Since their ostensible beginnings as passing amusements in the pages of 19th century newspapers, comics have had their peaks (the praises heaped upon George Herriman's Krazy Kat by the literati of the 1920s and 30s; Art Spiegelman's Pulitzer Prize for Maus) and valleys (Frederic Wertham's Seduction of the Innocent) when it has come to acceptance as a genuine art. The slow rise in recognition the graphic novel has received over the course of the past two decades (from Watchmen and Maus to Jimmy Corrigan and Asterios Polyp) has gone a long way toward a wider acceptance of the form. With the publication of Abstract Comics: The Anthology, comics may be moving definitively in the direction of art-as-a-given territory and away from "comics aren't just for kids anymore" qualifiers.
When approaching Abstract Comics some reader reorientation may be required. Robert S. Peterson laments in his review that he was hoping for a book he could "open up and pour over" in the same manner he would Tom Phillips' A Humument (a brilliant piece of visual poetry). The reason for this defeated expectation may lie in the optimal method of digestion of one work vs the other. While A Humument may bear some resemblance to the works on display in Abstract Comics, it is a book composed of both words and pictures with the latter being composed of pictures exclusively. You can read A Humument as you would any work of comics, reading text while simultaneously taking in visuals. Reading Abstract Comics requires a different process of digestion as the normal vehicle of assimilating a narrative (text) is absent. The reader is not even aided by the presence of representational visuals as one might be in a more typical wordless comic or woodcut novel. You should approach these works in a manner similar to the way you might view a painting or sculpture. Look. Stare. Spend some time with each panel. See what it has to say. Think about it one way then another. There's nothing to decipher in the sense of a decoder ring or elaborate puzzle.
The range of works here are impressive. Some standouts for me (along with some subjective interpretations and comparisons) include: Blaise Larmee's I Would Like to Live There, a minimal but highly evocative piece, suggesting a lonely but inviting world of life just outside a city (possibly a homeless encampment); Derik Badman's Flying Chief, simple and meditative, it reminds me of Asian woodblock prints (it's also interesting from a formal perspective as detailed in the artist's bio); Mark Badger's Kung Fu (the original 1980 version), another interesting formal experiment, reminds me of that most comics-like of Cubist works, Duchamp's Nude Descending A Staircase; editor Andrei Molotiu's The Panic is the closest piece here that brings to mind the psychic energy of Kirby-style superhero comics with its heavy chaotic blacks over luminous colors; and Janusz Jaworski's various pieces that come off like comic strips from the Codex Seraphinianus.
The only complaint I can make is that the book may be too short. Full pages of the precursor paintings that are reproduced small in the introduction (a Google image search fails to reveal Jasper Johns' Alley Oop) and the addition of a semi-lengthy piece (15-25 pages or so) could possibly have provided a fuller picture of abstract comics' abilities. Regardless, this is a small quibble with a book that may represent a course change in how comics are perceived and produced in the coming years.
Paul, I should add, is the creator behind the wonderful conceptual comic Codex Optica:
Then there is John Hogan's great review at Graphic Novel Reporter:
...Molotiu has created a fun and accessible anthology here, one that’s smart and well-researched but not in the slightest bit obtuse. You don’t need to be an art snob to appreciate it; you just need an open mind. With that, the reward for Abstract Comics is quite lovely. And quite possibly a good opportunity for you to increase your appreciation for the comics format exponentially.
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