January 20, 2005
MacHallmighty
In my copious spare time, I've been working on some essays. Here's an article I'm writing about my favorite web comic. I'll be finishing it up this week, but wanted to publish what I have so far.
***
I'm reluctant to write about comics. They're not really my thing - I like them much the way I like popcorn: consumed when I'm in the mood for bold-stroke entertainment and then only in handfuls. I'm largely outside the comic book metaverse, uninformed of context and trivia at the immediate recall of the most cursory of fanboys. But when a good comic comes around, it can capture my sustained interest. But it's gotta be pretty damn good.
Still, this is a golden age for young artists. The Internet has proven a boon for webcomics and other, less-traditional forms of graphic storytelling. Like this weblog, anyone can create and publish a rudimentary webcomic with minimal effort. New technologies are enabling comics of uncommon inventiveness. Some of these - like the sorely missed Leisure Town - are already the stuff of legend. Other comics, like the left-of-sarcastic (and usually dead-on) This Modern World have found an audience on the web only after a previous or concurrent life of "legitimate" distrbution in print.
Most printed newspaper comics hit the ground largely formed on a professional publication schedule complete with deadlines. On the web, however, comics are born, live, and die with little professional direction, for better and for worse. Crossover appeal is nearly nonexistant. Some flourish in their own niche and work well (like the defunct Boy Meets Boy). Few manage to outlast the lifespan of a bottle rocket. The net is littered with the burnt-out shell casings of comics that didn't catch fire, that lost the interest of its readers or its own artist (for a better perspective on these one-season web comics and other disasters, check out How Not To Run A Web Comic).
As amateurs quickly discover, the work and commitment in publishing a strip, even twice weekly, is astronomical. Navigating the logistics of self-publishing is a monumental battle that comes in addition to the creative sweating that produces the product. Making one or the other work is hard enough, but the ability to make both aspects work and grow is downright Herculean. For this reason and others, it's my opinion that MacHall [http://www.machall.com] by Matthew Boyd and Ian McConville is the best web comic out there right now.
I've read MacHall semi-regularly since late 2001 (it started about a year before I got to it), and I've followed the strip's evolution as it's grown more sophisticated. At the dawn of 2005, MacHall is an inspiration: a professional, grounded, beautifully-drawn, deeply observant, and wildly inventive slice-of-life as viwed through the skewed lens of academia, fandom, and 21st Century digital geekery. Mac Hall achieves an alchemy that's greater than the sum of its parts and places the bi-weekly tales of life in the sphere of its authors up there with the best of the professionals.
Creative duos often follow archetypes of a dreamer and an anchor: Lennon and McCartney, Walt and Roy Disney. There's an undeniable magic to high-chemistry collaboration, and Matt Boyd (the writer/anchor) and Ian McConville (the visual artist/dreamer) are the real deal. They make the whole thing work, and then some. Over the five years they've worked together, they've seized important opportunities, endured great frustration, and sacrificed a lot of time toward keeping the project afloat and continually developing.
Boyd and McConville have learned to balance art and commerce, fantasy and reality, school and hobby - in full view of their readers. The strip is published with a quasi-weblog that features candid and occasionally confessional commentary from either creator, often both. This transcends the strip alone: MacHall is a rare view into its ever-evolving, ephemeral creative process. Imagine if Bill Waterston had such foresight or technological serendipity during the genesis of "Calvin and Hobbes."
Ambition and potential are evident all over the project. In addition to the strip, the MacHall website and store, supervised largely by Boyd, distributes limited edition t-shirts, mousepads, and now a book of the early strips. Profits are modest, but good beginnings nearly always are.
The art of MacHall is some of the most gorgeous-looking stuff you'll see on the web or in print. Ian McConville is an artistic talent in the process of refining a clear and powerful visual voice. The guy is so good, so damn good, that I'd buy stock in his future success if they had such a thing. Some have called his style derivitive, which is truly myopic. McConville is, like the young remix culture he reflects, a master of artful synthesis. McConville's Visual influences are worn proudly, without irony: video games, Bill Waterson, classic and modern Disney, Don Bluth, Johnen Vasquez, Garry Trudeau, Japanese anime of every style from Astroboy to Otomo, even Charles Shultz.
McConville, through what appears to be a combination of hand-drawing and various software apps, folds these styles into his own in inventive, illuminating ways. Occasionally, the look of the comic changes from strip-to-strip, sometimes panel-to-panel. Luminous and vivid visuals, lush with color, are everywhere, often appearing at right angles to outwardly banal plotting and languid action. I mean, just look at this thing [http://www.machall.com/index.php?strip_id=293].
This is no slight against Boyd, the duo's primary writer. A comic strip about college life that features little action and plot rings true. I've come to understand academia, like filmmaking, as frenzied pockets of busyness interspersed with long stretches of boredom, obligations, and routine. Most college students I know live, by necessity, in the now. The story arc of University life is revealed only by time and and the wisdom of retrospect.
I read in a review White Stripes "White Blood Cells" in which the writer suggested the strength of Meg White's drumming comes from knowing when not to play. Boyd's stories are like that. Webcomics are full of two-dimensional characters (no pun intended) that exist to deliver overexpository dialog that have the cadence and tone of frat jokes. This was true of MacHall to some extent in the beginning, but Boyd's skills have broadened in depth and in understanding of the elements of personality. His restraint is remarkable. He assumes his audience will stick with understated, whimsical, nonsensical panels. And we do, because ourreward is never spared.
Boyd may have in him the labyrinthine plots and epic story arcs of paper-published graphic novelists. Time will tell. What MacHall makes clear is that Boyd is a keen and deeply sensitive observer. MacHall mercifully spares us saga in favor of colorful character study. His ability to find the elements of personality and to read the humorous wisdom in banal and silly everyday humdrum is something special.
