www.rockwellfarmer.com

www.berniemcgovern.tumblr.com

$7

Demon Gunz isn’t so much an anthology as it is a one-man show, a weighty collected edition comprised of Demon Gun #1 – #6 that then morphs to include Demon Dust #7 – #11. The entire cottage industry of “Demon Comics” seems to be a method for Bernie McGovern to engage himself creatively after recovering from a decade of alcoholism. It’s McGovern’s coping mechanism for adapting to himself and his new daily routine, as well as to friends and his surroundings, as he immerses himself in a new healthy lifestyle, despite recurring emotional echoes and physically manifested ghosts of his former life. It appears to have begun almost as a personal zine style series of updates, a sequential sounding board for his psyche, but you can see the genesis of his full length book Demon Tears, published by Hic & Hoc Publications, start to coalesce and shine through. These stream of consciousness prequel vignettes are his dream logic attempts to analyze his mental status and subsequently create a narrative using various symbolic characters and ciphers. In the front half book, the visual style isn’t as refined as some of his work on the latter issues of Demon Dust, but the free flowing ideas and free floating images that describe the Demon Gun wreaking havoc on his personality are full of purposeful lines. The latter half of this effort uses more penciling detail and a greater degree of panel rendering, a more traditional comics approach, even experimentation with photo collage and ink washes. McGovern’s art grows to become full of emotional heft and reminds me of the effect Tony Millionaire is able to achieve. Both artists create characters and imagery that appear fun and fanciful at first glance, yet aided with lyrical strings of words, they reveal deep hidden truths about our existence, sometimes dark, and sometimes illuminating. Grade A-.

www.rockwellfarmer.com

This run of McGovern’s series plays like contemplative diary comics, which are at times meandering and dreamlike in their examination of dealing with bouts of creative drought. McGovern seeks to address creative inspiration or good old fashioned writer’s block; it’s an exercise in how real life experiences, like a trip to the Bahamas, can be used for inspiration to create other more fantastical stories. It’s important to note that Demon Dust isn’t your typical quotidian autobio comic, which is all too common, but more complex in its genuine and forthcoming approach to artistic challenges. Visually, the series is full of interesting and affable characters, like the pumpkin head guy or the light bulb head guy. For me, the characters read as aspects of McGovern’s own personality, though he himself does make a fourth wall breaking appearance at one point. Demon Dust has very nice and striking illustrations on the covers and the series is exceptionally well produced for being self-published mini-comics. The interiors are just as strong, with some memorable visuals, including things like a shot of the Earth and Moon colliding. The text pieces at the end of the shorts are notable as well, occasionally delivering gems like: Nostalgia < The Present > Expectations for Tomorrow. McGovern indicates a return to “grounded narrative” in forthcoming installments, instead of the “dream world logic” these few issues offer. Demon Dust single issues are quick short bursts, which is a smart move that doesn’t allow the audience to grow tired of some of the more nebulous concepts. Grade B+.

www.jeffscomics.com

$19.95

I first became of aware of Zwirek’s work on a 2009 project he edited titled Pinstriped Bloodbath, which was in fact the very first comic I reviewed here at Poopsheet Foundation, so it was great to see the result of this successful Kickstarter campaign come to fruition. Burning Building Comix is probably the most innovative comic you’ll see this year from a construction and storytelling standpoint. The hardcover folds open to reveal two interior booklets, for a total of 10 rows of panels. These rows function as “stories” in two different ways. They’re meant to represent both the actual physical stories of the building, and they also each contain a different story featuring varied building occupants. It’s an interactive experiment that asks the audience to alter their typical reading behavior. You start at the very bottom of these unfolded pages, work your way across, then up to the next row, across the row, and repeat, until you’ve reached the top of the building and have raced the fire up the structure as it attempts to engulf the building.

