From Ziggy Stardust, Diamond Dog, and Thin White Duke, to Comic-Book Character

An excerpt from BOWIE: Stardust, Rayguns & Moonage Daydreams. Art by Mike Allred, script by Steve Horton.

I participated in a roundtable review of the beautiful new David Bowie book by Mike Allred and Steve Horton:

“Using the last Ziggy Stardust concert as a framing device, BOWIE: Stardust, Rayguns & Moonage Daydreams traces how Bowie built and rebuilt identities and created innovations that affected music, art, fashion, videos, and even financial products.”

One of the things I like about the book is how Horton and Allred credit those behind the scenes who helped shaped Bowie.

Read more at Sequential Tart.


You are not alone with “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse”

Spider-Man versus Spider-Man from

Over the holidays, I pitched the idea of seeing Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse to an artist friend. She rolled her eyes and said, “I’m sick of Spider-Man.” Admittedly, that was my first reaction to hearing about yet another Spider-Man movie, which is why I hadn’t rushed out to see it on opening weekend. However, since its release, snippets of the innovative animation and friends’ reports that the story was also great convinced me to see it. And it was glorious.

As hyped, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse’s animation is the future: it was crazy beautiful and unlike anything I’d seen before. The story is grounded in realistic characterizations with emotional payoffs that feel earned, not forced. By the time the credits came around, I realized the film had another dimension, and not just because I had just seen the 3D version.

The credits rolled over a background of basically static images of Spider-Man in different scenarios (in an office! rollerskating! moshing!). These scenes were constructed to look like hand-made collages, as if someone had cut up hundreds of copies of the same comic and overlaid copy after copy of the same Spider-Man cut-out onto an artboard. They emphasized the replicability of Spider-Man as a hero in multiple universes (as in the story we just saw), and as a pop culture product, from the millions of Spider-Man comics that have been printed over almost 60 years, to the multiple, and frequent, movie reboots. The Andrew Garfield reboot appeared just five years after the Toby Maguire movies (which Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse references directly in blond Peter Parker’s flashback), and Tom Holland’s Spider-Man debuted two years after Garfield’s last Spider-Movie. Up until then, Hulk notwithstanding, we’d been used to decades between Superman or Batman reboots (the re-cast Batman movies in the Tim Burton era did not constitute re-writes of the Bat-universe).

The handmade look of the collages also reminded me of the notoriously low-budget 1960s Spider-Man animated series, which used the same footage over and over again, and even reused the story and animation cels from a couple of episodes of Rocket Robin Hood, another animated series by the same production house. It was this series which gave the world the gif(t) of two identical Spider-Men pointing at each other. The history of the meme is detailed in Know Your Meme. There is some offensive language associated with the original incarnations of the meme, but, of course, the success of a meme is in its very replicability and malleability. (Stay for the after-credits scene of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, which is basically another iteration of the meme.)

With the theme of replication in mind, the visuals in Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse are not just window dressing. To recap, the movie begins with the familiar story of the Spider-Man we think we’ve known from upteen reboots. It then introduces us to a regular kid in Brooklyn, Miles Morales. Miles is the brainy son of a cop who hates Spider-Man: vigilantes get all the attention when the work of everyday police like himself is overlooked. One day, Miles hangs out with his cool uncle, who takes him through underground to tag a wall by the subway system. It’s there that Miles is bit by a radioactive spider. Later, he is the sole witness to Spider-Man being defeated by Wilson Fisk, who then unmasks the hero. Miles is shocked because of the act; the audience is shocked because this Spider-Man that we thought we knew is actually blond. Then comes a bigger surprise: Fisk kills Spider-Man. It’s early in the film, yet the “hero” is dead. But long live the hero. Fisk’s attempt to create a machine that can breach the time-space continuum to bring back his beloved wife and son also bring different Spider-People to the universe.

The different Spider-People are a lot more distinct than those seen in the end-credit collages. What’s effectively a Spider-Force team includes  Nuyourican Miles Morales; alabaster-complexioned Gwen Stacy from another dimension (who called herself Spider-Woman, but who looked like the comics’ Spider-Gwen); Japanese-American Peni Parker and her mecha sidekick, who are animated in the anime aesthetic; Spider-Ham, a talking pig–actually a spider who was bitten by a radioactive pig (thanks, Dan!)–who is animated like a Looney Tunes cartoon; and a throwback to the pulps named Spider-Man Noir, who is drawn lie a black-and-white pulp anti-hero and voiced by Nicolas Cage, an actor who has a reputation for toughness and an upscale b-movieness (perfectly explored in “Introduction to Teaching”, aka “the Nicholas Cage, Good or Bad” episode of Community).

