, que me permiten pagarme el alquiler, moverme, comer y hacer algunos viajes - la mayoría de ellos invitaciones cuyos pasajes no pago yo, entonces eso permite que los pueda hacer con mucha más facilidad – y eso es una buena noticia. Porque es dibujar es mi trabajo, y es bastante flexible, porque entre todos los trabajos puedo colaborar con amigos o con revistas independientes u otras cosas, manteniendo las publicaciones formales que son las que me permiten vivir y tener proyectos al margen de eso. La revista Genios donde hago cosas para chicos, la Rolling Stone, la Fierro, la revista Barcelona, en Página 12 –desde hace seis años-; todo eso junto me permite vivir, pero mientras siga teniendo todo eso. Ahora a partir del mes que viene, en la revista erótica Hombre voy a tener una página de humor. Además todos estos son medios que me dan mucha libertad para trabajar. Entonces estoy como malcriado, con mucha soltura y libertad trabajando con los temas que me divierten, el humor negro y el absurdo, esa cosa guarra o más incorrectas, lo ácido; me cuesta pensar en términos de trabajo porque me divierto mucho.

Gustavo Sala: I’ve been lucky enough to make a living off of comics as well as graphic humor. I don’t consider myself as much a comics artist as a graphic humorist because the majority of my work has to do with comic strips, small format comics, vignettes. Even though I’ve done comics of no more than three or four pages, the longer format is hard for me. But I can make a living off of drawing, adding up a bunch of small jobs that make up something like a salary. It allows me to pay the rent, move around, eat and go on some trips. The majority of trips are by invitation and I don’t pay for the passage, so I can go on these trips more easily. That’s good news. Drawing is my job, and it’s pretty flexible, because between jobs I can collaborate with friends or independent magazines or other things, maintaining the formal publications that allow me to live and have projects on the side. Genios magazine for kids, Rolling Stone, Fierro, Barcelona, Página 12 (for six years)— together, all of these jobs provides a living, but only while I keep all of them. From next month onward, I’m going to have a humor page in the erotic magazine Hombres. Also, all of these mediums give me a lot of artistic freedom. So I’m like a brat, with a lot of slackness and freedom to work on the subjects that amuse me—black humor and the absurd, the dirty and the offensive, the acid. It’s hard for me to think in terms of work because I have a lot of fun.

The Last Part of the Diego Agrimbau Interviews

¿Cómo conocés a tus amigos en general, y en especial historietistas?

Muchos de mis amigos son del secundario, la mayoría. Con Dante nos conocemos desde el colegio secundario, de donde también me han quedado muchos otros amigos que sigo viendo. Y a los historietistas los conozco de los eventos, de las revistas y experiencias que compartimos. En otra época éramos muy amigos con los chicos de La Productora, salíamos juntos todos los sábados a la noche. Conocimos a nuestras actuales mujeres en aquellos años. Pasamos juntos varios años muy divertidos y salvajes. Después fui sumando amigos en los años más recientes como Lucas Varela o Pablo Túnica, los autoproclamados “Dandys de Belgrano”. Y mantengo una estrecha amistad con los dibujantes con los que trabajo, claro, como Gabriel Ippóliti, Pietro o Baldó.

¿Pensaste en tener otra carrera?

Estrella de rock. No pierdo esperanza. Y antes en realidad tenía ganas de hacer publicidad, hasta que la hice y me pareció espantoso. A los veintidós decidí que la historieta era más que un placer.

¿Cómo es la relación entre Laura y vos, trabajando en cosas parecidas?

Tratamos de no trabajar juntos. Poder separarnos un momento en el día y poder volver y poder decir “hola querida” es mejor que estar veinticuatro horas seguidas juntos, porque es complicado. Antes vivíamos en un lugar más chico y trabajar pegados se hacía difícil. Ahora que estamos en esta casa tan grande, ella se pone en una punta, yo en la otra y tratamos de no cruzarnos.

