Malachi Ward Ritual #2: The Reverie: The Most Powerful Wish Dimension Ever Discovered

A Dream Machine

Malachi Ward's Ritual #2: The Reverie is a fantastic look at dread, loss and family trauma. It organically integrates it's science fiction element and allows the reader to focus on the drama that unfolds. I was thoroughly impressed by this comic book. I read it this summer in San Francisco (Thanks to the amazing inventory skills of Mission: Comics & Arts) and it has been in the back of my mind ever since. 

We follow the story of Lina and Stevin, two siblings whose life is told over 22 years. We see them grow from mischievous kids to blasé teenagers. As a teenage boy, Stevin didn't really care about listening to his dad on a "take your kids to work day", where he talked about the exciting sci-fi complex where he works. We feel their pain as young adults they lose their mother to a serious illness (most likely cancer). Their family is shaken so solidly, that they are never quite able to move on. Their father has been completely swallowed by grief and time would not heal his wounds. Six years after their mother's passing, when Lina returns home to visit her brother Stevin, she notices her father sitting silently in the dark living room, completely overcome with grief. Three years after that and the pain still bleeds like an open wound. After a party where he drunkenly mistakes his sister-in-law for his wife, he retreats and disappears completely, leaving Stevin and Lina struggling to locate him.

Open Wounds

The pieces all come together in the second half of the book as Stevin and Lina attempts to rescue their father. He has taken refuge in The Reverie, "The most powerful wish dimension ever discovered". He had access to this machine at his work and his friend, unable to refuse him access after seeing his pain, allowed him to take refuge inside for months. Stevin and Lina venture into the machine to retrieve him, and I will give no further details. Needless to say, this trip ends poorly for all involved.

The Reverie

The book is divided into two sections: the first uses a condensed time frame and follows a strict form, while the second is on on white paper and is much looser in terms of page structure. In the first half, each page has 12 panels, black gutters and black paper. The strict adherence to this form seem to represent history: a dark immovable, unchangeable past. The dread and family trauma forever permeats the children's formative years. The second half`s looser structure indicates the present and it's mutability and uncertainty.

Flexibility of the Present

Ward manages to create recognizable characters from childhood to adulthood. They evolved and are recognizable over time. Stevin matures through the story. We see him evolve from an aimless troublemaker to a son who genuinely cares about the well-being of his family. His physical form also matures throughout the story, yet he remains recognizable throughout. The creation of the dream landscapes were nice to see, but what really struck me was how well the characters were handled throughout the book. The focus, both from the story and from the art emphasize that this is first and foremost, a character study in depression, grief and family trauma.

Grief

Ritual appears to be self contained. I've read Ritual #3 and although some sci-fi elements are included, it had no relations to the previous issue. If you are so fortunate as to find a copy of Ritual anywhere, grab it. You will not be disappointed.

Roman Muradov: Picnic Ruined: Undeniable Talent, Unbelievable Pretention

Talent and Failure in one convenient package

A fantastic recommendation from the tall fellow at Mission: Comics & Art in San Francisco. Picnic Ruined is my first experience with Roman Muradov's work (he of the Tolstoy Google Doodle from 24/09/2014) and, oh boy, was it a mixed bag. There is clear talent and mastery in the art, but the story it illustrates is so weak, it's painful at times.

Picnic Ruined tells the story of an artist who feels worthless and pathetic. His life is dedicated to art, but his failures are always at the forefront of his mind. Self-loathing seems to be the main motivator for the lead characters. We meet a genuinely annoying man whose sole problem appears to be self-created. He blames everyone and no one for his failure. It all feels terribly banal and full of platitudes. He is smug artist (or someone with artistic inclinations) who thinks he is better than everyone else. He talks constantly about how the world has failed him and how he has failed it. This character`s woes are that he has too much, knows too much and has too much ambition. And yet he suffers because all the doors are open, and he doesn't know which one to take. So desperate from knowing he can accomplish anything, yet he`s not decisive enough to pick. What a trite and dull story.

Fortunately for the reader, there are some redeeming qualities.

The art is superb.

This is a masterpiece in comic-making. Muradov's layout is freeflowing throughout the book. Thoughts are given abstract form. Memories, and the inability to remember somethig properly, are illustrated so well. State of mind becomes visually alive in this book. The use of black and white here is also wonderful. It combines many artistic methods and manipulates them on the same page. The art is expressive and magnificient. Yet as I read Picnic Ruined, one question kept coming to my mind. Is art enough to anchor a comic book? 

I will seek out Muradov's other book cautiously. Perhaps his other efforts at a story won't be as misguided as in this book. I'll come around to reading (In a Sense) Lost & Found in the future. At the very least, it will be pretty to look at.

Justine Reyes' Planet Claire: Abstraction, Celestial Bodies and Meaning

Ice Cold Planet

I visited San Francisco a few weeks ago and went on a hunt for the best comic book I could find. I was surprised to find a bin of floppies with lots of independent comics at Dog Eared Books. One of the coolest finds was a comic with three different covers called "Planet Claire" by Justine Reyes. Having no knowledge of what this was, I picked up a copy and read it later that night. Then a second time, and a third time. And a few more times the day after. Why did I read it so much and what is Planet Claire?

Planet Claire is a planet, a celestial body with human features. All that can be found on the planet is undeniably humanoid in it's own unique and strange way. Headless or limbless rests atop abstract background. 3-eyed busts are surrounded with stars. Rainbow-summoning Ballerina, naked women and creepy dolls are also present on it's surface. Then, it's over.

What interested me about this short comic, was the realization that I created meaning for myself and upon multiple readings, this meaning changed and evolved. I was consciously making an effort to find a different meaning with every read. As I browsed through the small and unkept bin from Dog Eared Books, I noticed that there were multiple colours for the cover of Planet Claire. I purposefully bought the blue cover. The pink cover seemed too bright and nausea-inducing with a fluorescent shade I just couldn't stomach. There was also a bright fluorescent yellow cover as well. I didn't pick it either as I use that kind of highlighter colour every day at work and am just generally sick of looking at it. So I picked up the blue cover and I can't help but noticing that it affected my reading and understanding of the book. I immediately associated the planet with ice-like qualities; it's human form frozen in its abstraction. A blue that evoked it's skies, it's ocean, and maybe a bit of melancholy. Perhaps I would feel differently had I picked a yellow cover. I may have attributed more warmth and happiness, maybe even some sunny attributes. 

In the end, meaning was established which rendered my questions meaningless. But the process to create meaning out of this book was exhilarating. It wasn't a phenomenal book, but a haunting one.

After all this, I was intrigued. I thought about the process of interpretation I went through (more on that below). I tried finding information on this book online and came up empty-handed. My only lead to know more was the email address at the back of the book. I contacted the artist and she was kind enough to provide some insight on the comic. She was able to explain that "Planet Claire" was a nod to women and girls. Through this book, she played with themes and icons involving females, which was something I didn't realize when reading. It was meant as an empowering comic for women as she explained: "women are not usually represented with such masculinity and power as often as men are."

Not matter what meaning or interpretation one will gain this book, it will be your own, guided through the lens of strange patterns. Check out Justine Reyes's book here.