Paintings and Personajes

Lucas Varela, it turns out, is not only an illustrator, but a painter as well. He has been painting for years and, coincidentally, had a gallery show with artist Mariano Vior* the day after our interview. During the interview, he told me that he was a better illustrator than painter, and joked that he purchased six cases of wine to make the audience more partial to the paintings. I imagine that the transition between illustration and painting must be difficult. The creation process is entirely different, transformed by new materials, ways of holding your body, and distinctive methods of telling a story. And then, there’s the question of overlap: do you bring your favorite characters with you to the new medium or do you create new ones? Varela’s paintings featured a fascinating mix of creatures.

Una Aflicción (An affliction)

Bobas en Disputa (Arguing Fools)

The bobas (fools) are a new addition to Varela’s repertoire. Their pained, aggressive positions are terrifying. “The Affliction” is equally frightening. After looking at these paintings, I want to know more about these women. Varela’s ability to arouse the viewer’s curiosity is indicative of his skill as an artist and narrator.

Gusano 1 (Worm 1)

La congoja (The Anguished One), Gusano 2 (Worm 2),

Jóven yaciente (Young person lying down)

Varela brought the worms from his comics to canvas. In an open interview for Fierro magazine, a reader asked, “Why do you draw strange worms everywhere?” Varela responded, “You’ll get to meet these worms that I draw. They are the worms that are going to eat you when you die.”

(A brief aside: I sent the link to "Worm 1" to my sister Grace. She apparently hates worms, and the sight of one vomiting almost made her sick. A few minutes later, I forgot all about our conversation and sent her a comic with worms in it. I am probably the worst older sister ever.)

Sans Jorge (Without George)

Saint George Killing the Dragon (1430-5) by Bernat Martorell

“San Jorge” attracted my attention because I saw “Saint George Killing the Dragon” (1430-5) at the Art Institute of Chicago. The Martorell painting puts the small dragon in an inferior position at the bottom of the painting, focusing all the attention on Saint George in the middle. Varela’s rendition of this classic story, in contrast, shows only the dragon’s death, not the hero or his brave deed, thus the name "Without George." Depicting the gory and solitary death of the dragon causes the viewer to feel connected to the monster and reinvents the story by taking the underdog’s point of view.

Varela and Vior's paintings are exhibited in La Serpa, a gallery on Julián Alvarez 425. As you can probably guess from this post, I highly recommend going.

*Mariano Vior is an incredible artist. I did not write about him in this post, because I wanted to focus on Varela's paintings. But you should check out Vior's blog to see his paintings and drawings.

Pictures taken by Lucas Varela

Translation

I am, at this moment, attempting to translate the interview with Lucas Varela into English. Hopefully, I will emerge with my life and ability to speak English intact.

Interview with Lucas Varela

Lucas Varela, in front of a few of the many bookshelves he has filled with comics

As I’ve mentioned quite a few times on this blog, Lucas Varela is one of my favorite artists. I read “Paolo Pinocchio” in the Fierro when I was studying abroad here in 2009 and Estupefacto was one of the first comics I bought when I returned this year. So, although we now know each other, I was pretty excited for the interview.

In terms of interview questions, I am still trying to find the perfect set that reveal the daily decisions artists face. I have five pages of questions ranging from basic (where do you live?) to personal questions (are you married?). Leading up to the interview, I was a bit nervous because it was my second interview, but then Lucas handed me a beer and I realized we were just going to have a conversation…a taped conversation.

Lucas began the interview by claiming that he didn’t talk much, but the interview ended up lasting almost two hours. Although I have almost finished a full transcription of this interview, I won’t be posting all of it just yet. And I am going to leave the interviews in Spanish. Transcribing is a soul-sucking job, so translation to English would probably kill me. During the interview, we covered multiple topics including his childhood, plans for retirement, upcoming trip to France, and life goals. The excerpts from the interview below deal with Varela’s involvement in the comics underground in the 90’s, his work as an illustrator, and his experiences with publishing.

Anyway, this is part of the beginning of the interview.

CDS: ¿Cómo empezaste a hacer comics?