Claro que nuestros trabajos se potencian. Compartimos datos, contactos, experiencias, viajes. Tenemos mucha sinergia con lo que consigue uno y el otro. Después en una época yo le mandaba los guiones para que me los corrija o critique, y ella me daba sus tesis o artículos. Eso lo hacemos cada vez menos. Hay épocas en las que necesitamos más espacio y que ella no se entere qué historieta estoy haciendo y yo ni sé qué está escribiendo ella. A veces es mejor que la relación fluya por cosas cotidianas, de pareja y no por lo profesional.

¿Tenés un plan para los próximos años?

En este país no se puede planear de forma muy concreta, por ahí de acá a un año pierde Cristina las elecciones y hay que tirar todos los planes al tacho; entonces se planifica siempre muy a trazo grueso. Sé que tengo que terminar el viaje, ver qué perspectiva se abre a partir del viaje, porque dependiendo mucho de eso, cambian los planes. Yo siempre después de un par de semanas afuera volvía con un montón de ideas, trabajo, cosas cambiadas y trabajaba un año en algo que se había gestado en un mes. Ahora me voy cuatro. Por ahí no pasa nada, por ahí sí, no tengo idea. Mi plan de por sí es seguir avanzando en Francia y en el mercado europeo en general, hacer el libro con Lucas, ver qué pasa con ese libro, hacer algún contrato más de los proyectos que tengo, y apuntalarme dos o tres años más en Francia. Sumar experiencia. Luego me gustaría hacer un serial en Estados Unidos, esto muy a largo plazo. O también Italia. Son muy a grandes rasgos los planes. En Argentina nunca podés planificar, acá somos muy famosos por improvisar. Para bien o mal, es así.

How did you meet your friends in general, especially in the comics community?

A lot of my friends are from high school, the majority. Dante Ginevra and I have known each other since high school, where I have a lot of other friends that I still see. And the comics people I know from events, from magazines, and experiences we share. In another era, we were very good friends with the guys from the Productora, we went out every Saturday night. We met our spouses in these years. We passed a bunch of wild and fun years together. In recent years, I’ve made new friends like Lucas Varela and Pablo Tunica, the self-proclaimed “Dandies of Belgrano.” And, of course, I maintain a close friendship with the artists I work with, like Gabriel Ippóliti, Pietro and Baldó.

Have you thought about following another career?

Rock star. I’m not hopeful. Realistically, I wanted to do publicity until I did and it seemed terrible to me. At 22 I decided that writing comics was more than just a pleasure.

What is the relationship like between you and Laura [Vazquez, his wife], working on such similar things?

We try not to work together. Being separated for part of the day, returning, and saying “hi honey” is better than staying together for 24 hours in a row, because that’s complicated. We lived in a smaller place before and working next to each other was difficult. Now we’re in a bigger place and she goes to one end and I go to another and we try not to cross paths.

Of course our work is mutually beneficial. We share information, contacts, experiences, trips. We have a lot of synergy with what the other accomplishes. For a while, I gave her scripts so she could correct or criticize them, and she gave me her thesis or articles. We’re doing this less and less. There are times we need more space and she doesn’t know what comic I’m working on and I don’t know what she’s writing. Sometimes it’s better that the relationship deals with daily life, couple life, and not the professional.

Do you have a plan for the next few years?

In this country, you can’t plan in a very concrete way. Maybe in a year Cristina Kirchner will lose the elections and we’ll have to throw away all our plans. So one always plans very generally. I know that I have to finish the trip [to France], see what perspective opens because of the trip, it depends a lot on this, plans change. After a few weeks abroad I always come back with a bunch of ideas, work, changes and I work for a year on something that was developed in a month. Now I’m going for four. Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe it will. I have no idea. My plan is to continue advancing in France and in the European market in general, make the book with Lucas, see what happens with this book, get another contract from the projects I have and shore up another two or three years in France. Add up experience. Later I would like to do a serial in the United States, but this in the long run. Or also Italy. These are very long term plans. In Argentina you can’t plan. We’re very famous for improvising here. For good or bad, that’s how it is.

