SwanShadow Thinks Out Loud

In honor of the discovery earlier this week of Saturn’s Phoebe ring — the largest planetary ring in the solar system by a factor of a bazillion — today’s Comic Art Friday salutes the one superheroine who could have told us the doggoned thing was there all along: Saturn Girl.

In the 30th century, vivacious Imra Ardeen from Titan, Saturn’s largest moon, is one of three gifted teenagers who together found the Legion of Super-Heroes. Imra, whose power is mental telepathy, takes the code name Saturn Girl. I never could figure out why Imra called herself Saturn Girl, since (a) Saturn didn’t have anything to do with her powers, and (b) she wasn’t actually from Saturn. Why not call herself Titan Girl?

I guess Mind-Reader Girl would have sounded too silly. Then again, on a team that would eventually include people calling themselves Bouncing Boy, Princess Projectra, and Matter-Eater Lad, is any code name too silly?

Speaking of silly, the artwork above features Imra alongside the original Green Lantern, Alan Scott, who wears one of the silliest costumes in the history of comics. But he has a cool power ring. (Imra’s named after a planet with rings. There’s a Common Element for you.)

Although afflicted with a confusing moniker and a wimpy superpower — because it was the Silver Age, and pretty much all female superheroes had wimpy powers — Saturn Girl remained a stalwart in the Legion, and one of its most identifiable members. As a charter Legionnaire, she was looked upon as an elder stateswoman (at least, as elder as a teenager can be) and de facto leader. Imra’s prominence in the group has held consistent throughout the decades, and the Legion’s ever-changing permutations, right up to the present day.

Below, we see Imra facing off with the dreaded cosmic supervillain Thanos. They’re both from the moon Titan, albeit in different comic-book universes. (There’s another Common Element.)

You’ll notice that Thanos does not refer to himself as Saturn Boy. Or Saturn Man. Or Saturn anything. That’s because Thanos stayed awake in astronomy class, and knows that he isn’t from Saturn. (Imra was out with a migraine that day.)

In the past few years, Imra has become something of a TV star. She was one of the lead characters in the recent Legion of Super-Heroes animated series (at least in the first season of the show; she was mostly MIA in Season Two). She has also appeared, in radically modified form, as a guest star on Smallville, where she’s played by the girl who was Mackenzie Phillips’s teenage sidekick in the final season of the Disney Channel X-Files knockoff, So Weird. (You’d pretty much have to call a show So Weird if Mackenzie Phillips stars in it, wouldn’t you? But that’s a topic for another day.)

Funny how she never mentions that Phoebe ring, though.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

I’ve been reading comic books, and admiring the art contained in them, for more than 40 years. (Which reminds me — get off my lawn.) I can’t begin to guess how many comic book artists’ work I’ve viewed during that span of time. Of course, there have been numerous pencilers and inkers whose work I’ve loved. Not surprisingly, there have been quite a few whose art, at best, didn’t impress me, and at worst, repulsed me. (Hello, Rob Liefeld.)

There’s always been one category of artists who’ve held a special place in my admiration: those whose work I can always, and immediately, recognize. That category is less densely populated than you might suppose. Comics have always been a derivative, imitative industry, with creators liberally borrowing (and sometimes, outright plagiarizing) from one another. Publishers contributed by mandating rigid “house styles,” patternized approaches that their staff artists and freelancers were duty-bound to mimic. (When Jack Kirby — without question the most influential artist in mainstream American comic books — moved from Marvel to DC in the early 1970s, DC editors routinely had other artists redraw the heads of Kirby’s Superman figures, because Kirby’s likeness of the Man of Steel strayed too far “off-model.”)

Even artists who rate among my favorites can be easy to confuse for one another. Keith Pollard’s work evokes John Buscema’s, for example, while Geof Isherwood evokes Barry Windsor-Smith. Comic artists who got into the business via the tutelage of others often evolve similar styles. A dozen or more name artists came into comics in the early 1970s as assistants of Neal Adams, and retained some measure of Adams’s influence — guys like Bob McLeod and Joe Rubinstein, to name two. So, even though I’ve looked at scads of comic art, I can’t always tell at a glance who drew it, even if it’s an artist I enjoy.

One artist whose work I’ve always recognized in a heartbeat, and whom I’d never confuse with anyone else, is Mike Grell.

Mike Grell burst onto the comics scene in 1973, as the artist on DC’s Legion of Super-Heroes. His run on that book is still fondly remembered by Legion aficionados. Grell also drew attention with his well-received work on Aquaman and Green Lantern/Green Arrow. His unmistakable style garnered Grell (no pun intended) legions of fans, as he became one of the era’s signature artists. The striking pinup above features Grell’s version of Green Arrow, as inked by Joe Rubinstein over Grell’s original pencils.

