Yesterday, this was all brought up by author and Dieselpunk, Jack Philpott, who inquired if the founder of Dieselpunks.org – the premier Dieselpunk social website – knew of AnachroCon’s Dieselpunk theme.
Here is the inquiry:
Tome, Larry, Johnny,
I just heard that Anachrocon in Atlanta 14-16 Feb (http://www.anachrocon.org/) is having a Dieselpunk theme this year. Balogun Ojetade (CC) is even releasing a Dieselfunk book there. Had any of you heard of that? Anyone have plans to be there (aside from Balogun)?
Here is the answer from the Creator / Editor of Dieselpunks.org, Tome Wilson (the bold emphasis is mine; the words, however…
“It was all a dream, I used to read Wizard Magazine…”
– Paraphrasing ‘Juicy” by The Notorious B.I.G
Pssst… Guess what?
Comics are Hip Hop.
Of course, if this were written in the 20s, I would have said, “Comics are the Blues.” If this were written in the 40s, then Comics would be akin to Jazz. In the 60s, Comics would be considered Rock and Roll…
You get the idea.
Comics started out as a sort of gutter hybrid art form of image and text, which (for the most part) were crudely drawn, crudely written disposable fair printed on cheap paper for the unwashed masses, mostly children, to enjoy.
Comics are hood. Back in the day, nobody who considered themselves “true” artists or writers would claim comics as a legitimate art form. Artists wouldn’t claim comics, using that work as a stepping-stone while they pursued “legitimate” work from advertising agencies.
Hell, Stanley Lieber created the pen name Stan Lee initially to distance himself from comic book work for the day when he would write The Great American Novel.
Comics are dangerous. Along with Jazz, along with Rock and Roll, along with Hip Hop, Comics were once, and according to some, still considered the bane of existence; a poison of the mind that would lead to delinquency, crime, homosexuality, and murder. Frederic Wertham made his bones by putting the fear of comics into the hearts and minds of good, hard-working, American folk with his ode to ridiculousness Seduction of the Innocent.
Comics are gully. They have the ability to tap into our base instincts. They allow some to engage in power fantasies of strength, sexual illusion and dominance, fulfilling wishes to be overly-muscled, gritted teeth savage demigods who can kill with impunity, cruelly reducing women to disposable plot devices only useful for fulfilling carnal needs or a tool for motivation in their mutilation or death by exotic and tragic means.
The Comic Book industry knows beef. From the eternal struggle for dominance by DC and Marvel to the conflict between Milestone Media and Ania (a rift that echoed the East Coast/West Coast war without the death of its representatives), to the dearth of flame wars pertaining to every aspect of comics in social media, it’s a wonder that we’ve never seen scuffles on par with the Source Awards at the San Diego Comic Con.
At the same time, Comics are conscious. Comics can uplift. Comics can inspire. Comics can show us at our absolute best. We love Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Black Panther, Storm and many others because they illustrate who we want to be. Two Jewish men for the purpose of punching Hitler, and the ugliness of Nazism, in the face, created Captain America. Spider Man shows that an ordinary schlub could rise from his nebbishness and become a hero because, of course, with great power comes great responsibility. The X-Men fight for equality in a world where not only are they not wanted, but are outright persecuted for being different.
Like Hip Hop, Comics are experimental, have different styles, represent different regions, and are global. East Coast is different from the West Coast, which is different from the Midwest and the Dirty South, yet no matter if you rock Nas or Rakim, NWA or the Souls of Mischief, Common or Eminem, Outkast or T.I., it’s still representing the culture that is Hip Hop. By the same token, no matter if you’re Justice League or Avengers, Hellboy or Saga, Blade of the Immortal or Archie, you’re still knee deep in that comic book culture.
Comics and Hip Hop share the mastery of elements in order to be truly down in the game. The practitioners of Hip Hop are the MC, the DJ, the B-Boy & B-girl and the Graffiti artist. The practitioners of comics are the Writer, the Penciller, the Inker, the Colorist and the Letterer.