Transcription by Santiago Slaby. Translation by Claire Denton-Spalding.

Diego Agrimbau on publishing in Fierro

¿E intentaste publicar muchas veces en Fierro?

Y publico en la Fierro. En la Fierro tuve bastantes desencuentros. Yo me entero de la Fierro antes que saliera, y ya empezamos a mandar cosas. Logramos publicar en el número 4. Ya les había llevado Bertold, pero me dijeron que no era para la Fierro, y creo que tenían razón. Entonces hicimos una historieta que salió en el 4. Entonces pensé erróneamente que si publiqué ésta, voy a publicar más. No. Ippóliti no quizo seguir haciendo cosas para la Fierro porque el pago no era el mismo que en Europa, entonces me empecé a contactar con varios dibujantes. Pasaban los números y no pasaba nada. En ese momento estaba trabajando con Totino Tedesco haciendo porno. Y le digo que estoy cansado de hacer eso, entonces se los presento a los de la Fierro. Y mandamos Vida y Obra de Simón Cortinas, que finalmente la aceptaron. Pero para entonces la Fierro ya andaba por el número 23 de Fierro. Luego escribí algunas críticas a la Fierro en mi blog, sin sospechar que me traerían varios problemas con colegas a los que admiro mucho. Tiempo después, le pidieron una historia corta a Lucas Varela. Entonces le paso el guión de Afasia, que fue muy bien recibida, por suerte. Y volvimos a colaborar juntos casi un año más tarde, con Claustrofobia. Hasta que en el año 2010 me escribe Lautaro (Ortíz) para decirme que iba a haber una reunión de guionistas de la Fierro -¿qué me va a llamar a mí que publiqué cuatro historietas?- a la que voy y están Sasturain (el director), Lautaro, Trillo y Pablo de Santis. Me dicen que quieren relanzar la Fierro con mayor preponderancia de las historias.

Y ahí empiezan las series que salieron en diciembre, Cielo Alto que hago yo, Tristeza de Reggiani, Justicia Poética de de Santis, Sasha de Trillo… ahora hago una con Pietro que es un gran dibujante medio perdido en el panorama actual… Así que finalmente pude hacer una serie en la Fierro.

Have you tried to publish in the magazine Fierro many times?

I publish in Fierro. I’ve had quite a few disagreements with Fierro. I found out about Fierro before it came out and I started sending things. We were able to get published in the 4^th issue. I’d already brought them Bertold, but they said it wasn’t for Fierro. I think they were right. So we made a comic that came out in the 4^th issue. So I thought erroneously that if I published this, I would publish more. No. Ippóliti didn’t want to keep on doing thins for Fierro because the pay wasn’t the same as in Europe, so I began to contact other artists. The issues passed and nothing happened. In this moment I was working with Totino Tedesco making porn. And I said I was tired of doing that, so we presented ourselves to Fierro. We sent “The Life and Work of Simón Cortinas,” which they finally accepted. Fierro was going on issue 23. Later I wrote some critiques of Fierro on my blogs, without suspecting that they would bring problems with colleagues I very much admire. A while later, they asked for a short comic from Lucas Varela. So I passed him the script for “Aphasia,” which, luckily, was very well received. And we collaborated again almost a year later, with “Claustrophobia.” Until, in 2010, Lautaro [Ortiz] wrote me to tell me that there was going to be a meeting of writers at Fierro—why would he call me, who’s only published four comics? I went and Sasturain (the director), Lautaro, Trillo and Pablo de Santis were there. They told me that they wanted to re-launch Fierro with a greater prevalence of stories. And from there started the series that came out in December, “Cielo Alto” that I write, “Tristeza” by Reggiani, “Justicia Poética” by de Santis, “Sasha” by Trillo…now I’m doing one with Pietro who is a great artist sort of lost in the present scene…so I was finally able to do a series in Fierro.

Agrimbau answers, "What was it like publishing in Argentina after publishing in France?"

¿Cómo fue publicar en Argentina después de Francia?

