Showing posts with label 1984. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1984. Show all posts

Jun 22, 2025

Un-used Swamp Thing 21 cover

Art by Thomas Yeates
Few days ago, collector Richard Donnelly posted the above image on his CAF gallery
It's an un-used cover art by Tom Yeates for the seminal Swamp Thing The Anatomy Lesson issue, cover date February 1984. 
Donnelly writes: "This un-inked pencil cover with two surgeons and a nurse about to vivisect Swamp Thing was likely rejected by Comic-Code or DC editorial. Signed with note and sketch by Thomas Yeates."
 
The official cover - now a classic! - was actually less direct and explicit.

Mar 8, 2022

Vital Statistics 1984: Most Feared Form of Death

Above, from David Anthony Kraft's Comics Interview n.12, published in June 1984
Interview by Guy Lawley and Steve Whitaker.
Most Feared Form of Death: Having a slate fall from a rooftop and slice my brain in two halves.
More details HERE.

Jan 11, 2022

1984: a conversation with Eddie Campbell

Art by Eddie Campbell
Excerpt from Out on the perimeter, a conversation with Eddie Campbell published in Escape n.5, 1984.  At the time Campbell was working on his Alec stories and Moore was writing Swamp Thing for DC Comics.
 
 Out on the perimeter
[...] What Eddie and Alan do have in common is an eagerness to expand the concerns of the 'comic' strip, whether in the big-bucks industry or through the small press scene. They spent the lunchtime drinking and talking. The subject of food didn't come up until last orders, when they adjourned for, as Alan put it, 'Pancakes with the Popular!'

[...]

Eddie Campbell: On Swamp Thing and others, you're working on raw material that's supplied to you. My stories are found, not constructed. You construct your stories almost along the lines of a song, in verse, rhythmic repetitions, all song devices.

Alan Moore: Yes, I work on a page length.

E: The page as your basic unit, the stanza. I'm finding a more organic shape, like a twisted branch, which is a form. You wrote in a review that 'Eddie doesn't write stories as such.' What do you think of as a story?

A: I've got a broad definition of the term story. What I meant was that to an audience weaned on average comics, you would not be writing stories. Now I can see it as a story, but to them the average comic is a continuum made up of lots of little episodes all strung together. You've got your own continuum, but you look at it differently, one single hour, one single day, out of the middle of it and you study it and suddenly you can see all the patterns that emerge in it. What both of us have in common is that we approach comics not just with a visual but with a literary sensibility. I can see that in your stuff and I know you do it consciously. What's come to constitute a story in comics is one where it's formularised, you set up the characters on the first page, the conflict round about the third page and when the conflict has resolved, the story's over.

E: I feel it's wrong to try to define the comic strip in formal terms. Comics are very much a tradition.

A: Oh yes, once comics encompassed a vast range of things, but we've deliberately limited our own field, hamstrung it. The superhero is an aberration, he's a jerk. He should never have been allowed to dominate the field. It's starting to change, but when you think of the tyranny of the superhero, you realise there are a lot of comic forms that are rarely explored anymore today.

E: Remember Rube Goldberg's delightful inventions? Isn't this idea of comics being 'sequential narrative' very limiting if we've got to exclude things like that?

A: But that happens with anything once you've got it rigidly defined. Years ago nobody knew what comics were, so they just did what they wanted. Imagine if George Herriman had ever read How To Draw Comics The Marvel Way, he'd be told he got his backgrounds wrong in 'Krazy Kat' because they weren't consistent! Once you create a rule, it's there to be ignored.

[...]

E: The terrible thing is that when you're looking for stories, life becomes fiction, stories happen because you were looking for them.

A: Well I'll tell you what I saw today. It's partly because I've started giving up smoking, so I've got that low nicotine jangliness which makes you perceive the world as a very strange place. I was standing at Lewisham station, looking down from the hill at this grim industrial cluster of prefabricated buildings with all these caravans parked on this grey asphalt stretch of land. Playing around the caravans were about ten young children, all of them looked cold and scruffy, and about fifteen dogs. This really strange little land of children and dogs, no adults to be seen anywhere. That struck me. I could probably come up with a story about it, but I can't work it into Swamp Thing.

E: It seems terrible to me that we're always stuck with melodrama. Why have comics always been melodramatic? There are stories in abundance, everywhere I looked I see something I want to record.

A: We mentioned the literary side of comics and it's a good comparison, because with literature the range of stories open to you is infinite. Whereas, if you want to make a living in the comics industry, you've got to write something on the level of 'Bulldog Drummond'.

E: I don't agree, we've got to expand it.