LV: Comencé en el under, en los años 90, cuando no había Internet todavía. Ese momento era el auge de las revistas under o independientes de historieta. Había una cantidad enorme. Lo que no había era espacio profesional. Era muy difícil desarrollarse profesionalmente porque estaban cerrando todas las revistas y editoriales. Estaba terminando una época. Solo había revistas independientes. Ahí es cuando comencé con mi emprendimiento autoeditado, llamado Kapop.

CDS: ¿Cómo fue tu ingreso en el movimiento under?

LV: Fue así: el profesional jovenzuelo iba con su carpeta a los eventos de revistas under y la mostraba al primero que podía. Yo fui a uno de esos eventos con mis historietas amateur muy feas, que hoy me da vergüenza mostrar, y a los de una revista que se llamaba "Poco Loco" les gustó mi trabajo. En seguida empecé a publicar ahí. Después de deambular en varias revistas under, decidimos hacer nuestra propia revista junto a Roberto Barreiro, un gran amigo y guionista. La revista se llamó Kapop y tuvo una extensión de seis números. Un poco más tarde, ya con la mano más ágil, me acerqué a Carlos Trillo y ahí comencé mi carrera más profesional, alrededor del 2000.

CDS: ¿Y ustedes, como se conocieron?

LV: Nos enteramos de que a él le gustaba la revista Kapop y un día fuimos a visitarlo a su estudio. Trillo era una persona muy abierta, muy fácil de tratar, muy ameno. Así que pegamos buena onda y enseguida empezamos hacer nuestro primer proyecto llamado "El Cuerno Escarlata".

CDS: Haces ilustración, pero ¿para cuales revistas y cuantas ilustraciones hacés por semana?

LV: Trabajo para una agencia de ilustradores muy buena que se llama "Dutch Uncle" que está en Londres. Es buenísimo trabajar para ellos porque me evito hablar con editores y clientes. Creo que es el modo ideal. Ellos me pasan trabajos sobre todo para el mundo editorial. Revistas, diarios como The Guardian, para Gulf Life, que es una revista para una compañía aérea del Golfo Persico. Cosas rarísimas. Es cómodo trabajar con ellos.

CDS: ¿Cómo es el proceso de recibir un pedido?

LV: [Me dicen] “Lo podés hacer. Tengo esto para ilustrar.” Generalmente me dan de una semana a dos días para hacerlo. Yo contentísimo agarro todo lo que me tiran. Al parecer los clientes ingleses se divierten mucho con la pizca de humor negro que agrego en mis dibujos. Yo creo que estoy devolviendo lo que me enseñaron los cómicos ingleses "Monthy Python", gran influencia para mi.

CDS: ¿Cómo empezaste a trabajar con ellos?

LV: Todo por mail. Me pasó el contacto un dibujante argentino que trabaja con ellos que se llama Cristian Montenegro. Les escribí y no me llamaron por seis meses. Luego, de golpe me pidieron un dibujo porque necesitaban un estilo comic. Por ahí los enganché. Esto del estilo comic es muy curioso. Yo creo que no hay un estilo comic. El comic tiene tantos estilos y tan diferentes que es imposible unificarlo. Hay algo en el imaginario social que el comic tiene un estilo particular, como alegre, dinámico y colorido. Pero no es así. Después vieron que yo tenía un amplio abanico de estilos y posibilidades y empezaron a darme más trabajos.

CDS: ¿Cuántos pedidos aceptas cada semana?

LV: Hago una sección fija para el diario Financial Times cada semana y después hago alguna que otra más con tiempo. Hay semanas que solo hago el dibujo para Financial Times y no otra cosa. Depende.

CDS: ¿Puedes sobrevivir viviendo así?

LV: Ganaba más plata trabajando en Clarín, de esclavo, haciendo infografías. Yendo a la redacción todos los días, de tal hora a tal hora. Pero me cansé, me quemé la cabeza. Yo quería dibujar. Estuve seis años así. Lo que rescato de trabajar en un periódico es la práctica y la velocidad que te da. Allí hay que resolver todo inmediatamente.

CDS: ¿Cómo es el proceso de publicar historietas?