En Argentina empezamos a publicar más seguido desde la etapa auto-gestión, primero con El Asco, que salió primero en Historietas Reales (en el sitio en su etapa anterior: historietasreales.blogspot.com), tuvo mucho suceso y fue muy importante. Recibía cincuenta comentarios por página subida y recibía mails de un montón gente que seguía la historia. Me decían “yo soy fan del Asco”. En el pico de popularidad de Historietas Reales –salía en los medios, en varios lugares-, eso coincidió con la aparición de las nuevas editoriales que salían por todos lados. Y detrás de todas ellas está el mismo financista. Un tipo con mucha plata que empezó a poner plata en editoriales diferentes para sacar historietas, siendo el mismo tipo. Después te cuento por qué. De esa oleada caímos varios de los de Historietas Reales, como era algo popular de lo que se estaba hablando. Empezó saliendo Max Aguirre, después Mosquito, después salió el Asco. Al final publicaron prácticamente todos. Cuando estaban saliendo esos libros, estaban los premios “Papa Fina”, de la revista Comiqueando, que era la única publicación temática de acá. Y El Asco ganó a mejor libro del año en la categoría drama. Al ser un premio no muy importante, estaba bueno, porque era lo único que había. Y tiempo después tuve muchas ofertas para sacar La Burbuja de Bertold, pero finalmente accedimos a hacerlo a través de Historieteca, ya que era la editorial que más garantías me daba para que no aparecieran saldos por España, ya que eso podía traer conflictos contractuales.

Y después publiqué Campito, que es una historieta que venimos haciendo desde los noventa; era una historia muy sencilla, y muy vieja, data del 98. El dibujante tardó mucho tiempo en dibujarlo, como diez años para hacer 44 páginas. “Che, no voy a poder seguir la historieta” – Me dice cuando va por la página 35. “¿Por qué?” “Porque me voy a hacer una carrera universitaria”. Y cuando termina la carrera universitaria la siguió. ¡Eso es planificación! Pero lo terminó y lo publicamos en octubre.

What was it like publishing in Argentina after publishing in France?

We began to publish more regularly in Argentina after the self-publishing era, first with El Asco, which first came out in Historietas Reales (in the first site: historietasreales.blogspot.com), it had a lot of success and was very important. It would receive fifty commentaries per page uploaded and I received emails from a bunch of people that followed the comic. They said, “I’m a fan of The Asco.” The climax of Historietas Reales’ popularity- in the media, in various places—coincided with the appearance of new publishing companies that emerged everywhere. And the same financier was behind all of them. A guy with a lot of cash started to put money into a bunch of different editorials to make comics. I’ll tell you why later. The members of Historietas Reales rode this wave; it was something popular that was being talked about. Max Aguirre came out first, then Mosquito, El Asco came out afterwards. Finally, they published nearly all of us. When the books were coming out, the magazine Comiqueando (the only thematic publication here) had the “Papa Fina” prizes. El Asco won best book of the year in the drama category. Even though it wasn’t a very important prize, it was good because it was the only one that existed. A little while later I had offers to publish La Burbuja de Bertold, but we finally agreed to do it through Historieteca because it was the publisher that gave me the best guarantee that the book wouldn’t appear discounted in Spain, which can bring contractual conflicts.

Agrimbau answers "How did you create a career making comics?"

¿Cómo formaste una carrera haciendo historietas?