This unique approach creates a dynamic where Zwirek can tinker with many different aspects of sequential storytelling. It allows him to play with the passage of time and control the reader’s movement across the page, to have activities within the rows of panels intersect from floor to floor, such as two people from different stories meeting at a party, or a dog barking which is heard between the floors/rows. In addition to Zwirek pushing the boundaries of a traditional comic book narrative, he also challenges himself to tell this story sans dialogue. It forces him to create an aesthetically expressive cast of characters with pantomime actions, pictorial speech balloons that symbolize ideas, and to lace the backgrounds of the panels with some visual clues. Zwirek perhaps pushes the suspension of disbelief a tiny bit too hard at times. For example, I find it hard to believe someone could “unhang” themselves or that a run-of-the-mill dog might be able to use his water bowl to attempt to drown out an incipient stage fire, but that would otherwise hamper some of the humor, and it’s admittedly being very nitpicky regarding an otherwise stellar work.

Either because I’m contrarian by nature or an absolute idiot, well, maybe it’s really because I was inspired to experiment as a reader, as this creator was inspired to experiment with storytelling, I also read the book a second and third time. During these reads, I purposely did not follow the intended directions, and this yielded some interesting results. As an aside, I did this for Jason Shiga’s “Meanwhile” also, for whatever that’s worth. Instead of following the “Choose Your Own Adventure” style, I also read that book straight through in order to catch pages I might have missed. With Burning Building, I read it from the top down, from left to right one time, and this was interesting because it was the exact opposite of what you’re supposed to do, causing you to move against the fire, and not with it. This means that it appeared as if the incantation guy actually started the fire with his spell(!). I then read it a final time by reading the first panel of every story, then moving onto the second in unison, so I read from top left down, reading in columns, and moving forward with all stories at once incrementally. The dynamics fell out of linear sequence at times, the pace intensified with fire seemingly occurring on multiple floors at once, but it was just as interesting. Things like the dog barking fell in line just fine.

Burning Building Comix is worth the price of admission for the sheer craft of bookmaking and the innovative approach to storytelling alone, but it’s not a solitary gimmick that the book relies on by any means. The stories themselves are actually very telling and enjoyable with regard to human nature, particularly if you consider that the building itself represents life, and each player is merely a different aspect of self. It’s compelling to see how people from different walks of life, different ages, genders, and personalities, all react differently to the prospect of being consumed by fire or just being consumed by their own issues. Grade A+.

www.owenpomery.com

Owen Pomery’s self-published series features reclusive James Ebner, who literally lives an existence in a modest abode nestled between two high-rise billboards in a nameless city. There’s a certain heft to the books physically, the solid production values evident in the thick paper stock. The pages themselves are inhabited by slightly frail looking and shaky line weights that reflect the fragile nature of our existence. What we quickly learn is that Ebner’s physical act of living hidden between two billboards is a metaphor for the way we can all withdraw from society figuratively or otherwise. Ordinarily, I’d be inclined to say that the scripts are narrative heavy, with no real dialogue, but in the first issue I think this initial stance suits the solitary nature of Ebner’s life.

There are a handful of typos lurking about the quartet of issues I received (stuff like “coverted” vs. “converted” or “peddling” vs. “pedaling” or an extra “in” in one line) and some grainy reproduction quality at times, but otherwise the issues are being executed relatively flawlessly. Pomery is good about offering a variety of panel layouts, some widescreen, some full-page, but for the most part tends to favor the 9-panel grid, which he works very well in spots. One particular favorite was in Part II, Page 8, where an entire 9-panel grid is dedicated to offering a bird’s eye view of the city. It’s a beautiful shot that lends some perspective to the story. Ebner’s existence depicts the two sides of the coin; isolation may offer individual freedom in the short term, but also social restriction in the long term.