And, just like Hip Hop, money has come in and changed the game. Before 2008, one could say that DC and Marvel were in the same boat as Dark Horse, Image, Dynamite, IDW, Boom, etc. Even though DC and Marvel were “bigger labels,” they were still in the comic book family.
Like Hip Hop, Comics had cinematic success well before recent memory. For instance, one may be able to call the 1978 Superman film the Beat Street of comic books movies. Furthermore, Comics and Hip Hop have borrowed from each other as well as had moments of symbiosis (i.e. the Wu-Tang Clan, MCs using their rap monikers like secret identities, rappers creating comic books, Brotherman, etc.).
Real talk, 1997’s Blade, in tone, attitude and execution, was as close to a Hip Hop influenced comic book movie as you were gonna get.
However, once Iron Man and The Dark Knight made big money, the Mouse (Disney) bought Marvel, the Rabbit (Warner Brothers) doubled down on DC and changed the whole game. Now we’ve got the Corporate Two trying to dominate, and sublimate, an industry that thrives on innovation and diversity. For them, it’s not about creating good stories, but exploiting IP.
Same thing happened in Hip Hop. Before Dr. Dre’s classic The Chronic, you could have A Tribe Called Quest, EPMD, Salt N Pepa, Public Enemy, Arrested Development, 2 Live Crew, MC Hammer and more rock the airwaves and all be considered Hip Hop. After The Chronic, it became all about blunts, guns, sex and keeping it real. It became all about the clothing deal or schilling products before even getting the record deal. It became less about speaking your truth and more about fattening your bank account…
In other words, Hip Hop became more about Drake and less about Kendrick Lamar.
Still, just like real Hip Hop, real Comics endure. Like Hip Hop, Comics have the mainstream and the underground. Like Hip Hop, the underground, or independent scene of Comics is where true innovation and experimentation exists. That’s where you’ll find cats grinding out with passion, creating their own labels and selling their wares out of the trunks of their digital cars (POD, websites, Comixology, Drive Thru Comics, Kickstarter, etc.) searching for that fan with discernable taste to purchase what they have to offer.
And, just like Hip Hop, the work is diverse, dangerous, gully and uplifting. These Comics represent our base fears and our wildest dreams.
Remember when Nas said, “All I need is on mic?” The Comic creator could say, “All I need is one pen, or one pencil, or one stylus…”
This is where the future exists. This is where we exist. We are 4 Pages | 16 Bars, and we came to rock the house.
Protect ya neck.
4 Pages | 16 Bars: A Visual Mixtape presents Sequential Graffiti is available for print ($14.99) and digital formats ($5.99) now at Amazon and Drive Thru Comics. Think of it as a 66-page EP celebrating some of the Visual MCs and Literary DJs who help make comics a cooler place to be. It’s all leading up to Vol. 01 of 4 Pages | 16 Bars: A Digital Mixtape. It’s called The Symphony for a reason…
I was saying to myself the other day that I wish that I could see a bright future that is so vividly displayed on Deep Space Nine where Captain Benjamin Sisco is captain. I was also commenting to myself (because I talk to myself quite often) that being human means to be inherently stupid, egoistical, violent, and often times self centered. No matter how much I can be angry about the world and its war on the oppressed, the inescapable and laughable fact is that we are choking ourselves with politics and needless rhetoric.
I am good at work. You can see me at work and think I’m the happiest person in the world. I do my job well. I have a good woman that I adore. I love my family and friends, who all relatively make my days in various ways. I have a good life filled with passions…
The Black Age of Comics. This is the term coined in 1992. With the emergence of Milestone Media, Brotheman, Tribe and other entities in the early nineties, the presence of the African American in sequential art could not be denied.
20 years later, the book Black Comix created by John Jennings and Damian Duffy became the link that brought the African American comic book community together. 4 Pages | 16 Bars: A Visual Mixtape is the next stage in the evolution of this movement.
