05/15/23: Duck, Comics!

And some thoughts about formatting them.

Hey y’all,

It’s been a busy couple of weeks preparing for what feels like it could be a busy summer. But today I’m back. And I brought a new comic:

What can I say— sometimes you just gotta draw a duck. A duck who went to school far too long to put up with such disrespect.

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Anyway, setting aside any artistic or comedic merit this little comic may possess or lack, what I find constantly intriguing about publishing comics in the present day is the endless variations in presentation that are now available and what’s required to adapt to them.

I’m not the first person to read WATCHMEN and then try to impress people by calling printed comics a time machine. Because comics so often present several images at once, the reader can see what lies ahead or behind on nearly every page. As a result one of the invisible skills of any creative team, and in specific any artist, is knowing how to compose a page that keeps a reader present and engaged. To visually present a story that leads your eye and your attention to the correct panel, in the correct order, at the correct pace.

Now all of that might sound overly obvious, but you have to remember that this is a problem unique to printed comics. In movies or video games, images are generally presented one at a time. You don’t usually skip ahead in a story you’ve never watched.

(Above: Quack as composed for a traditional printed comics page.)

Today, we read comics in all kinds of places. Yes, phones and tablets— but also though the endless web formats and apps on those devices— each of which have their own native presentations and functions. Take this newsletter, for example, where I often choose to go with a vertical stack of panels. A format that uses the scroll of a blog to reduce the reader's ability to skip ahead (to the punchline as it were), but can also make the ability to compose a traditional page feel like overkill.

Another example is Instagram’s image carousel. A format that (to my mind) offers a better take on the advantages of a vertical scroll comic— because it allows the reader to move from one image to the next at their own pace. And to some extent returns to the cartoonist the power of timing and surprise. Still, for all of IG’s potential it’s unfortunately limited by the app’s image size, and 10-slide limitation, and inability to easily grant a reader access to a multipart story.

(Above: “QUACK” formatted as a horizontal comic strip. Though this might seem to match the presentation used in a digital carousel, it required me to “cheat” and flip panel 3, so that Quack is easier to follow down the hallway.)

What creators often take away from all these variables— is crippling indecision. Or worse a commitment to the dogmatic march down the same old comfortable trails.

What I find most frustrating about that latter mindset is that one of the great benefits of learning to make printed comics is the experience and expertise you gain in creating reader participation. The physical limitations of a printed comics canvas have allowed for, (hell almost required), some truly wild experiments in page layout and design. In visual storytelling. But more importantly those limitations have refined the sleight of hand and subtly required to keep an audience engaged in a story that they can literally already see the end of.

Experienced readers and creators are trained puzzle masters. So much so that sometimes the story itself becomes secondary to the sensory overload of how dazzlingly it’s told. And when we look at what’s available to us on a digital canvas— it’s all too easy to think of the top end of that puzzle making potential. About how complex a comic could become by adding moving images or graphics. The potential swirl of images and information that could push and pull and drown a reader like the ocean tide. 

But what is often forgotten in digital comics, especially by people moving over from the traditional approaches, is the ask. The request for participation. We’re often so tied up in drawing something exciting or seemingly game-changing that we forget to guide the experience. Our desire for complexity kills clarity. Which is a real shame, because what a vertical scroll, carousel, or even Infinite comics (more on these one day) offer as a format — are fewer obstacles for the untrained reader. 

(Continued below images…)

(ABOVE: FIG 1: QUACK as a simple thumbnail layout, most effective for a carousel, side scroll, or traditional comic strip format. The gag and timing remain simple. The flatness of POV could have created an observational, matter-of-fact tone. But would lack any sense of setting. Something I felt was essential to selling this as Dr. Quack’s everyday routine and reality. Also, it’s hard to re-edit as a vertical stack— because the figures end up feeling motionless. Which kind of kills the illusion of a duck making his hospital rounds.)

( ABOVE: FIG 2: an example of simple composition for a holistic comic. While the 2x2 grid is optimal for a printed page— the composition is designed to keep our focus on Dr. Quack and his POV. The intention is to simultaneously guide the reader through the interior geography of the hospital and the reading order of the page. It felt important that we experience Quack’s rounds and the reveal of the gag as the character would. It also is easier to rearrange and keep the sense of movement that this little journey around the hospital requires.)

As someone whose work began on a printed page— I’m not immune to any of this. As much, if not more than anyone, I‘ve trained myself to always think about comics as a (perhaps overly) complex and holistic unit. 

And while it scares me to admit that I may have sunken incalculable time and cost into approaches that may be outdated or needlessly isolating— I think it’s always more beneficial to consider how what I already know can help me to grow. 

Understanding how AND why my images hang together to tell my stupid duck gags not only allows me to more effectively reorganize them for different formats— but forces me to think about all those little car crashes between context and intention. Between what I can control and what I can’t. To me, that’s what communication is. And in this post-apocalyptic, meth fueled Walmart aisle we call the internet— communicating effectively seems more important than ever. 

jasonlatour

A post shared by Jason Latour (@jasonlatour)

(Above: QUACK as formatted for IG carousel. My preferred iteration.)

Still, I gotta warn you— that even if you buy into all this grand theory and philosophy— know that doing any of this is like reading someone their horoscope. 

At the end of the day, it’s on the audience to choose to buy into your bullshit or not. 

Thanks for humoring mine. 

More soon… 

-j