By the time I was reading through the third volume, it was clear that Pomery was systematically cataloguing all of Ebner’s strained encounters, be them friendly, sexual, or cultural. Artistically, Pomery employs great use of perspective and is dutifully cognizant of where his vanishing point is on the horizon. There’s a real sense of architectural draftsmanship to his art, which I appreciate (not surprising given his other professinal endeavors). He fills that template in with a strong sense of composing background environments for his foreground figures. Additionally, take a look at Part III, Page 13, where he expertly controls the pace and passage of time. Pomery has an exceptionally dry sense of humor, which I always gravitate toward. The banter between Ebner and the bowling alley manager is classic. You’ve got to read it to discover what air hockey and women have in common.

I’m excited to learn that this is planned as a 6-volume series and Parts V and VI are currently being crafted. Perhaps they’ll begin to explain some things I was curious about. I found myself wondering if we’ll get any sense for what Ebner does for work, how he gets power and basic utilities to the abode between billboards, if it’s even a legal arrangement or if he exists entirely off-grid. I’m fascinated by the sheer logistics of making it all work. I don’t think that’s Pomery’s concern though. If the skinny dipping scene teaches us anything, it’s that Between The Billboards’ primary concern is making a distinction between living in the moment and participating rather than being a passive observer in life. As the book points out, “life is the act of creating spectacle where there is none.” Grade A.

$20

From the people who bring you Stripburger comes Workburger, an international roster of talent delivering their highly variegated interpretations of what the term “work” means. This is work in all its forms and meanings, as it’s transitioned from an act of daily survival, to an expression of self-identity, to a now ubiquitous aspect of existence that many can no longer separate from their leisure time. There are 43 pieces contained in this anthology and the standouts for me include the following… Martin Romero of Spain uses fine lines sans dialogue to emphasize that work is all a matter of context, so keeping an eye toward unintended consequences is key. Marcel Ruijters of The Netherlands uses skeletal reapers and copious ink to bring an alt-history lesson about the fundamental nature of work. Mateusz Skutnik & Szymon Holcman from Poland offer one of them most memorable visual experiences in the book, with an industrial ethic and aesthetic that shine a smoggy light on man’s plight in the working world. Arkadi of Germany composes a long treatise that functions as something of a centerpiece, a sort of off-kilter epic fraught with the dangers of materialism. Peter Kuper (USA) is always worth a look, and here he examines where power resides in the system, and takes it a step further to show that he who holds power also helps shape history. Teresa Camara Pestana of Portugal adds life to the proceedings with an autobiographical entry that has an artistic style both slick and visceral, which transcends its quotidian leanings with lyrical power about the tension in social circles. Janek Koza of Poland blurs the line between physical and personality traits showing the impactful nature of their emotional power. The book ends with Danijel Zezelj of Croatia, depicting a future landscape featuring a post-apocalyptic rise of the workers, because nothing can function without the backbone of the largely nameless faceless working class in many systems. By the time you get to the end, you see the corrolary of a creation myth. It’s iconic, memorable, and a great piece to end the experience with. Grade B+.

www.estuariescomic.tumblr.com

$3

Twine bills Estuaries as “comics, esoterica, and forgotten places,” and instead of coming off nebulous or pretentious, it’s an appropriate descriptor for a terrific comic. The art style initially feels a little rough hewn in its simplicity, but Twine purposefully varies the shots in very interesting ways for a first time mini-comics production. I do think there is a realiance on too much omniscient narration instead of pure dialogue at times, which could either be a common mistake for first time comics writers or just a result of the dense historical subject matter. That aside, there’s an ear for intriguing scripting here as a couple would-be street artists explore abandoned buildings and the emotional rush that accompanies the activity. Just when I thought the book was solely going to travel in that direction, it became an interesting account of the New York Farm Colony long abandoned on Staten Island. From conscripted labor to the existence of a famous photographer who broke more than just sexual mores, I enjoyed the history lesson, but also the personal touch Twine included about the subject matter informing the street art of the (sort of) protagonist. There exists a pesky typo here or there (“bureacracy,” for example), but this is a strong debut that showcases the link between art and social relevance. I’m anxious to see more from this creator. Grade A.