4 Pages | 16 Bars: A Visual Mixtape began in 2013 as an art installation that ran for four months at Chicago institution The Silver Room. The event celebrated the cultural diversity of the independent comic book scene… And, was a stone groove, baby.
In 2015, diversity has become the buzzword in the comic book industry with companies like DC and Marvel claiming to lead the charge, but merely scratching the surface of the complexity and intersection of race, culture and gender.
The 4 Pages | 16 Bars: A Visual Mixtape trade paperback series will be a celebration of where true diversity exists in this industry, a sampler for potential fans to enjoy our intellectual properties, a showcase for existing and upcoming talent as well as a source guide for those fans to purchase our books.
In other words, it is the multicultural Heavy Metal magazine for the 21st Century.
From traditional comics to webcomics to animation and the prose world, from superheroes to fantasy to Sci-Fi to humor, Steamfunk, Afrofuturism and more, is all in here. Each of the artists and writers in this series will bring a unique, but shared viewpoint, in the creation of their work.
We are Visual MCs and Literary DJs. We move our pencils and pixels like the comic book B-Boys and B-Girls we are with our Graffiti making the world a little more beautiful… A little more flavorful.
The first volume will drop in June 2015 with subsequent volumes coming out in Fall 2015, Winter 2016 and Spring 2016.
The comic book industry is more than DC or Marvel. The scene is more diverse than Image or Dark Horse. This is visual Jazz, Rock, Funk, Hip Hop and electronic music. This is art for the people.
We hope that you will become a part of The Blaxis.
Momolu Massaquoi (1870-1938)
(A completed manuscript of 95,000 words by Raymond J. Smyke)
Born of a warrior queen on a Liberian battlefield, Momolu Massaquoi was heir to two African royal families and served as the youngest-ever King of the Vai people. In the 1920s Massaquoi became Africa’s first indigenous diplomat serving for a decade in Hamburg, Germany. Popular among Liberians, Massaquoi had the potential to become Liberia’s first tribal African president. Betrayed by his closest friend, he was barred from holding public office and his name expunged from official Liberian history. This exclusion from politics and public memory was part of the suppression of the Liberian indigenous majority by the repatriate minority, and it ultimately led to the 1980 implosion of modern Liberia. Set against this backdrop, “The First African Diplomat” illustrates how Massaquoi bridged the wide gap between traditional African life and the Western-dominated industrialized world. This…
This is a public service announcement for all of those working to get into the game.
I have, officially, been a working artist since 1994.
I’ve actually been getting paid for making art since I was a teenager. I was getting paid for my craft since I was, about, 13 years old. For real, my parents were among my first clients, paying for my services because they understood that this was going to be my profession, not a past time.
But, as a professional, I’ve been making money off of my talent since I received my bachelor’s degree lo those many moons ago.
I’m not saying this to brag. This is just a simple fact. Indeed, my fellow creatives will tell you that making a living in this business is hard work… Extremely hard work. A lot of blood, sweat, tears, money and time went into getting to this point in my career. The fact that I can live a lower-middle class lifestyle off of this art game is a success in itself.
With that being said, if you want to guarantee that I will never work with you on a project, say these two words:
If I had a dollar for every time someone uttered those words to me for a possible collaboration, I would be a rich man.
Let’s build comes from a cat that had an idea for a comic book after smoking the finest while watching Meteor Man or Steel and said to himself, “I could make some coin off of comics, son (swupp, swupp). I’ma make a comic book the first comic book with a real Black superhero and get paid, yo.”
Let’s build comes from that dude who I meet at parties, finds out what I do, and says “Yo, I got a dope idea for a comic book. I don’t wanna tell you my idea, ‘cuz I’m worried someone will steal it like ‘ol girl who wrote The Matrix. But, you could help me make it, yo, and then we’ll both come up.”