A: Oh yes. We're probably approaching the same problem from different ends. In my better stuff I'm trying to expand the concerns of what can or can't be done in mainstream comics. Nothing radical, but 'V for Vendetta', 'Bojeffries' and the odd page in Swamp Thing tread on new territory, even if it is still within the same basic structure. You're coming at it from totally outside the established comics field, just going out there to stake some territory. Hopefully we can meet . . .

E: Out on the perimeter, you mean! Another difference between us is that you're employed to do something, whereas I find myself urged to do something.

A: Yes, that's right. And I'm getting really bored with it.

E: I'm sure you could work my way.

A: Yes, I could. I'm really envious of your stuff - I have been for a while.

E: I'm envious of the money you're making!

A: I don't think I'm that envious of your stuff that I'd swap it for the money I'm making! I'm making what I call silly money, just from Swamp Thing alone. I've bought my Dad a greenhouse and my Mum an electric organ - I'm a big softy! There's too much money in American comics at the moment, it encourages greediness. It's a big temptation but I don't, because I'm a man of iron too! Ater I read 'Alec', I felt cheerier than when I started, uplifted to a minor degree. When I read my stuff, I come to the conclusion that I intended to do emotional or intellectual violence to the reader! It's very grim and nasty.

E: It's hard-bitten.

A: That's it. I just wish I could loosen my sphincter a bit! I wish I could do something that would make people feel good! I'm actually a very optimistic person, but obviously there's a lot of real black shit that needs to be worked out!

E: I think the reader gets the impression that I might be a nicer man to meet!

A: I think that's probably true!

[...]

E: [...] Do you think of comics as condensed films?

A: No, I try to question the instant assumption that films are comics' closest relative. To me it's a literary thing; not purely, there's the visual side as well.

E: I see the root of comics as the cartoon. I try to have each frame as an autonomous cartoon.

A: I can see that. In every shot you've got the entire bar and you can see all the characters. You don't give Danny Grey a close-up when he's saying something clever. That's a lot closer to the newspaper style of cartooning. You've made a true point but you've made a language that is eminently suitable for your sort of strips. You have to change the basic language of comics before you can change the content.

E: Yeah. I find in the wake of Escape, there's a lot of people trying to do the found story, overheard conversations, observations of life. So they're aware of a trend towards more sensitive comics, but many of them are still using the language of melodrama.

A: What I'm interested in is the creative process itself. I never get asked about that. But it's the most difficult thing to talk about, because the only language you can use is comics or music or whatever art you are doing, it's difficult to talk about all the tiny invisible decisions going on in your subconscious.

[...]

A: Theoretically if someone could use comics right, you could have a form of art that was more affecting than films or novels, if you could get that juxtaposition of word and image, so that you're striking all the chords. This is one thing I like about your stuff and which I try to emulate to a degree. If you give the reader a complete parcel of a neat plot, neat elliptical dialogue that all ties up neatly into a neatly resolved story, there's nothing left for the reader to digest, it's just something to swallow and shit. It'll taste nice on the way down but has no nutritional value whatever. The story should occur not on the page but five minutes later in the reader's mind. The best books I've read often have some line or scene that will be gnawing at the back of my mind for months. What did he mean? What was he trying to say? Thomas Pynchon's 'Gravity's Rainbow' has so much of that, every page has got one of those on it.

E: There's a sense of meaning rather than a statement.

A: Yeah, meaning is redundant, a meaning is a statement which is not a very interesting thing to make because it's dead, it's flat, it doesn't do anything. I mean 'War is Hell', it doesn't grow, whereas 'War is Fast Food', then people think 'What does he mean?' and they might actually take a week trying to figure it out. As it happens readers, it doesn't mean anything! But if there is that obliqueness to things, then it involves the audience, drags them in.

[...]

E: How do you feel about being considered a celebrity?

A: I know it's a bit wingey and whiny but sometimes I wish I didn't get quite the scrutiny that I do. When I started out writing, nobody expected me to be any good, so any good stories I did were seen as being really miraculous. But now if I do a story that's average or dull, then I'm sure most people see it as the beginning of the end. In that respect the relationship between the reader and the artist gets a bit twisted. It's no longer straight communication. It's probably something you've got to put up with.

E: But would you have been happier to remain in anonymity as Curt Vile?

A: Probably not and that just exposes my basic dishonesty! I may bitch about all this, but there is something wrong with the medium at the moment. If there were more good strip creators around, there wouldn't be so much unhealthy importance attached to personalities like Frank Miller or on one level me and on another you. There wouldn't be that Messianic glee and fervour and people would be able to look at the work more honestly and judge it independently of the hype surrounding it.