www.killthewizard.tumblr.com

Allender indicates in an end note that the three shorts contained in Prologues were essentially a test run for a larger project he’s working on. I enjoyed The Gnome & The Serpent, The Demon Worshiper, and The Returning Veteran, which thematically feel like a sort of story progression involving characters at three stages of existence. The very thick line weights feel quite substantial, but I did find the panel transitions a little difficult to parse at times. Whether Allender intended the audience to examine danger lurking beneath the surface of otherwise innocuous things, playing around with powers we don’t fully understand or not, of the need to engage in activities with unintended consequences, that’s a bit of what I took from the reading experience. The best part of Prologues is how Allender was able to create his own fantasy realm with an off-kilter zeal in just three short strips, which you hardly notice are totally devoid of dialogue. Grade B+.

http://brainfood.thecomicseries.com

50 cents

This issue is aptly titled “Rants!” and provides a comical, if somewhat standard, assault on everything from pretentious “humble-braggers” who complain about how busy (read: important) they are, those who feel the need to document every detail of their inane existence to satisfy their simultaneous ego/insecurity, and even down to the people who just can’t stop thumb-typing on their smart phones for 5 minutes and look you in the eye. It’s over super quick, but a pretty fun time for a low price. Grade B.

www.eroynfranklin.com

$4

While I’ve enjoyed all of Franklin’s work to date, this is probably my favorite work so far because it’s more of a feature length affair that offers a complete story. The first half of the book relies hard on wordless sequences, which is no problem for Franklin because she’s such a strong panel to panel storyteller, along with some interesting artistic flourishes like the way water coming out of a faucet almost looks the same way she draws hair, for me somehow symbolizing the lost strands of time spent in this relationship. I won’t spoil it, but there’s essentially one “incident” that occurs in this book, which turns out to be not that big of a deal, though it could have been much worse. Like so many things in life, it’s not what happens to us that’s necessarily telling, but how we react to it always is. Franklin posits that we can become so caught up in our monotonous routines that we fail to empathize with others or even notice if they’re hurt, physically or emotionally. Sorry Sheets displays a knack for more fully realized backgrounds and rich figure drawing that captures the way the body realistically hands on the human wire frame. The book ultimately ends with an act of retribution instead of actual communication, which punctuates the way Franklin tends to hone in on a singular compelling theme for each project. Grade A+.

www.eroynfranklin.com

$3

For The Record feels like something of a departure for Franklin, but she comes out on top in this high-risk, high-reward proposition. The book basically takes a tongue-in-cheek account of an outsider’s (mis)understanding of porn. For The Record satirically substitutes an actual physical disease for the psychological draw usually associated with low self-esteem and the attempted reclamation of control that typically draws women to this pursuit. With pixelated breasts and erect penises, Franklin follows up the main attraction with a few stray pieces involving a harsh worldview in dealing with unwanted pregnancy or overtly literal ambition. The wry dark humor she displays is on point, critiquing a self-obsessed world despite its many larger problems. Grade A-.

www.eroynfranklin.com

$1

Sunder almost feels like a lost corollary to the woman found in Franklin’s longer work Deluge. It’s a quick 8-pager than uses sparse images with free-floating text to relay the idea of the protagonist being conflicted internally. She attempts to hold things together in the face of our sometimes inflexible world. I enjoyed the comparison of the polar extremes; existing in either knots or as loose thread, neither having the desired form to achieve a self-actualized sense of identity. Finding that precarious balance in the elusive middle is basically the key to happiness. Grade B+.