LV: Es muy complicado publicar. Sobre todo acá, porque los editores son muy deshonestos. No te pagan, no te rinden. Hay que tener cuidado con los chantas. Yo publiqué con algunos como Moebuis que, si bien es una editorial muy pequeña, son muy copados. Y uno de los valores que rescato cuando me comprometo con un editor chico es la buena onda. Ellos me editaron Matabicho. Pero Estupefacto, el libro anterior, lo editó un editor muy pirata que nunca rindió cuentas. Un desastre. Terminó en las mesas de saldo. Ahora en España acaba de salir el libro de Paolo Pinocchio, con la editorial Dibbuks, que es bastante seria y me genera mucha confianza. Ellos ya habían editado "La Herencia del Coronel", que es el nombre en España de "El Síndrome Guastavino". Espero que les vaya bien con el libro.

Después está la Fierro. Está bueno editar en la Fierro. Tiene mucha repercusión todo lo que allí sale. La gente de todo el país lo ve. Pagan lo mínimo, pero lo tomo como una entrada más de la historieta. Con Gustavino hicimos eso. Primero salió en Fierro y después salió en libro. Así se va amortizando un poco el enorme esfuerzo que es hacer una historieta.

En la Argentina no hay muchas lugares para publicar historietas. Generalmente se arma un circuito donde más o menos se conocen todos, pero es muy limitado. Después, internacionalmente no tengo muchas puertas abiertas. Por ahora el proceso es publicar en el Fierro y después ver que editores quieren publicar el material ya hecho. También están los diarios, que muy de vez en cuando ofrecen un espacio. Yo publiqué durante un año una página en la revista dominical de La Nación y después un año en la revista Viva de Clarín. Pero se me va quemando la cabeza después de un tiempo.

A Very Fierro Week

Rocketbooks Comic Fair and the Parque Centenario

On Saturday I went to Rocketbooks, a monthly fair that features used comics imported from the United States. The tiny room was boiling hot, filled to the brim with fan boys and superhero comics. It was the closest thing to hell I have encountered yet on this earth. (Kidding! Argentine fan boys are much more interesting and attractive than their USA counterparts.) I recommend this place for Argentines that like superheroes and enjoy looking through boxes of comics. Even though I ended up buying some second run Fierro comics at a reasonable price, I probably won't go back. It isn't my scene.

Afterwards, I went with Guillermo (a classmate from Diego’s workshop) to the fairs at Parque Centenario and found...a whole new genre of comic. As a child, Tintin fascinated me. The plots, drawings, and characters helped form a love of comics that lasts until this day. So naturally, when I came across La Vida Sexual de Tintin, a porno comic featuring all the characters from the series paired off in interesting ways, I bought it. I haven’t read it yet, but I’m sure it’ll be traumatizing!

Fierro a Fierro

The University of Buenos Aires Social Sciences

On Monday, I went to an exhibition of pages and covers from the magazine Fierro, curated by Laura Vazquez, my adviser and teacher. The pages were not originals, but blown up, printed, and mounted. Usually, when I go to exhibitions, I get involved in a conversation within minutes of arriving and don’t get to actually see the artwork. Well, I got half way through the show when my friend Hernán saw me and invited me over to talk.

Remember that story about the six men in the cabin in Lobos? Apparently that story has become legend in the Argentine comics world. Anyway, most of those men were there and I got to hear them speak about their work during the show’s opening presentation. Diego Agrimbau, the moderator, asked the group of artists and writers if they had read the first run of Fierro and how they felt about publishing in the second run. As children or young adults, most of them had read the Fierro, but only a few dreamed of publishing their stories in the magazine. An interest in comics from a young age was a unifying factor. Facial hair was the other common bond. A word of advice to all the young men out there: if you want to publish in the Fierro, a beard/moustache/goatee is a must.

From left to right: Angel Mosquito, Max Aguirre, Federico Reggiani, Calvi, Dante Ginevra, Gustavo Sala, and Diego Agrimbau

La Feria del Libro

La Feria del Libro is basically book lover's hell. You pay money to get in, battle with thousands of slow-moving people to see the merchandise, then pay for overpriced books. And I went for three days. In a row. Am I a masochist?

