Gary Panter was the first to speak, unaided by modern technology but accompanied by a humorous moderator. His style was flippant and engaging. Starting naturally at the beginning, his upbringing caught my attention and elicited my surprise. He went to East Texas State University - not a school well known or even recognized by most people, and likely a rather conservative one for artsy types. As college rejection letters like to say, your list of acceptances matters far less than what you choose to do with your education. Perhaps tearing a hole in that argument, Gary admitted his first job out of school was in a janitorial position. He sardonically noted that diplomas should have a "kick me" sign on their backs.
This was not all bad, though - in his time of desperation he took his portfolio around to a variety of employers. That ambition provided the biggest opportunities in his professional life. Trying to solidify a more relevant community, he saw Slash Magazine one day and felt a real connection with the work. The pieces, as he put it, looked scary, but they meshed with his style. Looking back, he lamented that people romanticize that period of history forty or fifty years ago. Yet the same kinds of creative endeavors still happen today. Sharing some advice with the group, he noted that "You have to find your scene while you are alive."
Much of his story appears unconventional and dynamic. For one, he intentionally went to the wrong places - dress shops instead of comic shops, for instance - to get his art shown and known. The way I see it, tradition and fear tend to keep us from this approach. Yet in a post-modern world like ours today, we might just open up to the kind of life Gary advocated. Extending the point, he advised us to "flee in the wrong direction" with our art, and to be unconventional. Humorously but perhaps only half-jokingly, he suggested that if we encounter cyanide in a subway we run the other way from everyone else, who may be falling into the trap of groupthink. He says the same goes for aspiring professionals in the field. Do not compete with other artists. Everyone makes different art and has a different audience.
As for Chip Kidd (named one of times one-hundred most influential people, I might note), illustrations provide a creative outlet. The irony of the situation, as he saw it, was him being asked to attend this conference on small press, even though he works for the world's largest publisher. He noted his first experience with small press was with Vertical. The publisher's goal was to bring Japanese art to USA, and they asked him to be their art director. Notably, he did the cover for IQ84 using semi-transparent vellum. The book made it to number two on The New York Times Bestsellers List when it came out, although he refused to take credit for the work's success. An edgy and engaging novel, IQ84 has come fully into the mainstream. For someone with free-flowing artistic ability to take on this project does indicate to me that creativity has a place in the corporate world.
Relevant to Chip's love of Batman, Bat-Manga brought lost comics of the superhero to the United States. The style marked a notable departure from what most of us are used to seeing. According to Chip, the original maker of the comics in Japan never had time to learn American drawing style so he did it his own way. That seems to have paid off with familiar and yet fresh work. Warner Brothers, in time, brought the comics to a TV special. The hilarious videos paid homage to the original comics and their style. Chip approved.
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| Post-Batman debriefing |
Moving onto the question and answer session, the first exchange struck to the heart of an artist's dilemma, and captured a concern I have personally puzzled for years. Should you try to be original from the start? Or imitate people at first, and then develop your own style? Gary reassured nervous students, admitting that while there is a lot of pressure to have a distinct style in art school, your style actually "catches up to you." He seemed to suggest that it develops organically rather than by concerted effort. Chip suggested that one adapts the style to the project at hand.
Moving to a question of inspiration, Chip said he takes his from the actual text or sound he is trying to illustrate. He reads as much of the work as he needs to know in order for the art to succeed. Yet given the delay in translation from Japanese, he can't read it all at first. This ends up serving him well, given his belief that the illustrator should not spoil the ending for the viewer or reader. The art of literature, as he saw it, takes on a different dimension, with distinct requirements. He sees it as a matter of combining twenty-six abstract symbols to instill ideas in the minds of the reader. Quite a different task from open-ended design.
The two moved on to share the worst advice they received in art school. For Gary, it was the notion that he should, well, stay in school. For him, sticking it out meant a considerable amount of dedication and plenty of struggle. Chip recalled his first drawing teacher, who said "your first thousand drawings will be your worst." It made him want to stop drawing. One can only wonder if other talented artists have given up the field as a result of similar discouragement. As I see it, comments like those should warn teachers that, even in a politically-sensitive world, we can do more to encourage and foster the talents of young people, and everyone who aspires to create.
One of Gary's last comments during the presentation focused on the hectic, eclectic nature of modern art. As he put it, we now live in a maximalist world. Mocking the current approach, he said something along the lines of, "If you draw this for 5000 hours people will like it." He was unwilling to disavow this approach, but only cautioned the audience of a changing world. At the very least, we can all be aware.
Casey Penk
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