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 by Daniel Holloway
One of the places from which blood has begun to spill is one of the Expo's most popular supplements, the SPX anthology. Traditionally, SPX has been an inexpensive sampling of work from artists who could be found at the Expo. But just as shifts in the direction of the Expo have warranted increased scrutiny, changes in the editorial direction of the publication that serves as its primary ambassador have made it necessary to take a hard look at the anthology.
The Expo's mission has always been clearly defined. To quote from the introduction to the 2001 SPX:
Clearly stated, if not exactly beautifully phrased stuff. If the point of the Expo is to showcase the state of American artcomics, one can only conclude from reading the most recent volumes of the show's publication that American artcomics must be destroyed at all costs.
What follows is a proposal for a new SPX anthology, one that, unlike the book in its current format, would be truer to the stated objectives of its publishers. In the process, it may even assist in restoring some greatly needed artistic integrity to a show that is fast devolving into a zine swap meet.
Admittedly, SPX fills a void that independent publishers have failed to address -- the need for a major anthology run under a policy that encourages blind submissions. If Fantagraphics, D&Q, Alternative, etc. published anthologies of unsolicited contributions from authors outside of their perceived stables, it would do more to lend an air of respectability to the medium than 10,000 minicomics ever will. Being driven to submit work of substance for editorial consideration would force developing cartoonists to actually meet a standard of quality before their work sees print. The lack of such standards is a cancer on the small-press-comics world, fostering an attitude among minicomics artists that their work is worthy of their readers' time simply because it exists.
While such a publishing strategy could improve the artcomics landscape, SPX already has a mission that contradicts such a strategy. As the self-proclaimed elite exhibition of American artcomics, the lineup for the Expo's publication should more closely resemble Zoetrope than Granta.
The SPX anthology would make greater strides in fostering a more positive image of the Expo and North American artcomics if, rather than accepting unsolicited work, the editors would solicit new or previously published work from the upper echelon cartoonists who attend the show. The medium is home to a few artists that could truly be considered masters of the form, and some of them have visited the Expo. There, artists such as Charles Burns, Seth, Art Spiegelman and Los Bros. Hernandez have rubbed shoulders with some of the most accomplished artists of the newest generation, including Tom Hart, James Kochalka, Dave Cooper and Renee French. The Expo organizers have traditionally used such inter-generational mingling as a hook to draw attendees and exhibitors. That they would choose not to use the same strategy in their promotional publication is perplexing. A book featuring work by a mix of these artists, 15 to 20 in total, would be far more effective as an open hand extended to the comics-hating public. While such a strategy would no doubt return to print work that many readers have seen before, it is unlikely that most readers have read every stray piece by the likes of Burns or Los Bros. Prior to the adoption of the submissions strategy with the 2002 publication, SPX made strips by Seth and Spiegelman that had originally been published in magazines more accessible to graphic-novel readers by reprinting them. To appeal to those who actively seek out such work in its original printing, artists such as Kochalka and Hart may be convinced to contribute original material, given their longstanding relationships with the Expo. The mission of the Expo, at its purest, is to celebrate the best in artcomics, and to invite the public in for a look. The comics body never appears to be in better health than when its finest craftsmen are the ones representing it.
The effect of the 2001 version's approach is that the book acts as a guide to the world of comics, particularly the world of comics as represented at the Expo. This kind of intelligent guidebook approach is more befitting of an artcomics festival than an anthology featuring up and coming (read: deservedly obscure) cartoonists is. But the 2001 model and its predecessors stop short of the in-depth approach that could make SPX a one-of-a-kind publication.
If the anthology were to feature work by 15 to 20 top comics creators, buoy those contributions with profiles and interviews with those creators. Take a cue from Comic Art and do an "In the Studio" feature, in which a top artist like Chris Ware talks about his or her favorite cartoonists and then provides examples of their work to be reprinted. What feature could be more appropriate to a book celebrating an artform than one in which a master provides an illustrated review of the very best of that artform?
In its most practical sense, the Expo is an economic function. Much has been made of the idea of "premiering" books at the show. In 2000, the Expo coordinators acknowledged this function by introducing the Outstanding Debut Comic Ignatz award. Publishers would be more likely to hold their books for premiere at the Expo if the show's organizers would assist them in promoting the books. The Expo should coordinate with publishers to procure advance copies of books that have release dates coinciding with the show, and then pass those books along to (gasp!) comics critics. Certainly, a guidebook to a showcase event is no place for a Comics Journal-style lashing, but TCJ writers have, on occasion, written positive, insightful critiques of work they genuinely enjoyed. So long as Frank Cho's comics are kept out of the hands of Milo George, everyone should be happy (not least of all George and Cho). Such articles would not only assist publishers attending the Expo and the artists whose wares they push, but would lend a cerebral air to the book and the show that both are, at the moment, sorely lacking. The much talked about, seldom evident happy marriage of art and commerce would benefit most from such a move.