Lo que es hacer historieta empecé en el colegio a los quince años, hacía fanzines con Dante Ginevra. Era un colegio de dibujo, yo estudié dibujo como seis años. Pasamos todos los noventas hasta el 2001 de forma independiente, con gente como Mosquito, Salvador Sanz, Lucas Varela. Todos éramos fanzineros. No es que éramos independientes porque había una contraparte mainstream, sólo había comics independientes. Hasta que en 1999 empecé a trabajar como creativo publicitario en una agencia. Era muy poco glamoroso, trabajaba en una cocina. Después cambiamos de lugar, y seguí hasta el 2004. Y yo en el 2003 había empezado a cobrar plata por hacer historieta erótica y por la Burbuja de Bertold. Y mientras trabajaba como creativo publicitario. Y en el 2003 con Dante dejamos la Productora -lugar que compartimos con Mosquito, Mallea y otros- ante la posibilidad de trabajar para editoriales grandes. De ahí en más en el 2005 dejo la publicidad para dedicarme de lleno a la historieta. Fue terrible. Trabajaba en casa. Yo esperaba que los libros como Bertold se encadenaran fácilmente, y no fue así. No había mucho más trabajo. Hacía mucho porno porque daba plata. Así que a mitad de año decidí que tenía que hacer los talleres porque no había manera de vivir de la historieta. Y de poco la cosa fue mejorando, y en el 2006 me puse el estudio, primero con Dante, después con Fernando. Ahí empecé a considerarme un profesional de la historieta. Sabía que era un riesgo dejar la publicidad, pero pensé que iba a ser más fácil después de Bertold. Y costó bastante, pero en eso siempre me ayudó mucho Laura. Ella me ayuda a tomar la decisión y me dice “arriesgate, que si de última sale todo mal, de hambre no te vas a morir”. El primer año nomás fue el más difícil. Después mejoró la situación. Claro que no te podés relajar del todo, nunca sabés si el año que viene vas a tener algo para hacer o no.

How did you create a career making comics?

I began making fanzines in high school with Dante Ginevra when I was fifteen. It was an arts high school and I studied drawing for six years. We passed the 90’s until 2001 independently, with people like [Angel] Mosquito, Salvador Sanz, Lucas Varela. We were all fanziners. It’s not that we were independent because there was an opposing mainstream. There were only independent comics. In 1999 I began to work as an advertising creative in an advertising agency. It was not very glamorous, I worked in a kitchen. Later we moved and I stayed there until 2004. In 2003 I began getting paid to write erotic comics and for Burbuja de Bertold (Bertold’s Bubble). And during that time I worked as an advertising creative. In 2003 I left the Productora with Dante—a group we shared with Mosquito, Mallea and others—for the possibility of working for large publishing companies. From there, in 2005 I left publicity to dedicate myself completely to comics. It was terrible. I worked at home. I had hoped that books like Bertold would line up easily, and it didn’t happen like that. There wasn’t much work. I did a lot of porno because it paid. So in the middle of the year, I decided that I needed to do the classes because there wasn’t a way to live from comics. And bit-by-bit things got better and in 2006 I got the studio, first with Dante and then with Fernando. From there I began to think of myself as a professional. I knew it was a risk to leave publicity, but I thought it would be easier after Bertold. And it was tough, but my [wife] Laura always helped me. She helped me make the decision and told me, “Take a risk. If everything turns out badly you won’t die of hunger.” The first year was the most difficult. The situation got better after that. Of course you can’t relax completely. You never know if you are going to have something to do the next year or not.

Marv and Me: Encounters and Translation in the Feria del Libro Infantil y Juvenil

During one of my posts in May, I described the Feria del Libro as being a sort of hell that was hot and crowded with sloth-like browsers. If I remember my Dante, there are distinct levels of hell, and The Feria del Libro Infantil y Juvenil was on another, deeper level.* The waves of children reaching up to my ribs moved faster than the elderly at the Feria del Libro, but were more unpredictable, stopping dead in the middle of the passage way without warning. So, after navigating the crowds on the first day, I was looking forward to sitting in a dark room and listening to the Marv Wolfman chat. But, no such luck. Just as I arrived and was about to go wait in the line, Andrés Accorsi, the director for the comics section of the Feria del Libro Infantil y Juvenil (see previous posts), approached me and said, “I’m glad you’re here. You can help with the translation.” Seeing my wide-eyed, horror-stricken face, he reminded me that I had offered to help him with the fair numerous times. Realizing that not only I had offered to help, but that he had previously warned me that it was a dangerous offer, I really had no one to blame but my overzealous self.