Nope. I was just attending the “Congreso Internacional de Promoción de la Lectura y el Libro.” If anyone wants to go to the Feria del Libro for a few days in a row, I recommend signing up for a conference. It costs about $35 pesos for a three days ($15 pesos/day is the usual rate if you aren’t a student), you don’t have to wait in line to get a ticket (the wait can be up to 45 minutes), and you get a 20% discount on everything because with the special conference pass, people mistake you for a teacher. And, besides all those benefits, some of the talks are quite interesting. One talk, “La publicidad y sus herramientas para conquistar lectores,” was about using advertising methods to encourage readership. The lecturer, Ariel Abadi, advised moving away from tired clichés about reading to new techniques that incorporate other types of media. One example he suggested was having publishing companies create playlists for certain books. It might be interesting to see how these advertising techniques could be applied to promoting readership of comics.

Quite a few comics events took place that weekend. Gustavo Sala presented his book Bife Angosto 2 and then played a few songs with his band Los Dentistas Tristes. We were able to see a projection of his initial sketches and then the final, finished comic strip. He is also a pretty amazing singer. After that, I went to a presentation of De Amor, De Locura y De Muerte, a graphic adaptation of Horacio Quiroga’s book.

Anyway, just writing about this fair makes me feel tired, so I’m going to end with some pictures of the event. No matter how much I complain about the fair, I recommend going. It is the third largest book fair in the world and is an interesting topic of conversation.

The Feria del Libro took place at La Rural, a place where most large fairs are held.

A lecture given by librarians.

Some of the comics stands at the Feria

All the books I bought

Gustavo Sala signing my book.

Minute Reviews

Dante Elefante by J.J. Rovella

Colección Aventuras Dibujadas

Domus Editorial

I met J.J. Rovella while interviewing La Banda Dibujada (reflections on the interview are soon to be posted). The day after the interview, I bought Dante Elefante, a children’s comic about a blue elephant that has quite an active life—he falls in love, dies, does sports and tries to lose weight. My favorite aspect of the comic is the way Rovella recognizes the physical constraints of a comic (the panels, text bubbles, the space a comic occupies) and plays with them in a clever way. For example, Dante jumps off a diving board and is so heavy he breaks through the panel and off the page. In another scene, he sneezes while trying to read the newspaper, blowing it to pieces. After diligently taping the newspaper back together, we find that the end of the comic strip we are reading has been mis-taped and features another cartoon. Rovella creates comics acknowledging and then disregarding the limitations of a typical comic strip, challenging us as readers to think outside the panel.

The above images are from J.J. Rovella's blog. Check it out for more Dante Elefante comics!

Loss and Inspiration

I have no experience writing or talking about death. I know the words of condolences that people offer, but these phrases feel so stiff and overused. The writer Carlos Trillo died, and my friends in the Argentine comics community are mourning. For many of them, he was a companion and colleague as well as an admired and popular writer. I don’t know how to console them, so I listen to their memories about this man that guided them and had such a profound impact on their lives. When talking about Trillo, they lament the fact that I will never get to meet him and learn from him, like they did. I wish I could have got to know the man that wrote so many of my favorite comics, but in terms of inspiration, Trillo has already changed my life. It was through his words that I came up with the idea for my Fulbright project.

It was the talk “Carlos Trillo y Sus Dibujantes” at Viñetas Sueltas in 2009 that made me aware of the economic aspect of the comic book world. At this point in my life, I had given up sending ideas to Donald Andrew, the Fulbright Adviser at Smith College, because he had vetoed every single idea I proposed for a possible Fulbright project. I attended Viñetas Sueltas solely because of a growing interest in Argentine comics. My favorite comics at the time were Clara de Noche and Las Puertitas de Señor López, two comics written by Carlos Trillo, and so I decided to attend his talk. Trillo spoke about working abroad for Spanish companies because of the multiple domestic crises and limited Argentine market. He spoke extremely honestly about these financial and personal matters. And beyond that, he was funny and engaging, really connecting with the audience. Before hearing Trillo speak, I had no idea how comic book artists and writers lived. His experiences conveyed the complexities of living life in Argentina as an artist. After the talk, I went home and sent Donald Andrews an idea for a project about an economic analysis of the graphic novel industry. That one idea, out of many, was accepted and eventually resulted in my grant.

So I, like my friends here in the comics world, want to express my gratitude to Carlos Trillo for being so forthcoming about these challenges and being the catalyst for my investigation. Although I didn’t have the pleasure of studying with him or becoming his friend, I am grateful for the opportunity to listen to tales of him as told by his many admirers and to learn about the profound impact he had on the comics community.