No laughing matter
Brendan Burford likes to say he created âSyncopatedâ because he wanted to do for comics what Joseph Mitchell did for journalism. After self-publishing three volumes over five years, Burfordâs thoughtful artistic experiment -- I love that he calls them picto-essays -- has been picked up by Random House. âSyncopatedâ shows us the subtleties available in a medium best known for POW-BOP-BANG: âSyncopatedâ is the graphic narrative equivalent of slow food.
These hand-drawn, hand-lettered, black-and-white comics by a variety of writers teach the readerâs eyes to adjust from the glaring colors of bright sunlight to something more gentle. After reading through Nick Bertozziâs picto-essays that quietly explain hay-baling -- âNails were bitten watching the night skies looking for clues into the next days weatherâ -- we come across Tricia Van den Berghâs wordless study of Washington Square Park at various times of day. (Like Mitchell, Burford has an abiding love of New York City.) The early pieces focus our eyes, showing us how the art deco park lights, drawn as orbs with radiating lines, glow in the suggested twilight. Buildings are both rectangular juggernauts and squarish phantoms. Despite its lack of human forms, the piece is completely satisfying.
Yet this collection contains more than stylized musings. Somewhat reminiscent of artist Kara Walkerâs work (though far more rough), Greg Cook has taken material from the FBIâs oral histories of Guantanamo Bay and created a narrative, illustrated in silhouettes. We see a hapless figure beaten and forced to watch a woman squat over a Koran; then he lies frozen, shivering on the ground. âMost times they had urinated or defecated on themselves, and had been left thereâ -- words without the human form would not convey the horror, but realistic images would be a further violation. Shadow figures may be the most dignified way to narrate torture.
Also touching is Paul Karasikâs short piece on psychologist Erik Eriksonâs hugely influential theory of development. Karasik, who helped adapt Paul Austerâs âCity of Glassâ into a successful graphic novel, sandwiches Eriksonâs famous Eight Stages between two disturbing stories from Eriksonâs life. This causes us to question the psychological paradigm yet gives it a living, breathing context:
There are a few missteps. A series on subway buskers feels amateurish, and a narrative about development in Coney Island adds nothing new to familiar arguments. But what remains is a sense of something quiet that, unlike in other comics, does not foist itself upon you and yet has gravitas. The contemporary eye (your eye, my eye) is well-educated in the cartoon image. For three generations, weâve stared at balloony, sketchy figures, learned to gather in their nuances. What weâre not used to is looking at them and finding depth. âSyncopatedâ is another step in the maturation of the art form. Reading it is like listening to a simple music and realizing how wonderful melody can be.
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