www.eroynfranklin.com

$4

Vantage is a subtle work that relies on gatefold pages opening up to reveal a zooming out effect, from small details to the larger context around them. Franklin uses the word “unfurl” to describe the dynamic, and I like that because it can refer not only to the physical unpacking of the book’s pages, but also to our ability to parse what’s going on. She moves from set to set, from wordless rocky environs to those more lush, from secluded swamps to scenic riverbeds, continually punctuating the process in a highly detailed pen and ink style that I really love. Franklin uses a unique construction technique and like the previous book I sampled, Deluge, plays on the meaning of her titles, this time with our titular vantage point. Meaning, Vantage is largely an exercise in perspective and context. Sometimes when we focus on the small details of a painting, or an event, or a person, we’re not necessarily seeing the big picture it represents. Often, things in life are more beautiful when you observe the whole. I’ll date myself with this reference, but those of us that grew up with Cindy Crawford being the supermodel pinnacle, well, it’d be like zooming into just look at her “you are here” landmark mole at the cost of everything else, and not seeing her smile, her eyes, her hair, or her radiant presence from across the room. There isn’t much of a story per se in Vantage, but this diminutive package is very accomplished artistically. Grade A-.

www.eroynfranklin.com

$3

If you’ve ever wanted me to knock down the preamble and just cut to the chase, Eroyn Franklin sent me a batch of her mini-comics and they’re all great. Franklin is one of the founders of the Short Run Small Press Festival and if her passion for event planning is anything like her comics, it should be a wild success in no time at all. Deluge is a small silent strip that contends figuratively with the oppressive sensory overload of modern life. Your read is, of course, open to further interpretation, but my read on this book is that of a woman who can’t seem to escape the deluge of foreign matter clogging her head. Franklin’s tight use of color and purposeful line quality reminds me a little bit of the erotic and disturbing creative output of Julia Gfrorer. I enjoyed the slight gloss of the paper stock in Deluge, almost mirroring the wool being pulled over most people’s eyes as they risk losing their sense of self in our white noise saturated world. Franklin does a trick at the end that suggests rather than doing anything to correct this dynamic, society at large just tends to kind of cannibalize those unfortunate experiences. This is a work that seems to push beyond the mere craft of “comics-making” and addresses larger philosophical quandaries. Grade A.

www.uncivilizedbooks.com

True Swamp pulls the toolie weeds back to reveal the hidden society that exists among animals. (Is “toolie weeds” just a term we used growing up in the foggy below sea level farmlands of the California Central Valley? Sorry.) True Swamp presupposes the notion that beliefs are just social constructs and that facts can therefore become skewed by the subjective interpretation of anybody and then spawn misinformation, which evolves over time with reliance on the spoken word. The end result? Yeah, seagulls originate from garbage dumps. Didn’t you know? There’s a lot going on in True Swamp, all of which is pretty fun. From the marmot mad scientist, to the weird homunculus Nikolas who can speak to fungi, to the fascination with the sexual habits of various creatures, it’s a unique experience. My favorite bits include Wallace the bird, who is a secret magician and has a sidekick stick-bug wand. The bird from the future comes back to speak to his younger self, as True Swamp tries to impart glimpses of this secret knowledge that emphasizes an appreciation for naturalism. Also? The animals swear. And swearing animals is funny! The books might be knee deep in the cross-section of folks that is the Dead Berry Gang transcending their own siloed corners of the swamp, or contending with the birthing practices of the Surinam Toad, or dealing with ants taking over sections of the swamp, but when someone yells “Alright freeloadin’ motherfuckers, party’s over!” I defy you not to laugh. If I have any criticism of the work, it’s that structurally the repetition of six-panel strips (and only six-panel strips) which function stand-alone, but also slowly build a larger narrative, sometimes slip into non-sequitur endings or feel like choppy fits and starts. But, I do appreciate the way the art is not overtly emotive so much as it is a subscriptive experience. It allows the reader to imbue meaning onto the neutral faces and is filled with fun flourishes like Wallace the bird incanting a spell in a different visual language of symbols that’s then analyzed before our eyes, like on page 24 of issue 01. After having read quite a few projects in the Uncivilized Books line, now’s as good a time as any to comment on their superb production quality. The paper quality is unique, the heavier stock covers lend a sense of gravitas, and the overall professionalism of the products is extremely high. For these two installments of True Swamp, let’s call it a Grade B+.