Grell’s true talent, though, shone through when he began to create his own characters. In 1975, he devised, wrote, and drew The Warlord for DC, a series that melded sword-and-sorcery heroic fantasy with space opera-style science fiction. When he left DC in the early 1980s, Grell developed a similar series — Starslayer — as a creator-owned property, published first by Pacific Comics, then by First Comics. The drawing below, penciled by Grell and once again inked by Joe Rubinstein, depicts Tamara D’Orsini, the female lead of Starslayer.

Then, in 1983, Grell unleashed his magnum opus: Jon Sable, Freelance, a series about a safari hunter turned mercenary whom Grell described as “a cross between James Bond and Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer.” The independent comic proved sufficiently popular that in 1987, ABC-TV produced a dreadful action drama based on it. And when I say dreadful, I’m being kind.

The short-lived TV show, entitled simply Sable, bore only passing resemblance to Grell’s comic book. It’s probably most noteworthy for its unaired original pilot, in which Gene Simmons of the rock group KISS starred as the title character (Simmons was replaced for the seven episodes of the series by an unknown — then as well as now — actor named Lewis Van Bergen), and for its female costar Rene Russo, who though then unknown did not remain so, but instead went on to A-list motion picture stardom. Unlike Lewis Van Bergen, who so far as I know went on to the night shift at In ‘N’ Out Burger.

In the Common Elements commission that leads off this post, Mike Grell teams Jon Sable — who in the skilled hands of his creator looks nothing like either Gene Simmons or Lewis Van Bergen — with another mercenary turned hero, Silver Sablinova (code name: Silver Sable), who in the 1980s and ’90s battled bad dudes in the pages of Marvel Comics’ Silver Sable and the Wild Pack. I’ve often wondered whether these two stalwarts, who bear similar names and chose identical professions, might be somehow related… in a cross-dimensional, trans-universal sort of way.

But that’s an exploration for another time.

That’s also your Comic Art Friday.

Of the 87 artworks in my Common Elements commission gallery, I’ve only had the opportunity to witness the creation of a small fraction. Four pieces in the series — two by penciler Ron Lim and inker Danny Bulanadi, and two by the great Tony DeZuniga — were drawn before my eyes at comic book conventions. Another, by Darick Robertson, was crafted during a signing event at my local comics shop.

Until recently, however, I’d never watched a Common Elements commission come into being via the magic of the Internet.

John Beatty is best known to comics aficionados as an inker, in partnership with such pencil artists as Mike Zeck (on the groundbreaking miniseries Marvel Super-Heroes Secret Wars, and for lengthy runs as the interior artists on Captain America and as cover artists on G.I. Joe), Kelley Jones (Batman), and Michael Golden (the war adventure The ‘Nam). Like many of the best inkers, John is also a terrific penciler in his own right. His drawing style, which to my eye reflects the influence of Jack Kirby — although it’s fair to say that almost every superhero artist of the past 50 years borrows at least a smattering of influence from Kirby — led me to commission him to draw this pairing of Kirby’s Captain America pastiche Fighting American and Reuben Flagg, the antihero of Howard Chaykin’s satirical series, American Flagg!

Fighting American has an interesting backstory. Created in 1954 by Kirby and his longtime creative partner Joe Simon — the same team who created Captain America nearly a decade and a half earlier — Fighting American reflected the anti-Communist paranoia of the McCarthy era. The character, whose original 1950s run lasted a brief seven issues, played like an over-the-top parody of the patriotic Cap, battling Red Menace stereotypes with names like Poison Ivan. It’s hard to tell whether Kirby and Simon were feeding off the tenor of the times or spoofing it, but I vote for the latter.

Unfortunately, as too often happens in comics, the character later fell into the hands of lesser talents who didn’t get the joke. When it comes to comics, “talents” hardly get “lesser” than those of Rob Liefeld, the poster boy for everything that went wrong with the industry in the 1990s. Liefeld’s Awesome Entertainment turned Kirby and Simon’s character into yet another of his own innumerable hyperviolent (and horrifically drawn) adolescent fantasies. Marvel Comics sued Liefeld for introducing elements into the Fighting American mythos that smacked too strongly of Captain America (which character Liefeld had drawn for Marvel before striking out on his own), including a Cap-like shield. (A compromise was reached between the companies which allowed Liefeld’s character to keep his shield, but not to use it as a throwing weapon.)

Like Fighting American, Howard Chaykin’s American Flagg! was a parody of its era — in the latter case, the ultraconservative Ronald Reagan ’80s. Chaykin’s series portrayed a near-future America in which the global economy crashed, the axes of power shifted (the most powerful nations on Earth became Brazil and a united Africa), and the U.S. government relocated to Mars to ride out the crisis. In the midst of it all, an out-of-work actor named Reuben Flagg lived out his former television role as a Plexus Ranger, a member of the cowboyesque police force sponsored by the Mars-based government and its corporate sponsors.

The quality of American Flagg! waxed and waned, depending largely on the connection Chaykin maintained with the project — which, after the first couple of years, wasn’t much. Still, the series provided an often-intriguing commentary on then-current events and attitudes, flavored with Chaykin’s penchant for ribald humor and wacky visuals.