But better art by better artists makes for a better book, and better art warrants better production value. The 2001 volume featured a color section. This was a step in the right direction (though no such color section can be found in either of the subsequent volumes), but in a visual medium, presentation matters more so than in a medium like prose. But presentation is often taken more seriously by the A-list prose publications than by many comics.
McSweeney's serves as the ultimate example. With a roster of writers so highly regarded that it could be composed on a spiral-bound notebook and still be worthy of critical acclaim, Dave Eggers and company go to extraordinary lengths to present an attractive physical package. The result is a publication with a great deal more popular buzz than, for instance, The Southern Review. McSweeney's attracts readers that might otherwise ignore a literary journal, and thus introduces those readers to writers such as Ann Cummins, Michael Chabon and Gilbert Sorrentino. Buzz that originates with interest in a book printed as a pulp paperback or a collection of chapbooks translates into exposure to critically acclaimed writing.
The comics world has its fair share of design savants -- Ware, Jordan Crane, Dan Raeburn, Ethan Persoff -- and it would behoove the publishers of SPX to seek out their services. If that means paying for those services and spending more on printing costs in order to reproduce their work, then that cost should, in true capitalist form, be passed on to the consumer. A Jaime Hernandez cover is nice, but not likely to turn anyone on who is not already familiar with his work.
If the Expo is, as it claims to be, a premiere event, its publication should look like a premiere publication. Any high school senior vying for popularity knows that he is not going to climb the ladder by taking an ugly girl in a homemade dress to the prom. He takes the hottest young lady in school, puts her in the sexiest dress he can find and prays that she puts out at the end of the night. If she winds up being an expensive date, then, hey man, it was worth it.
Comparing the Expo to a high-school popularity contest may be the most relevant analogy one could make in discussing the show. If one takes this view, he or she may be forced to admit that the 2002 and 2003 editions of SPX are a more accurate reflection of the shifting mission of the Expo than the anthology described in this proposal would be. By splitting with ICAF in order to pursue a relationship with the Baltimore Con and allowing the departure of Reynolds (who told Michael Dean in TCJ #251 that he had been responsible for soliciting appearances by Spiegelman and Los Bros.) the Expo may be dumbing down, appealing to a younger crowd more interested in selling Xeroxes and networking than picking the brains of their elders in the shadow of an academic conference. While this may be the reality, one hopes that it is not the perception that the Expo directors want to encourage. However, if the goal of the Small Press Expo is in fact to do nothing more than celebrate mediocrity, they could not hope for an anthology that fulfills that role more perfectly than the one they have now.
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The direction of the Small Press Expo has been a subject of intense debate since last year's exhibition, punctuated by the show's flirtation with the Baltimore Comic-Con, its split with the International Cartoon Arts Festival and the resignation of Steering Committee members Tom Devlin and Eric Reynolds. To even the most mildly concerned observer's eyes, the Expo has been hemorrhaging credibility for quite some time.
Publishing a mixed bag of comics by cartoonists still in the early stages of their development does nothing to help the image of a medium that the public already views as juvenile and second-rate. The submissions policy must be thrown out with the bathwater.
The 2001 SPX includes profiles of French cartoonist Blutch, Dutch cartoonist Willem, and Swiss cartoonist Thomas Ott alongside interviews with Carla Speed McNeil, Jeff Smith, Chris Staros, Kurt Wolfgang, Kochalka, Jordan Crane and Dean Haspiel. These features rest comfortably amidst comics by Spiegelman, French and Sam Henderson. In contrast, the 2002 edition only features comics by lesser talents, such as Lauren McCubbin, Robert Ullman and Joshua Delashmutt, who rest quite uncomfortably between front and back covers by David Mazzucchelli and Kochalka.
The 1998 edition of SPX offered 184 pages for $4.95, while this year's book checks in with 290 pages at $9.95. If nothing else, SPX has always been a welcome reprieve for the pocketbook-challenged. If not all the comics measure up to higher standards of quality, at least you get an awful lot of comics for not an awful lot of money -- sort of the opposite of buying a book by Kochalka.