www.uncivilizedbooks.com

I decided to review the first two issues of Uncivilized Books publisher Tom Beta Testing The Apocalypse Kaczynski together, so I hope nobody minds. Cartoon Dialectics is a collection of shorts that have appeared elsewhere over the years, but still manage to feel strongly cohesive. What I probably enjoyed the most about Kaczynski’s mini-comics is that each issue contends with a specific theme, regardless of the direction of the strips contained. Volume 1 seems to address the sort of liminal state in the transition from print to digital. Frequent PF readers know that I maintain my love for print when it comes to comics. There’s just something about being able to hold an object in your hands, to feel the paper quality, to smell it, feel it, touch it, to see the way light glistens off the ink, to understand the texture of a screen-printed cover, etc., the sensory experience being endemic to the very nature of the act of reading comics. While Kaczynski certainly logically understands the benefits of digital, he also points out a few of the drawbacks of completely eliminating print. The introductory strip “Ransom Strange” reminds me of a Tom Neely aesthetic, with bulbous figures illuminated by ink washes. For the “World” series of strips, Kaczynski employs lighter line weights and quickly shows not only versatility, but how strong a panel to panel storyteller he is, bouncing deftly from the Easter Island monoliths to glimpses of a post-apocalyptic industrial revolution. Page 20 in Volume 1 contains a strip entitled “Mnemonics,” which I feel is particularly inspired. For anyone that read David Mazzucchelli’s much-lauded Asterios Polyp a few years ago, “Mnemonics” uses similar color overlays to relay juxtaposed events or time periods simultaneously. I loved it. I also love when Kaczynski works at that particular figure scale, able to weave together tight details in backgrounds or foreground characters in a mini-comic with a 9-panel grid page, with panels that are only about an inch and a half square. It’s fairly remarkable just from a technical standpoint.
 
Volume 2 seems a little more fascinated by unintended consequences, examining the concept of “the city” as a pragmatic life-giver in spite of the way it removes us from the natural world. We become so entrenched in inconsequential tasks that are meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Kaczynski punctuates this point in a sequence that balances the random miracle of life on this plane due to optimal proximity to a star, with the syrupy inks of a night sky that offer a contemplative brief respite from the hustle and bustle of urban living. There’s a one-page entry called “Space Case,” which reminds be subtly of the work of Pat Aulisio in his “Bowman” series. I really enjoyed the Shakespearean “book within a book” that Kaczynski delivers in the form of a reprinted early mini-comic, which he cites as sort of a protoplasmic glimpse of later works. It captures the friction between the paradigms of the natural world and man-made civilization, and offers a nice idea that artists strive to make order out of a chaotic world by seeking a way out of the labyrinth. There’s another thread in this issue about the way society has a fetish with cannibalizing our own technology, and how the resiliency of print stands up to that. As we try to parse the white noise and constant chatter of modern life to find things of import, we’re reminded by Kaczynski that authors who worked well before the rise of the digital age already foresaw how print would have the power to escape totalitarian regimes, even future fictional ones. Cartoon Dialectics is an important series for anyone working in creative endeavors in the modern age. Grade A.