E: I think that's unavoidable, that's human nature.

A: But it's not the same in literature.

E: But it's not so exciting is it?

A: No. It's the youth of the audience that makes what we're doing closer to pop music. Popular culture.

E: Then you have to accept that this is the way it's got to go.

A: Yes, we can be teen idols!

Sep 1, 2021

Influences

Eno's Ambient 1: Music for Airports
Excerpt from an interview by Mark Burbey published in The Comics Journal n. 93, September 1984.
Mark Burbey: What sorts of influences do you draw from when you're writing?
Alan Moore: I really wish I could answer this by saying something decisive and opinionated like, "I only listen to Cuban jazz from the 1940s and I only read obscure Portuguese poetry in the original text." Sadly, I'm as boringly catholic as most people and tend to absorb just about everything I read, see, or listen to.
    I suppose one major point is that in writing comics I don't really absorb too much influence from the comics that I read unless it's something inexpressibly brilliant like Frank Miller's stuff, or American Flagg!, or Love and Rockets. Mostly I'd say that my influence comes from novels that I read or the occasional film that I see. If anything, I'd say that what I'd like to do as a writer is to try and translate some of the intellect and sensibilities that I find in books into something that will work on a comics page. Although I've obviously read and been influenced by most of the classic works of comic art like Eisner and Kurtzman, I can't help but feel that if you're influenced too much by your forebears in the comics field then a sort of process of dilution results, in which each succeeding generation of artists and writers is a little paler and more anemic than the generation before.
    For my part, it seems to smack too much of inbreeding (something we British have a terror of, probably brought on by the state of the Royal Family). I like the idea of bringing fresh ideas and approaches into the field, and although I seldom succeed in these objectives, they're what I'm aiming at.
    As far as actual influences go, any list would be long, boring, and inconclusive. For what it's worth, however, I like Cordwainer Smith, William Burroughs, Harlan Ellison, Angela Carter, Stephen King, John Gardner, Flann O'Brein, Thomas Disch, William Faulkner, Damon Runyon, Truman Capote, Dorothy Parker, Peter Carey, and so on and so on. I suppose a major influence would have to be musician Brian Eno; just in the precise and mechanical way he approaches the idea of creativity I've been able to find a vast amount of inspiration to how I structure my own work.