Let’s build comes from my man who one of my boys told him about me, showed them my work and says that they should get in touch with me to get advice on how to get into the business and they approach me like we shared Pampers back in the day.
Yeah… Good luck with that, fam…
Let’s build is probably the most unprofessional phrase in this business. It’s downright insulting. It’s the assumption that I am just a dupe waiting for someone of “brilliance” to come and bless me by exploiting my talent to make his half-assed, half-baked dreams come true.
I learned to avoid the hook up because 9.5 times out of 10, those cats were not as serious as I was about the game.
Notice how I kept my examples male-specific, because no woman has ever come to me with this phrase. They understand the need to get paid.
I’ma let my comrade Damon Alums throw some dimes into the conversation.
“The folks that didn’t give you the time of day made the shift to the professional lane, and it paid off for them. Going back to the ‘lemme see if I can get the hook-up’ lane would be a step backward, and that’s not what life is about. Not that they forgot where they came from, not that they’re crabs in the bucket, trying to stop your shine, it’s just they’re at that higher level, and looking to work with folks who are at that same level. A reflection of being at that level is having cash up front. That’s just business talking. Not personal. Whether that money comes from street corner hustling, a bank loan, or quarters saved from movie theater floors is immaterial. That much I also know.”
Thank you, Brother Alums. We now return to our regularly scheduled program…
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’ve never collaborated with another creative or creatives. Indeed, some of the best work I’ve ever done has been in collaboration with others. Shoot, my advertising days were nothing but collaborations. Griot Enterprises started as a collective of artists and writers trying to put themselves on in the comic book industry. The Horsemen: Mark of the Cloven is in collaboration with my comrade Jude W. Mire. I’m currently involved in collaborating on an anthology, Artists Against Police Brutality, created in part by my brother-in-arms John Jennings.
The fact is this: I don’t need to collaborate with them. They don’t need to collaborate with me. Neither one of us is dependent upon the other to build our repertoire. We have all had some success, built some notoriety because of our own merits. All of us have developed our craft on our own and we recognize the talent, drive and dedication in each other. We’re like-minded in focus. Because of this, we want to work with each other, thereby building collectively on the foundations that we individually established.
It also doesn’t hurt that we consider each other not just friends, but professionals.
True collaboration comes when all parties equally bring something to the table. I can’t ask someone to do something that I can’t do myself.
It’s not predatory when an artist or a writer asks for compensation for their time and their talent. It’s actually more predatory to talk collaboration than to hire an artist. Illustration is incredibly time-consuming and creating work on faith with no compensation just doesn’t make fiscal sense especially when drawing is how you put food on the table.
As a businessman, which professional artists are, you’ve got to make sure that you’re gonna eat and that the people you work with are on the same page, the same level as it were.
You know how many times those artists got burned in their career? You know how many empty promises cats have had to swallow like horse pills with no water to wash it down? Trust, if you had to deal with that level of janky hustlin’, you would be mad cagey as well.
It’s not about being greedy; it’s about protecting your talent and making sure that you keep a roof over your head.
Peep game: I’m in the process of finding funding for a Horsemen project, Lumumba Funk, that will include the talents of Arvell Jones, Larry Stroman and a few of my fellow Blaxis agents like Hannibal Tabu, Damion Gonzales, Quinn McGowan, Jason Reeves, Ashley Woods and many more.
Now, though they made the verbal agreement to be down for the cause (and, I truly appreciate the love), I’m not gonna ask them to draw, or write, page one until I have that funding in hand to pay my brothers and sisters.
Trust, they’re as impatient to get started, as I am to get them paid. But I know when I’m ready, they’re ready. And, they know that I’ll keep my word as a professional to get them squared away…
That’s beyond hustle… That’s gangster… And with gangster shit, we all eat.