As much as Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is about a kid who grows to accept a great responsibility, it’s also about comics as a commercial, mass-produced art form. Benday dots, most famously embiggened in Roy Lichtenstein’s 1960s paintings, are deployed throughout as a nod to Spider-Man’s origins in off-set printed comic books. Another print-inspired visual choice are the instances of images that appear to be printed off-register. The resulting image looks like it’s echoing, further reinforcing the theme of duplication. Lettered captions of Miles Morales’s thoughts appear after he is bitten by a radioactive spider, so he thinks in comic-book superhero thought balloons *after* he becomes a comic-book superhero. The film also features visualizations of BIFF, BAM-type onomatopoeic sound effects as another nod to comics, as well as to the similar visual adaptations in the comedic 1960s live-action television series of another superhero, Batman.

Lest you, gentle reader, have harshly judged my friend who rolled her eyes about Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, the film itself raises the question of why we need yet another Spider-Man story. The very first spoken lines in the film are:

“Alright, let’s do this one more time. My name is Peter Parker. I was bitten by a radioactive spider and for ten years I’ve been the one and only Spider-Man. I’m pretty sure you know the rest.”

The line does a couple of interesting things: first, it acknowledges that there have been many reboots—perhaps too many—and, second, that the viewer is tired of them. It was like they were anticipating my response to the announcement of this movie.

The film thus opens up a dialogue with itself, which is really a dialogue with the audience. It goes on to answer its own implied question.

Q: Why do we need another Spider-Man story?

A: So that we don’t feel like we are the only one.

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse has a different Spider-Hero for people at different stages of life, from different countries, of different species. The movie is for people who are differently gendered, who are interpreted through different genres, and who come from different economic backgrounds. Miles, the newest Spider-Man, needs Spider-Man stories to teach him how to be Spider-Man. Peter, the washed-up Spider-Man, needs Spider-Man stories to teach him how to be Spider-Man again.

Immediately after a quick visual recap of iconic scenes from past live-action Spider-Man movies, the blond Spider-Man lists the different iterations of himself that he knows of: “Look, I’m a comic book, I’m a cereal, did a Christmas album. I have an excellent theme song. And a so-so popsicle.” Blond Spider-Man is dismayed about being commoditized, which calls attention to the fact that Spider-Man in our universe is literally a commodity, a piece of intellectual property. Spider-Man in our world is everything that’s shown in the movie: he’s a comic book character; his image has appeared on cereal boxes; there are Spider-Man popsicles; and there actually is a Spider-Man Christmas recording.

Other than the lucky readers who discovered Spider-Man when the character debuted in Marvel Comics in 1961, most people’s first encounter with Spider-Man was with a derivation of the character, be it through subsequent Marvel Comics, television cartoons, or Marvel movies. No one in our world is less of a Spider-Fan for not having read the character’s first appearance at the time of publication. Similarly, in Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, no one is concerned with who might be the “real” Spider-Man. Every Spider-Character feels that their experience is real, and is not threatened by the existence of other Spider-People. In fact, they are comforted by knowing that they are not unique. In contrast to the blond Peter Parker, who sarcastically refers to himself as “the one and only Spider-Man”, the subsequent Spider-People greet each other with the heartfelt phrase of relief: “I thought I was the only one.” It’s not an original statement, but each Spider-Person feels it profoundly. At the end of the movie, Miles reflects: “When I feel alone, like no one understands what I’m going through, I remember my friends who get it.”

I found the film’s willingness to embrace multiplicity (so many Spider-People!), diversity (so many different types of Spider-People!) and community (so many different Spider-People working together!) was very refreshing. As a long-time comic reader, and reader in general, I grew up in the shadow of the baby boomer romanticization of the auteur and the solitary hero. Had the film been made in a different era, it may have spent some time on the question of who was the original or “real” Spider-Man.