Feb 19, 2021

Feeling about comic writing

The Comics Journal n.93
Excerpt from The Comics Journal n. 93, September 1984. Interview by Mark Burbey.
Burbey: I had wondered if the title of Swamp Thing #23, "Another Green World," had been inspired by the Eno album of the same name. I think you've brought Swamp Thing down to a more human level, where the reader can more readily identify with what's happening to the characters. Despite its fantastic nature, it seems less like a "comic book" than most comics. The people and their feelings and reactions seem very important, more so than the so-called obligatory action sequences. What is your approach and attitude about writing Swamp Thing, and comics writing in general?
Moore: I suppose that overall my feeling about comic writing is that it should be a lot more effective and visceral than it is. I find myself reading humor books that don't make me laugh, adventure books that don't excite me, and horror books that don't scare me in the slightest.
    I think that what's gradually happened over the last 30 or 40 years is that each of these genres have gradually built up an arsenal of cliches that have totally overwhelmed and smothered the original concepts. In humor books, for example, if you look back to Kurtzman's Mad you have something that was genuinely funny and that would actually make people laugh. Since then, however, it's as if the producers of subsequent humor mags have only had to conjure a little of Mad's style in order to evoke the appropriate response. They cram a panel with largely mundane sight gags, they assume that it is sufficient to change a couple of letters in the name of whatever they're satirizing, the pacing is always on a breathless Laugh-In level...the assumption is that if you throw in enough items that are recognizable as something approaching funny comics, then the end product will somehow be funny. It's a bit like the approach that the Cargo Cultists had to practical electronics: if you get a wooden box and stick knobs on the front then it's a radio, and who cares if it makes any noise or not.
    The same thing applies to horror. It's been reduced to a form of shorthand: "If a werewolf jumps out from behind a tree and growls at the girl then this will be frightening." But of course, it isn't...the shock or horror and the similar shock of humor are to some degree based on the sudden recognition of something totally unfamiliar. A werewolf jumping out from behind a tree is such a stock image that there isn't the merest frisson of terror in it for the majority of the audience.
    So, basically, what I try to do when approaching any genre is to try and sort out the original idea from the accumulated silt of tradition. It's what I tried to do when approaching the super-hero strip by way of Marvelman, and it's what I'm trying to do with the horror strip by way of Swamp Thing.
    Specifically, when approaching Swamp Thing, I could see a number of problems. The first was that Len and Berni's original conception of the character, while it had worked perfectly back in the early '70s, couldn't really cut it for an '80s audience. The audience has changed, their environment has changed, and their notion of horror has changed. It's like something that I believe Stephen King said in Danse Macabre while comparing Val Lewton's Cat People to the version by Paul Schrader: he said that the reality set had changed, and that scenes that would have gripped and convinced an audience 20 years ago would be laughed out of the cinema today.
    For one thing, a large percentage of our audience now has some sort of access to video equipment. If they wish, they can watch glowingly explicit films showing a woman having her nipples torn off with a pair of pliers. On a more acceptable level, they can watch John Carpenter's The Thing and see vivid, godawful weirdness far more real and far more imaginative than anything ever experienced in comics...despite the notion that comics have an "unlimited special-effects budget." You see, the problem is that while we might be able to approximate an unlimited special effects budget with our lines on paper, people like Spielberg and Lucas actually have an unlimited special effects budget.
    We have to accept that this sort of stuff is what we're competing against for the attentions and money of the audience, and we have to work out what can be done about it. Now, obviously, we couldn't compete in the gore stakes even if we had any inclinations toward this area. Similarly, we can't rely upon our sense of wonder to pull us through, not when we're up against something like Poltergeist, or Alien.
    For me, the only areas in which we can successfully compete are in the novel things that we can do with our storytelling that cannot be successfully duplicated by other media, and in the weight, depth, and moment of our actual stories.
    This last point is probably the most important angle from my point of view...much of the culture that I find surrounding me seems to be composed mostly of flash and surface. There very seldom seems to be any sort of depth of meaning or importance to the films that I see, irrespective of how good the special effects are. This is a weakness that I think the comic industry would do well to exploit: people cannot maintain infinite enthusiasm and affection for a bunch of explosions. Sooner or later, to paraphrase a remark I believe was originally uttered by the estimable Jeff Jones, they're going to ask for a donut to go with the hole.
    With Swamp Thing, we're trying the best we can to construct stories that have some sort of real human resonance and some moments of genuine unease. From my end, this comes down to what I do with the characters and how I set up the story. I find that my general line of approach is to build up the characters, often in woefully slow and monotonous sequences, so that when the action does finally arrive, the readers will have some sort of real sense of what is at stake both physically and emotionally. This isn't a perfect approach, in that sometimes I seem to end up with a story in which practically nothing happens and I plunge into a morass of guilt over not having given Steve and John anything interesting to draw. On the whole, though, I think we're on the right tack. The alternative is to cram a book with action, which, due to the fact that the characters and events that make up the action have not been properly explored, comes over as empty and lifeless.
    I've no idea whether all this pretentious pondering will actually amount to anything, but it is at least an attitude. Having somewhere solid to stand is very important in the 1980s.

Feb 11, 2021

1984 Journey to US

Excerpt from An impossibly rich celebrity's guide, a piece written by Moore chronicling his journey to New York in 1984. Published in Escape n. 6, 1985.
31st August, Friday
In the morning I meet Frank Miller and we call up at the Marvel offices, a curious place. The people seem friendly enough, but the atmosphere is very different to the informal cheeriness of DC. The centre of the floor is given over to drawing boards and labouring artisans, while the offices leading off from the main area are apparently the kind that you knock and wait at the door of, before entering. This is probably simple company bias on my part, but with Marvel I did get the impression of a company who make the trains run on time. I don't seem to have an awful lot to say to Marvel and they don't seem to have much to say to me.
Afterwards, me and Frank call in at a bar and down some sandwiches and beer. Talking to him, I feel a strong affinity of approach; he tells me about his forthcoming Batman series for DC, his face contorting into the different emotions of his characters as he describes them. This is something I do myself, and it comes from a near-unbalanced degree of involvement. Frank tells me that Howard Chaykin's approach is totally different. Howard is very cool and calculating in his construction, or at least that's how it looks to me. Frank, on the other hand, has a more personal and idiosyncratic touch. Out in the street, I notice a smouldering manhole cover reminiscent of those which populate the New York of Miller's Daredevil. I point it out to Frank and tell him I thought he'd made them up. We say goodbye and I head back to the hotel to meet Karen and the Limo to take me back to Kennedy airport. We stand outside for half an hour but it doesn't arrive. Eventually, Karen has to flag down one of the killer yellow cabs. The driver is a young Hispanic guy with dripping black ringlets in the style of Michael Jackson. He says 'I'll have him at the airport twenty five minutes guaranteed, I like to move, I don't wanna wait around, you know what I mean?' SLAM! The cab takes off on two wheels and I'm splattered against its rear upholstery by the sudden G-force. Outside, the New York landscape flashes by at an oddly tilted angle. Twenty-five minutes later we screech to a halt outside the British Airways terminal. 'Course my best time is twenty minutes!'
I catch my plane. Later I look out of the window, down upon New York and it looks like either a gigantic bird-eating spider fashioned in fairy lights or a luminous man with antlers. Dinner is served. I drink a Scotch and half a bottle of wine and then fall asleep. I awake hours later, just as we approach Heathrow. We land and I make my way through customs and find Jamie Delano waiting to take me home. He asks what America was like and all I can think to tell him about is a bumper sticker that Steve Bissette saw bearing the legend 'I swerve for hallucinations'. I am utterly blank. I've left my heart in San Francisco, my tie pin in the hotel and my brains all over the back seat of a yellow cab at Kennedy airport. As of this writing, my heart has turned up in the mail and I think I can buy a tie pin just like the old one. Why are there no major comic companies in Bali? 

