PERFORMANCE IN COMICS

by

Blaise Larmee


"I invented one bad character but he’s only acting, he comes in and acts the bad parts in my stories, then he goes home and he’s nice."
-Gary Panter



Performance is perhaps the most overlooked element in comics criticism today. It is the boogie man among indie creators who seek "unmediated expression" and it is indistinguishable from nonperformance in super-mainstream comics. In fact it is difficult to say there exists a nonperformative space in comics at all, since the entire reality of comics exists only in the mind of the reader and the creator. In this case each performance could be considered a performance within a performance, but this is not so different than performance in the "real world," in which we often see ourselves as characters.




I believe in a performative reality. Let's forget for a moment the "reality" that comics are ink on paper and speak instead in the naively functionist view that comics are a space that house characters and the actors who actively portray them. In this space we can talk about performance and nonperformance and characters assume some measure of agency in the creative process, as do the actors who portray them.




So too, can the reader, for performance lies within the reader as much as any of the actors (or the creator, for that matter). When the reader is at a distance, flipping through pages, the characters look like cartoons - performing exaggerated or stylized versions of reality. The reader can impose whatever dialogue they wish upon the scenes and emotions stay thin and fluid. As the reader lingers, and as emotions coagulate, these characters start to believe their own roles and the reader takes on a role herself.




In "Lubavitch, Ukraine, 1876," Sammy Harkham takes on the twin roles of viewer and performer. It's a fantastic and admitedly cathartic performance -- both inward and outward, experienced in creation as a dance within a flexible, nuanced structure (similar to that of a dream) and experienced in retrospect as a combination of false memory and document. It exists, as all comics do, in some balance of mental and physical. I forget who said this, but it's a lovely quote: "The beauty of art is that it allows introverts to be extroverted."




There is a section of "Christina and Charles" by Austin English in which the reader is asked to participate on a sonic level - a raw and emotive layer of the story in which the viewer assumes an empowingly naive performance of a jazz ensemble. Whereas most creators focus on the diagesis and mise-en-scene, some art comics practitioners will acknowledge their actors by allowing or encouraging slip-ups, ad-libs, and roleplay. Austin English's actors are terribly inexpressive, but he shows their inexpression in extreme detail, making their reality as actors seem almost tangible. In this context the text (narrative) and images (actors) are not only separate but even oppositional, creating a oddly dynamic interplay.






CF is the most active explorer of performance in comics right now. In "Powr Mastrs" he is constantly questioning and queering the actor-character relationships one finds within. Because his characters are aware of the make-believe aspects of their performance, the actors who portray them become characters themselves and vice versa. The resulting characters are infinitely complex - seen in a hall of mirrors in which the character and actor are indistinguishable. The story begins with one of the characters, Subra Ptareo, imagining he is actually the persona he created. His idea of a nonperformative reality is quickly (and constantly) interrupted, and often serves as the butt of a joke. The reader can feel comfortable with these characters' travails, since they are only performances, but the reader also worries about the actors involved (who, of course, are themselves characters). CF seems to side with the idea that everything is performance, but then the reverse becomes true as well - nothing is performance. The ramifications of that in a comic - a completely performative experience - are transcendent.




CF and others are helping performance find its way into comics dialogues otherwise dominated by a binary of formalist (object, image, grammar) and diagetic (plot, characters) language. Performance is the space that lies in-between - a very grey space in which agency and reality are ambiguous at best. A certain degree of disbelief is required upon entry.

Coming up: Movement and Stasis

Images used: drawing by penifikko, panels from "Rock Paper Scissors" by Sam Gaskin, panel from "Luther and Johnny" by CF, panels from "Lubavitch, Ukraine, 1876" by Sammy Harkham, panel from "In the Museum" by Austin English, panel from Powr Mastrs by CF, Zine cover by Himaa published by Nieves

3 comments:

Uland said...

hmmm... I dunno man. I'm having a hard time making a meaningful distinction between "performative" v "non-performative" reality.
If the subject at hand is simply how creators choose to make their characters "perform" and to what end, I guess I just see it all in the same light. I don't know how the distinctions you've made are to be distinguished from the same kind of projection that all narratives require, from telling a fart joke, to recounting a dream, to writing a novel, to making a movie,etc., etc.,

Jason Overby said...

I think that's the hard part of making fiction in general, especially in comics. I've tended to want to only make autobiography or cipher-driven, quasi-plot-oriented stories because I have a difficult time making fiction, couching my experiences within narratives, essentializing them into meaning. Autobiography is so weird in comics, though, because of the artificiality of the medium. It takes time to draw these things so there's always some amount of mediation between an experience and relating it. Maybe this is what Blaise is getting at - there is always performance/nonperformance in our existence in the world as human beings. There are performative aspects we control through our agency (smiling to make someone feel better, drawing an arm a specific way to suggest an action or build a formal structure) and nonperformative spots we don't (staring open-mouthed, drawing an arm that unintentionally looks like a dick). How the fuck can you be honest? What does that even mean?

Jason Overby said...

And what CF seems to be tapping into is how our personalities, even our identities, are this perfect mixture of the Zarathustran and the incidental.