(to be continued...)
***
I'm reluctant to write about comics. They're not really my thing - I like them much the way I like popcorn: consumed when I'm in the mood for bold-stroke entertainment and then only in handfuls. I'm largely outside the comic book metaverse, uninformed of context and trivia at the immediate recall of the most cursory of fanboys. But when a good comic comes around, it can capture my sustained interest. But it's gotta be pretty damn good.
Still, this is a golden age for young artists. The Internet has proven a boon for webcomics and other, less-traditional forms of graphic storytelling. Like this weblog, anyone can create and publish a rudimentary webcomic with minimal effort. New technologies are enabling comics of uncommon inventiveness. Some of these - like the sorely missed Leisure Town - are already the stuff of legend. Other comics, like the left-of-sarcastic (and usually dead-on) This Modern World have found an audience on the web only after a previous or concurrent life of "legitimate" distrbution in print.
Most printed newspaper comics hit the ground largely formed on a professional publication schedule complete with deadlines. On the web, however, comics are born, live, and die with little professional direction, for better and for worse. Crossover appeal is nearly nonexistant. Some flourish in their own niche and work well (like the defunct Boy Meets Boy). Few manage to outlast the lifespan of a bottle rocket. The net is littered with the burnt-out shell casings of comics that didn't catch fire, that lost the interest of its readers or its own artist (for a better perspective on these one-season web comics and other disasters, check out How Not To Run A Web Comic).
As amateurs quickly discover, the work and commitment in publishing a strip, even twice weekly, is astronomical. Navigating the logistics of self-publishing is a monumental battle that comes in addition to the creative sweating that produces the product. Making one or the other work is hard enough, but the ability to make both aspects work and grow is downright Herculean. For this reason and others, it's my opinion that MacHall [http://www.machall.com] by Matthew Boyd and Ian McConville is the best web comic out there right now.
I've read MacHall semi-regularly since late 2001 (it started about a year before I got to it), and I've followed the strip's evolution as it's grown more sophisticated. At the dawn of 2005, MacHall is an inspiration: a professional, grounded, beautifully-drawn, deeply observant, and wildly inventive slice-of-life as viwed through the skewed lens of academia, fandom, and 21st Century digital geekery. Mac Hall achieves an alchemy that's greater than the sum of its parts and places the bi-weekly tales of life in the sphere of its authors up there with the best of the professionals.
Creative duos often follow archetypes of a dreamer and an anchor: Lennon and McCartney, Walt and Roy Disney. There's an undeniable magic to high-chemistry collaboration, and Matt Boyd (the writer/anchor) and Ian McConville (the visual artist/dreamer) are the real deal. They make the whole thing work, and then some. Over the five years they've worked together, they've seized important opportunities, endured great frustration, and sacrificed a lot of time toward keeping the project afloat and continually developing.
Boyd and McConville have learned to balance art and commerce, fantasy and reality, school and hobby - in full view of their readers. The strip is published with a quasi-weblog that features candid and occasionally confessional commentary from either creator, often both. This transcends the strip alone: MacHall is a rare view into its ever-evolving, ephemeral creative process. Imagine if Bill Waterston had such foresight or technological serendipity during the genesis of "Calvin and Hobbes."
Ambition and potential are evident all over the project. In addition to the strip, the MacHall website and store, supervised largely by Boyd, distributes limited edition t-shirts, mousepads, and now a book of the early strips. Profits are modest, but good beginnings nearly always are.
The art of MacHall is some of the most gorgeous-looking stuff you'll see on the web or in print. Ian McConville is an artistic talent in the process of refining a clear and powerful visual voice. The guy is so good, so damn good, that I'd buy stock in his future success if they had such a thing. Some have called his style derivitive, which is truly myopic. McConville is, like the young remix culture he reflects, a master of artful synthesis. McConville's Visual influences are worn proudly, without irony: video games, Bill Waterson, classic and modern Disney, Don Bluth, Johnen Vasquez, Garry Trudeau, Japanese anime of every style from Astroboy to Otomo, even Charles Shultz.
McConville, through what appears to be a combination of hand-drawing and various software apps, folds these styles into his own in inventive, illuminating ways. Occasionally, the look of the comic changes from strip-to-strip, sometimes panel-to-panel. Luminous and vivid visuals, lush with color, are everywhere, often appearing at right angles to outwardly banal plotting and languid action. I mean, just look at this thing [http://www.machall.com/index.php?strip_id=293].
This is no slight against Boyd, the duo's primary writer. A comic strip about college life that features little action and plot rings true. I've come to understand academia, like filmmaking, as frenzied pockets of busyness interspersed with long stretches of boredom, obligations, and routine. Most college students I know live, by necessity, in the now. The story arc of University life is revealed only by time and and the wisdom of retrospect.
I read in a review White Stripes "White Blood Cells" in which the writer suggested the strength of Meg White's drumming comes from knowing when not to play. Boyd's stories are like that. Webcomics are full of two-dimensional characters (no pun intended) that exist to deliver overexpository dialog that have the cadence and tone of frat jokes. This was true of MacHall to some extent in the beginning, but Boyd's skills have broadened in depth and in understanding of the elements of personality. His restraint is remarkable. He assumes his audience will stick with understated, whimsical, nonsensical panels. And we do, because ourreward is never spared.
Boyd may have in him the labyrinthine plots and epic story arcs of paper-published graphic novelists. Time will tell. What MacHall makes clear is that Boyd is a keen and deeply sensitive observer. MacHall mercifully spares us saga in favor of colorful character study. His ability to find the elements of personality and to read the humorous wisdom in banal and silly everyday humdrum is something special.
(to be continued...)