Jan 17, 2021

On celebrity and teen idols

Excerpt from Out on the perimeter, a conversation with Eddie Campbell
Published in Escape n.5 in 1984.
Eddie Campbell: How do you feel about being considered a celebrity?

Alan Moore: I know it's a bit wingey and whiny but sometimes I wish I didn't get quite the scrutiny that I do. When I started out writing, nobody expected me to be any good, so any good stories I did were seen as being really miraculous. But now if I do a story that's average or dull, then I'm sure most people see it as the beginning of the end. In that respect the relationship between the reader and the artist gets a bit twisted. It's no longer straight communication. It's probably something you've got to put up with.

E: But would you have been happier to remain in anonymity as Curt Vile?

A: Probably not and that just exposes my basic dishonesty! I may bitch about all this, but there is something wrong with the medium at the moment. If there were more good strip creators around, there wouldn't be so much unhealthy importance attached to personalities like Frank Miller or on one level me and on another you. There wouldn't be that Messianic glee and fervour and people would be able to look at the work more honestly and judge it independently of the hype surrounding it.

E: I think that's unavoidable, that's human nature.

A: But it's not the same in literature.

E: But it's not so exciting is it?

A: No. It's the youth of the audience that makes what we're doing closer to pop music. Popular culture.

E: Then you have to accept that this is the way it's got to go.

A: Yes, we can be teen idols!

More about Escape, HERE.

Jan 8, 2020

1984 Alan Moore by Stephen R. Bissette

©1984, 2020 Stephen R. Bissette.

Stunning, powerful portrait by the great Stephen R. Bissette posted on this blog with the artist's permission. "Drawn in 1984, shortly after I first met Alan", Bissette said.

Grazie, Steve! ©1984, 2020 Stephen R. Bissette.

Jun 6, 2018

Cthulu rules

Art by Kevin O'Neill.
Above, an Alan Moore "Cthulu" sketch portrait by Kevin O'Neill. From Central Comics Paris' Instagram page.

Feb 28, 2016

1984: Alan Moore about V for Vendetta

Warrion N. 19 (Quality Communications).
Excerpts from an interview published in ZigZag June 1984 issue, conducted by Ian Blake.

"The strip's about a lot of things" he explains: "England, women, fascism, anarchy, personal choice and responsibility, culture, sex, computers, religion... If I had to boil it down to a single statement, it‘s about the fundamental issue of whether we should be governed or not. This, to me, is the only political question worth considering even for an instant.
Please understand that I'm not yet so drug-addled or enthused by my own intellect as to suggest that we're going to reach a solution, or anything like a solution. All I want to do is present the questions as I see them in as interesting a light as possible."


[...] There are even plans afoot to adapt it for television, though as Moore says, "By the time it reaches the screen, 1998 will have come and gone, and people will no doubt view it as a touching and naive example of pre-holocaust optimism.
"Other than that." he adds. "we're in touch with someone who's doing a video presentation of the strip as part of a film school final exam. There‘s also a remote possibility that the whole thing might be turned into a ballet, too. After that I figure on doing it as a set of bubble-gum cards and possibly a novelty sun-visor, but this is all just speculation."

Dec 29, 2015

Evil twin brother of Father Christmas

Photograph: Phil Fisk for the Observer.
Moore's third person autobiography from the pages of The Saga of Swamp Thing N. 25 (1984).

"He currently lives in Northampton, England. For relaxation he enjoys staring at a fixed spot in the middle distance for hours at a time, fainting, and talking about himself in the third person. When he is an old man, he will look like the evil twin brother of Father Christmas."