Underground Station
by Bruce Sweeney
The big four publishers of underground comix are Last Gasp (777 Florida St, S.F. ,CA 94110), Rip-Off Press (P.O Box 4686, Auburn, CA 95604), Kitchen Sink (320 Riverside Drive, Northhampton, MA 01060), and Fantagraphics (7563 Lake City Way N.E., Seattle, WA 98115). The first three were there when it all started and have diversified into additional product lines to stay alive and pay the rent. All four, however, like their British cousins Knockabout and their Canadian cousins at Drawn and Quarterly (Box 48056, Montreal, Quebec H2V 4S8) and a few stalwarts in the U.S. have taken brave chances on products that will surely lose money. It’ll earn them the respect of a closed community however, that publishes, distributes and markets products that they have to; to support material in which they sincerely believe. These four to six publishers, then, are heroes among us. They distribute what they must to survive and still merchandise the items that could realisticly make a difference while showing no significant market value. Thus marks a champion. How many films or records never turned a substantial profit while creating really important art product?
Fortunately for us, there are bold creators out there. I won’t even touch rock music – that’s awash in experiments by everyone from Springsteen, Iggy Pop and Van Morrison to every two-record regional recorder with a sense of mission – thousands. For films, I only need mention a handful like Heaven’s Gate, Fingers with Keitel, Jarmusch’s Night on Earth, The Mission with DeNiro, or the fabulously twisted Harold and Maude. (Hey, this a party! I could spend hours discussing hip films according to Bruce!)
The undergrounds, however, are my primary love. More of them are given over to experimentation and taking chances than any popular art form. By now, you must realize that I am perversely and irrevocably enmeshed in u.g.s as an art form. My ass is committed! Fantagraphics has a modest volume of undergrounds due out on the scene. For one thing, they have a new Crumb title, Self-Loathing, due out in May for $3.50. This will be in the standard black & white format, with 32 pages by Robert and Aline Kominsky. Charles Burns and Art Speigelman are also making small contributions to it.
They have a third Bodé Erotica due. It’s an 8 1/2″ x 11″ trade paperback; 50 pages of extracts from Bodé’s Deadbone strips that were run in some of the men’s magazines, $12.95. They also have a new Complete Crumb vol #12 with ’70s Crumb material reprinted from American Splendor, High Times, Winds of Change, Zap, CoEvolutionary Quarterly and Dirty Laundry. Prices are $18.95 for the softcover, $39.95 for the hardcover, and $75 for a signed version.
More Crumb is not a bad thing, because they also will have Vol #6 of The Crumb Sketchbook which is 150 pages of Robert’s off-the-cuff squiggles. The paperback will go for $19.95, the hardcover $39.95 and a signed hardcover for $75, again.
Once you’re co-opted by the majority you’re no longer hip, right? Or only for the first six months… Once Black or gay or musician jargon ends up in the sitcoms it belongs to the masses and if it ain’t a secret, if it ain’t kinda underground, how can it be hip? If everyone is high-fiving, doesn’t it just get sort of goofy in a hurry? If everyone wears a baseball cap where do you go from there? Socks inside out? No socks? What?
Kevin Smith did the respectable independent black-and-white Clerks in 1994 on a $27,000 budget and turned out a real, reel success (so forgive me…). Now he’s issuing Chasing Amy, a full-color film in which the hero and heroine do underground comics. The hero’s part is named “Banky,” much too close to Justin Green’s Binky Brown, the original autobiographical u.g. comic. Can I stand this infringement on my private world?
S. Clay Wilson confirms that he’s got an illustration in the May Hustler and the Checkered Demon Anthology out by summer (Last Gasp, 777 Florida St., S.F., CA 94110). L.G. is also selling a Robert Crumb all-Mode O’Day book (in French, unfortunately), Belle D’Un Jour, for $19.95. One of the few times that I spoke with Robert Crumb, he was aghast at a proposal that someone suggested casting his Weirdo Mode O’Day character in clay as has been done for Mr. Natural. He and I agreed that a clay Mr. Natural would be one thing; but as obscure a character as Mode O’Day? Now she has her own book, in hard-cover, in French. Go figure.
Then again, his brother’s Maxon’s Poe is near among us. (Word Play, l Sutter St., S.F., CA 94104) This consists of seven of Poe’s most popular stories, illustrated by Maxon Crumb in a 7″ x 7″ format. Softcover $17.95 or hardcover, signed & numbered, for $40. These people did an S. Clay Wilson-illustrated Hans Christian Andersen last year and it was a stunning production. Poe, of course, is credited with inventing the mystery novel and the earliest horror stories. A beleagured figure, fascinated by darkness and death two hundred years before Stephen King.
Last Gasp’s real claim to current fame is the title Horny Biker Sluts #11; which rates from me a “pul-eeze.” This title, at least, takes itself with no seriousness at all, combining cheap, prurient, indulgent comic art (tsk, tsk) with a redeeming portion of outrageous humor. It’s just enough of a self-spoof to be forgiven for its wild self-indulgence. Cute.
Hotter, perhaps, and with less of a grin, is Rip-Off Press’ Demi the Demoness #4 (P.O. Box 4686; Auburn, CA 95604). Now, this is just as successful a title as Biker Sluts. They wouldn’t go to #4 in today’s depressed market without demand – Rip-Off’s product here blends clear sex with a big dollop of science-fiction; also with an eye cocked toward an audience with an interest in visual execution.
No grass grows on the driveway in front of Kitchen Sink, either. Their answer to the sex-is-fun-in-comics movement is the Cherry Poptart line, which has been around for years. In a style highly reminiscent of the late Bob Montana’s Archie series, Cherry Poptart is a humorous, cartoony rendition of nubile sex between the pages. All in clean fun at $2.95. Melody, Doll, and Stacia are three more sex comics from Kitchen Sink, as well.
Sure, O.K…. I’ll cover the sex-comic product of these stalwart six but my heart isn’t in science-fiction porn or cartoon porn. It’s fine if you’re 17 and covered in pimples and confusion (been there…), but if you hope to hit 25 or 50 without being totally lost, you keep your eye on the horizon as well as the end of the street.
Clearly on the horizon is the output of Adrian Tomine, whose great Optic Nerve fanzine was discovered by Canada’s Drawn & Quarterly. They were so impressed with Mr. Tomine’s independent comic that they gobbled him up and produced his inspired 32 Stories in 1995. Adrian Tomine is an utter genius and he’s 23… (don’t ya hate him?)
His material is largely autobiographical and immediately captures the tension and apprehension of being 20-something. To say that he’s the Clerks of ’90s comics is too glib and fast because he’s deeper and more personal than that. His inner vision is as precise as film and as stripped down as much of quality fiction. Few artists, maybe none, have come so far so soon.