Too shocked to be scared, I went up to the stage and met Marv Wolfman, an amiable guy with a big smile and an amazing 1980’s sweater. (I later found out that he owns many of these sweaters in different colors.) Wolfman has created comics in the United States since the 1960’s and some of his contributions have laid the foundation for the modern comic book industry. He’s written comics (The Teen Titans and Tomb of Dracula) as well as scripts for animation and video games. Andrés explained that I would be translating his and the audience’s questions from Spanish to English for Marv. Essentially, it was a timesaving measure.

The only picture where I don't look terrified, taken from the El Blogazo del Comic blog

The doors were opened and the die-hard fans rushed to get seats in the front. I went up on the stage to sit next to Wolfman. Translating the questions that Andrés posed was pretty easy. I’ve seen his translation style before in Crack Bang Boom and he made eye contact with me when he was asking a question. I wouldn’t translate every word of the question, but synthesize it and come up with the essence of the question. Problems arose when the audience asked questions. First of all, I couldn’t hear anything because an infernal children’s performance across the hall played music at a heavy metal concert’s volume. Second of all, the crowd was filled with fanatics of American comics with very specific questions. Sometimes I could translate the question, but I gave Andrés the “I-have-no-idea-what-they-just-said” look more than once when I didn’t understand a specific reference. Even the next day, after reading about Wolfman’s career for a few hours, I was unable to make sense of some of the meticulous questions. I guess the man’s been in business for about half a century, so naturally I wouldn’t know everything he’s done after only a few hours of research. I probably should have been more embarrassed by my lack of comics knowledge, but anyone that has met me knows that I don’t read many superhero comics.

On the first day of the lecture series, Wolfman talked about his work in videogames and animation, and movies based on his comics. The second day, he talked about comics. Some of the most interesting topics he discussed were the role of comics shops and the format of the comic book. Comics shops, he suggested, should de-specialize to include games and toys and should also provide a place for people to gather for events. This would draw people in and make them stay, instead of just entering to pick up their comics. I recently interviewed Rodrigo Díaz from the publishing company/store Mobius and he talked about a similar idea—the comic store as a space for diverse groups of people. Moebius (located at Bulnes 658) has jewelry, stuffed animals, posters and diaries as well as comics. Because of this diversity, the store is attractive to different groups of people, not only those interested in comics.

Wolfman also criticized the current “pamphlet” format of the comic, suggesting a future online format to be viewed on the computer or ipad. Collector’s editions would be the only printed comics. In a continued conversation later that night (Marv and his wife took Andrés and me out to eat to thank us) he mentioned his intentional use of the word “pamphlet” to insult, marking his negative feelings about the flimsy nature of the 26 page books.

It was fascinating to be able to meet with someone who has lived through comics history in the United States from the Comics Code to the comics bubble and burst in the 1990’s. His experiences spans decades and the many ups and downs the industry has faced. After having learned so much about Argentine comics history through oral interviews and classes, it was interesting to hear the similar experiences of an American creator.

*Note: I love and support book fairs! I just get really stressed in large, hot spaces with many people. Book fairs should exist, I should just never go to them.

Marv, answering a question.

Me, unable to keep my face still for .05 seconds.

Video taken by El Blogazo del Comic.

Interview with Lucas Varela, now in English!

So I finally translated the interview with Lucas Varela into English. As you read this, please remember that I have NEVER taken a translation class and that I was an economics major at college. If the translation is choppy and weird, that is probably the reason. I received some help translating the Argentine slang from my friend Santiago.

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Claire D-S: How did you start making comics?

Lucas Varela: I started in the underground in the 90’s, before the Internet existed. This moment was the high point of the underground or the independent comics scene. There were a lot of comics. There wasn’t, however, a professional space. It was very difficult to develop professionally because all the magazines and publishers were closing. It was the end of an era. There were only independent magazines. This is when I began Kapop, my self-edited magazine.

CDS: Did someone invite you to participate in the underground movement?