I was reminded of Umberto Eco’s essay “Travels in Hyperreality”. (I realize the irony of invoking an essay that is largely about the ersatz world of Disneyland in an essay about a Sony film about replicable intellectual property owned by Marvel, which is owned by Disney.) Eco mentions Superman’s “wunderkammer”, or museum of memorabilia, in the Fortress of Solitude. No one lives there, but the fortress is populated by identical robots that Superman built in his own likeness. The blond Spider-Man in Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse also had a wunderkammer. It doesn’t have Spidey robots, but it does have a gallery of old or alternate costumes. But this collector Spider-Man is dead, and so is the idea of a museum to collect all the official (or canon) Spider-Gizmos, now that it’s known that he is not “the one and only” Spider-Man (he’s not even the first, being ten years younger than Peter B. Parker, the “janky-old, hobo Spider-Man”).

So, who needs a new Spider-Man story? A lot of viewers, apparently! And we are not tired of it. I did eventually convince my artist friend to come along when I went to see the film again. She ended up loving it. As I began to write this piece, she posted on Facebook that she was on her way to see the film a second time. While nearing the end of this essay, I arranged to meet up with another friend for my third viewing, her second viewing, and her partner’s first viewing.

The Spider-Fans are replicating.

Quotes from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse are from my notes, verified by the official script, which the filmmakers have made available online.


Fare Thee Well, Happy Harbor

Me in a Shawna Roe and Jay Bardyla sandwich, just after midnight on New Year’s 2019 at Happy Harbor Comics. Photo: Dean Welsh.

Just before Christmas, Happy Harbor Comics announced that it would be closing. A few days later, it made a second announcement. The plan to close the store was reversed: Happy Harbor had been bought by a northern Alberta games and comics retailer called Wonderland.

These few days prompted a flood of emotions for me. I’ve survived other comic shop closings, and I’ve switched comic shops due to moves by the store or by me. But Happy Habor has been more than a store: it’s also a community, which I hope will continue after the store changes hands.

Under the ownership of Jay Bardyla and Shawna Roe, Happy Harbor has promoted local talent, organized 24-hour comic jams, established a school visit program, created Canada’s first artist-in-residence program for comics, tossed huge parties and celebrations for Free Comic Book Day and other events, hosted readings, talks, autographs, and group gatherings for all things comics and related nerditry.

They also organized an exhibit called Visions of Comics to showcase comics-inspired artwork. After the death of my best friend, arts journalist Gilbert Bouchard, a Happy Harbor supporter and a great promoter of comics as art, the store added the name “Gilbert Bouchard Memorial Art Show” to the title. Thanks to Wonderland keeping the store open, this year’s show will go ahead as planned in March. The theme of the show is Mentors, which is what Gilbert was to me, and what Happy Harbor has been to many a comics artist and fan in Edmonton and beyond, as the store* started in Jasper, Alberta, and ships far and wide.

(*Originally, I committed a typo so this sentence read: “The story started in Jasper, Alberta”. The store *does* have a story, and I’m glad that it will continue in the form of the art show, the artist-in-residence program, and any other activities that will go on in the Happy Harbor corner of the “new” store.)

I have also come to count Shawna and Jay as personal friends of mine. They’ve supported me through some tough times. I’m thrilled that they will be able to turn over their business to a group that has committed to continuing their legacy.

Finally, I thank Jay and Shawna for creating so many excuses for me to write about Happy Harbor or Happy Harbor events. I’ve collected them all in the list of links below (let me know if I’m missing any!). When you look the photos I’ve taken, you’ll notice a familiar background: the Happy Harbor store.

The last official Happy Harbor party takes place tonight. This will be the last gathering of the community the store has built over the past two decades. But it will also be the first celebration to welcome the new owners: Happy Harbor Comics will become Wonderland Edmonton. I think of it as a regeneration event.