In the stories I read of Liongo, he was portrayed as a scoundrel; a bully arrogant and rude blessed with strength and near invulnerability, a thorn in his people’s side. In many ways, he deserved to be defeated by the copper needle. He had it coming…
That was my first impression when I started creating this project. As I was reading through the initial research sent, the story of Liongo kept speaking to me. I couldn’t avoid it. He kept creeping into my thoughts, singing the song he sang to his mother so that he could be liberated from captivity. He begged… Nay… Demanded that his story be told.
Well, I capitulated and allowed him to tell me his tale… So, he did. And, when he was finished, I could only think of one thing:
Liongo was a jerk.
A character like that is not a hero. A character like that is no role model for children much less adults. A character like that does not inspire others to be better than they are.
But, Liongo wanted to be a hero. I wanted him to be a hero. The world needs more heroes, especially in these interesting times we live in.
The mythology of Africa is deep and rich. It is as complex and diverse as the cultures that make up the continent. As a creator, it is a world of untapped depths and precious jewels that have yet to be discovered. Those creators, those storytellers that limit themselves in the exploration of these stories do themselves a great disservice.
In my creation, The Horsemen, I delved into the myths and legends of the western part of the African continent; in particular, the mythology of the Orishas from the Yoruba culture in Nigeria, aspects of which survived the slave trade and combined with Christianity to create religions like Santeria and Candomble. I took these myths as the source material to craft my fictional world, my New Mythology that would speak to a modern world using an ancient voice. I brought my West African sensibilities to the realm of superheroes, enriching the mythology created by the European immigrants of these United States, giving this American mythology a little more soul.
The world of Liongo was different than the world of the Orishas. It was from a different region with their own way of looking at the world, which was influenced by the cross pollination of cultures from across the Indian Ocean. However, the notion of a hero, a real hero, is universal. And, as I said, Liongo needed to be a hero.
So, I took a second look at Liongo’s tale and took key elements that I thought were crucial to the character (I.e. his mythic strength, the relationship with his mother, the handmaiden, the nephew and the copper needle). I did not want to re-tell his tale, but rather create a sequel to the original story. I wanted to re-shape, re-mix the original myth, and use that re-mix to craft my original tale.
The lands of Zanzibar and Oman would take on a magical quality in my tale, becoming realms of fantasy and wonder, populated by fierce beasts and an evil sorcerer who would wield the power of sinister spirits taken from the Middle Eastern influence that permeates the Eastern African Coast.
Combining mythologies from the region, Liongo’s mother would be named Dzivaguru, in reference to the Shona (Zimbabwe) goddess of light and dark. She would represent the Earth, and take a position next to Elders as powerful as she to oversee and protect this magical land from those who would enslave the people of these worlds.
I made Liongo a leader of his people, a warrior that came from the veldt to unite and save this newly formed Bantu Nation from a greater threat. He became a man who sacrificed what was precious to him, his compassion and his family, to save a world. That sort of sacrifice would pay a heavy toll. That sort of man would become cold. In some ways, that sort of man would be perceived as cruel…
In short, he would become The Hard Man.
But, the measure of a hero is overcoming the obstacles before him. And, a great hero, no matter how powerful, would need help in conquering his enemies and to reclaim that which he had lost…
Who better to assist such a man than his own child… His daughter?
As Don Quixote had Sancho Panza, as Sherlock Holmes had Dr. Watson, as Batman had Robin, the Hard Man would have his Sunbird. And that Sunbird, who would come to be known as Rehema would prove to be the lynchpin that was missing in my story.
Finally, Liongo’s name would need an upgrade as well. Just as Xango, Chango and Django are names derived from the Orisha of Thunder Shango, Lionogo would be the evolution of Liongo, the final transformation from scoundrel to hero.
So, was Liongo a jerk? Yes. But, he has grown. He has matured. He has evolved. He has become Lionogo, the Hard Man…
And, the Hard Man is a hero through and through.
The Song of Lionogo: An Indian Ocean Mythological Remix, created exclusively for the Smithsonian National Museum of African Art, will be available the week of February 23.
Happy Black History Month and Happy Black Future Month… Cheers!