LV: It went like this: a professional youngster went with his portfolio to underground comics events and showed it to the first person who would look at it. I went to one of these events with my amateur, embarrassing comics and people at a magazine called Poco Loco liked my work. I began to publish there immediately. After wandering through various underground magazines, I decided to self-publish a magazine with Robert Barriero, a good friend and writer. The magazine was called Kapop and had a run of six issues. A little bit later, with a more developed hand, I approached Carlos Trillo and began my professional career around 2000.

CDS: How did you meet each other?

LV: We found out that he liked Kapop and went to visit him in his studio one day. Trillo was a really open-minded, easygoing, and friendly. We got along well and subsequently created The Scarlet Horn, our first project together.

CDS: You do illustration, but for what magazines? How many illustrations do you do a week?

LV: I work for an agency with many talented illustrators called “Dutch Uncle” in London. It’s nice working with them because I can avoid interacting with editors and clients. I think this is the best possible option. They mainly give me work from magazines, newspapers like The Guardian, and Gulf Life, a magazine for an airline in the Persian Gulf. Weird things. It’s comfortable working with them.

CDS: What’s the process you go through to receive an order?

LV: They tell me, “I have this to illustrate. You can do it.” Generally, they give me from two weeks to a month to do an illustration. I contently take all that they throw at me. Because they are English, they greatly enjoy the touch of dark humor that I add in my drawings. I think that I am returning a bit of what I learned from English comedians. “Monty Python” was a great influence.

CDS: How did you begin to work with them?

LV: All through email. I got their contact information from Christian Montenegro, an argentine illustrator that worked with them. I wrote them and they didn’t respond for six months. Suddenly, they requested an illustration because they needed something in “comic style.” That’s how I hooked them. The idea of “comic style” is very curious. I don’t think there is a comic style. Comics have so many styles that are so different that it is impossible to bring them together in one. There is something in society’s mindset that the comic has a particular style—happy, dynamic, and colorful. But it’s not like that. Later they saw that I had a wide range of styles and began to give me more work.

CDS: How many offers do you accept per week?

LV: I draw a weekly illustration for the newspaper Financial Times and will do another if I have enough time. There are weeks where I only do the illustration for the Financial Times and nothing else. It depends.

CDS: Can you survive on just a few drawings a week?

LV: I made more money working at Clarín, like a slave, doing layout. Going to work every day from this hour to that hour. But I got tired, I got burnt out. I worked like that for six years. I really wanted to draw. The thing I took away from working at a newspaper was the practice and the speed that you get from working like that. You have to resolve everything immediately.

CDS: What is the publishing process like for comics?

LV: Publishing is very complicated. Especially here because the editors are very dishonest. They don’t pay you or report earnings. You have to be careful to avoid the crooks. I published with a few like Moebius that, if they are a small publishing company, are pretty cool. One of the valued I look for when I work with a small publishing company are good vibes. They published Matabicho. But my previous book, Estupefacto, was published by a fraudulent company that never reported my earnings. It was a disaster. It ended up on sale. In Spain, Paolo Pinocchio was just published by the publishing house Dibbuks. They are pretty serious and generate much trust. They had previously published The Coronel’s Heritage, the Spanish name for The Gustavino Syndrome [the Argentine title]. I hope that they do well with the book. Then there’s the Fierro. It’s good to publish in the Fierro. The comics that are published there have a lot of repercussion because the people all over the country see it. They pay a minimal amount, but I take it as one more entrance to publishing comics. We did this with The Gustavino Syndrome. First it was published in the Fierro and then it was published as a book. That’s how you manage to alleviate the huge effort it takes to create a comic.

In Argentina there aren’t many places to publish comics. Generally you manage to assemble a network where you more or less know everyone that publishes, but it’s very limited. Then, internationally I don’t have many doors open. Now you begin the publishing process in the Fierro and afterwards see which publishing companies want to publish the material that’s already been created. There are also the newspapers that very rarely offer space for comics. I published a page in La Nación’s Sunday magazine for one year and then published in Clarin’s Viva magazine for another. But I got burnt out after awhile.