www.uncivilizedbooks.com

$6

In a nutshell, what makes Bell’s July Diary different (read: better) than a typical set of quotidian autobiographical diary comics is that there’s more content contained within her work. I don’t mean content in terms of sheer volume or text density, but in the way the ideas presented are fairly meaty and you can chew on them. There’s always a lingering thought to explore beyond merely relaying a funny anecdote. For example, the way she captures in a self-aware manner her disproportionate fear when she loses her phone early on, or the underlying cause of embarrassment when confronted with a Latin cheek kiss. From crafting Desert Island flyers with Lizz Hickey to Ben Franklin’s wooden dildo, there’s a knack for selecting some rich topics. Artistically, her lines are able to pull off humor (hard to do) and a wide range of emotive elements, with a clear sense of purpose. The “Albanian Seducer” proves that truth is usually stranger and more comic than fiction, we all suffer from self-doubt when taking small bites out of larger tasks without receiving immediate gratification, and who hasn’t had one of those pret-ty inane experiences at the USPS. While there are a couple typos lurking here and there, I really enjoyed her wondering about corporate life in a cubicle farm (something I did 10 years of) or how she depicts the microcosmic art scene in New York, a sort of pooling effect of like-minded individuals that creates a social sphere of influence. Sunday, July 24^th is an interesting latter entry that see’s her longing to escape the city, exchanging the ostensible draw of urban life for the warmth of a welcoming home. It’s a moment that’s maybe inadvertently revealing about her inner character. Bell is able to reveal enough throughout July Diary to create emotional resonance with her readers, moving well beyond the simple compulsion to prove one exists in a social media saturated world. Grade A-.

www.neiljam.com

$5

“Today we’re going to play a game. It’s called life… and everyone loses.” If this sardonic worldview does anything for you, then you’ll want to check out Jerry’s Journal. It follows the adventures of what was once a supporting character in the burgeoning Neil Jam comics line now in his own prime time series. It’s a collection of strips from the world-weary and wise-ass little bird with large blank circular eyes. Those ocular pools of ink allow the reader to interpret an array of emotions, which move from deep-seeded longing to frustration, coming out with comically ironic observations. Jerry covers everything from the absence of love and decency in his life, to the hypocritical need to follow rules in the world, touches on friendship and self-doubt, and even displays an emotionally guarded side in strips like “Getting Even.” With bold clean lines, ultimately Jerry’s Journal is a reflection of ourselves; we’re all Jerry to some extent, whether latent or manifest, confronting our fears, doubts, and insecurities. But, it’s not all doom and gloom. Jerry is self-aware (evidenced by the fact that he acknowledges he’s speaking in a comic strip) and offers a hint of reconciliation for his conflicted existence as he begins to argue against being emotionally numb. As he frames it, to experience the good stuff, you have to deal with the bad stuff too. Grade A.

www.komikss.lv

$6

This issue, Mini Kus! #13, marks the last in the latest round of offerings from the publisher, and it’s a strong note to end on that punctuates the general sensibility of their line. In what seems to be inspired by true events, we learn that even in the face of state sponsored censorship, art lives on eternally as an abandoned house becomes more than the sum of its parts. Baeza’s erratic and energetic lines establish what ideas can be to young minds, “giving shape to their emotions,” as a stray line of dialogue offers. The book posits on page one that “This is a sad story,” but it’s also unapologetically hopeful through the symbolism it puts forth. Grade A+.

www.komikss.lv

$6

Mini Kus! #12 is a challenging work that postulates a sort of internal creationism myth after a lost vessel encounters a small island. It’s concerned with man’s place in the natural world, specifically how we can overlay man-made constructs and ideas onto what we observe in our world. From “bread faun” to “boil man,” it makes you consider how the stories and customs and culture we take for granted all originate. The art is like some bizarre blend of old National Geographic illustrations and some odd comics from the future that (mistakenly) portray today’s existence a couple hundred years from now. For me, I will say that I enjoyed the front of the book on the island more than where it ends up going, but that’s probably just personal preference. Grade A-.

www.komikss.lv

$6

Mini Kus! #11 is a forthcoming autobiographical account of how sometimes we just can’t see the forest for the trees, or maybe it’s “the grass is always greener” syndrome. The story reminds us to appreciate what we have in life and to truly be present to experience it, rather than continually longing for some other arrangement which may never come. Valve’s colorful lines and seemingly world-weary existence are portrayed in a genuine and beautiful fashion. It’s a subtle work with an intoxicating aesthetic. While this is largely an aside, I love the diversity of the Kus! line, how they can bounce from publishing an abstract work like Otso to something like All You Need Is Love, truly showcasing the versatility of the medium. Grade A+.