About Happy Harbor

Happy Harbor Volume 3, Edmonton, Alberta: From creating a niche to developing a comics community
May 12, 2008

Pop Print 2008: Bridging the Fanboy Brain and the Academic Brain
November 10, 2008

Artist Appearances

A Modern Historical Murder Mystery: Interview with Ben Rankel
July 16, 2018

Developing a Photobooth Biography: Meags Fitzgerald
November 10, 2014

The Nostaligist: Ray Fawkes
July 18, 2011

Friends and Heroes: Nat Jones
June 6, 2011

Andrew Foley Writes Things: On Creepy Comics, Alien Movies and More
November 22, 2010

Visualizing a Pioneering Legend: James Davidge and Bob Prodor
May 17, 2010

Artist-in-Residence Program

From Horses to Horror: Cindy Gauthier
July 30, 2018

Making Her Own New Thing: Catherine Dubois
December 11, 2017

Joanne Wojtysiak: A Gothbunny Recharges as an Artist-in-Residence
January 30, 2017

Comic Book Artist-in-Residence: Daniel Schneider
September 12, 2011

Name Check

I’m including this link as an example of one of the things Happy Harbor has done to support local comics creators: carry their books. Independent artists and publishers can sell their wares online, but it’s important to have the printed works in stores. For a reader looking for something new to check out, the experience of perusing a display of comics, picking them up, flipping through them, and talking to staff about them is invaluable.

The Anthology Project: Joy Ang and Nick Thornborrow
June 28, 2010

Happy Harbor / Wonderland Edmonton

Btw, here is the store’s website!


Art and the City


I recently had the pleasure of reading N. K. Jemisin short story, “The Great City Born”. In her world, cities go through a life cycle. Some cities may gestate for a very long time without being born, but when a city is ready to be birthed, it chooses an avatar, a kind of midwife. The avatar is a human being who can hear the city breathing and feel what the city feels. The person eventually becomes the city in a kind of multiple state of being that is well-conveyed by Jemisin’s poetic fiction.

The story was fascinating, and especially appealed to me as a fan of the WildStorm comic The Authority (created by Warren Ellis and Bryan Hitch, and elaborated upon by subsequent creative teams). The Authority was a group of unlikely superheroes led by Jenny Sparks, the human embodiment of “the spirit of the 20th century”, and is probably most famous for including the gay couple Apollo and Midnighter, who were analogues of Superman and Batman. One of the other team members, Jack Hawksmoor, had the ability to talk to cities, but it was not a natural superpower, nor was it one that he agreed to acquiring. As a child, Jack was weaponized by 70th century humans who subjected him to painful body modifications that gave him the ability to fight a future monster by harnessing cities’ power. Jack–whose namesake is the English Baroque architect Nicholas Hawksmoor–could communicate with cities, but they remained separate entities.

Jack Hawksmoor was built infrastructure, a human-engineered city utility meant to work with other human-engineered city utilities. In Jemisin’s world, cities and humans live  symbiotically in a natural ecosystem: humans build cities that contain humans; cities choose which humans can contain cities.

I like the way cities are presented in both works. They are technological and biological, engineered and natural. Cities are the work of humans and they work with humans. Cities and humans shape each other.

This is the type of work I want to explore in this blog. I’m  interested in the relationship between art and cities: how art portrays the city; how cities affect the making, presentation, and perception of art; and experiencing art and my city. Arts City is in its infancy. I’m looking forward to see what happens as we grow together.

“The City Born Great” is collected in Worlds Seen in Passing: Ten Years of Short Fiction. It can also be read online at or via Kindle.

Jack Hawksmoor starred in his own mini-series, Secret History of The Authority: Jack Hawksmoor, by writer Mike Costa and artist Fiona Staples. Here’s an interview I did with Fiona before Saga and soon after the Hawksmoor series wrapped up in 2009.

Comics, Interviews

What if…?


Great stories inspire lasting questions. For artist Cindy Gauthier, watching The Night of the Living Dead as a child left her wondering, “What if there’s something coming back from the graveyard down the road?” Now, Cindy is creating horror comics. She’s wrapping up a term as the artist-in-residence at Happy Harbor Comics. I got to interview her about her inspirations and about her work for Sequential Tart:



Wayward Sisters

waywardsisters-coverKickstarter anthologies have become an important–and fun–way for female cartoonists to get their work out in the world.

This spring, Wayward Sisters: An Anthology of Monstrous Women will haunt bookstores with 224 pages of beautiful and fascinating comics about female monsters, by female writers and artists.

Anthology editor Allison O’Toole and contributors Emmanuelle Chateauneuf, Janice Liu, and Cassandra Khaw kindly took time out to answer my questions about the anthology and their contributions to it for Sequential Tart.