Speaking of wacky visuals, when John Beatty took a look at the characters I’d assigned for his Common Elements commission, he decided to poke a bit of fun at the more ridiculous aspects of their respective costumes. Thus, his Fighting American is puzzled by the cowboy boots in Reuben Flagg’s Plexus Ranger ensemble, while Reuben wonders why his compatriot has donned his underwear on top of his tights. A hilarious idea, which John carried off beautifully.

As mentioned above, I had the privilege of watching John draw this piece online, thanks to modern technology. You, should you be so inclined, can check out the recorded video version. John was joined for the event by comic art collector (and noted Sylvester Stallone buff) Craig Zablo, and their lively banter about life and comics proved both insightful and entertaining. The entire presentation runs four hours — never fear, you can skip ahead as you wish — and is divided into two segments.

Here’s the link to Part One.

Here’s the link to Part Two.

Thanks to John Beatty for his outstanding artwork, and for allowing me to share the links to his video. If you enjoy John’s presentation, there’s also an edited video on YouTube chronicling the birth of my aforementioned Darick Robertson commission. You’re welcome to partake of that one as well.

By the way, there’s a Common Element between today’s two featured heroes that isn’t as obvious as it might appear. In addition to their similar themes and satirical approaches, both characters share the same surname — Fighting American’s secret identity is Nelson Flagg. Maybe he and Reuben are related, in a transdimensional sort of way.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

Collectors of comic art fall generally into two camps. Some collect published art — the original pencil and ink drawings from which comic books are printed. Others collect unpublished art, which encompasses drawings commissioned directly from an artist, drawings created by artists specifically for sale to fans, and convention sketches, which are essentially fast-turnaround commissions drawn at comic book conventions. Many collectors have both published and unpublished comic art in their galleries, but most specialize in one or the other.

As you know if you’ve been a Comic Art Friday for any length of time — whether in this location or at our prior address — my collection is almost entirely composed of the unpublished variety. The lion’s share of my holdings are pieces that I’ve commissioned myself, either directly from the artist or through a representative. My two signature theme collections, Common Elements and Bombshells!, both consist — in their entirety — of art that was drawn specifically at my request.

Why did I choose the path I follow? I’d be disingenuous if I didn’t acknowledge the economic factor. Published art, especially pages drawn by well-known artists or featuring iconic images of popular characters, can be quite expensive — classic cover art and full-page splash panels frequently run into four figures, and the truly great pieces fetch more than that.

There’s also an aesthetic issue. Because comics are a sequential narrative medium, a panel page in isolation doesn’t often hold much appeal for me. It’s a little like reading only one page of a comic book — without the rest of the story, it doesn’t make much sense.

That’s just my perspective, of course. And I do in fact drool over the collections of fellow hobbyists who’ve amassed impressive galleries of published work.

The real reasons I prefer commissioned art, though, are visceral. I relish the charge that comes with seeing, for the first time, an image that never existed before I commissioned it. And, I enjoy the satisfaction of looking through my portfolios at art that’s unique — nothing exactly like any of my commissioned pieces exists anywhere else.

Today’s featured artwork pretty well encompasses all of the joys of commission collecting in one incredible package.

The concept of a “battle of the bands” between Josie and the Pussycats and a trio of feline-themed females from the more serious end of the comics spectrum — DC’s Catwoman, Marvel’s modern-day Black Cat, and the original Black Cat from the Harvey Comics title of the 1940s — first occurred to me years ago, in one of those flashes of wild imagination that have spawned most of my Common Elements ideas. Originally, I’d thought about a three-artist scenario — a penciler with Archie Comics experience to draw the Josie half of the piece, a traditional superhero artist to draw the opposite half, and an inker to detail the entire page and give it a unified finish.

Then, some time ago, comics artist and commercial illustrator Gene Gonzales posted a Josie and the Pussycats sketch to his daily art blog. I liked his approach to these characters, so my mental wheels began turning. Gene has done several previous commissions for me, including one for Common Elements and three for my Bombshells! theme, so I knew that he could handle the superheroines as well. Plus, because Gene inks his own pencils, he could tie the completed piece together with style.

I proposed the idea to Gene. He embraced the scenario with gusto. Almost immediately, he sketched out a thumbnail showing how he might approach the concept. I loved his choices, and suggested a few minor tweaks. Gene was open to my ideas, and before long, we had a commission in the works.

That’s how magic gets made.

Some time later, Gene showed me the rough pencil art for his “Catfight of the Bands.” Gene noted that, because he would be inking the piece himself, he would add much of the detail as the art evolved from pencils to inks. I could already see, though, how much fun his vision of the scene would entail. (No pun intended.)

If you’re wondering why Gene signed the art twice, this piece is what’s called in the trade a double-page spread. Although intended for display as a single composition, it’s drawn on two separate pages of comic art board. Gene designed the image so that no character overlaps the center division. Thus, the half featuring the Pussycats is complete in itself, as is the half starring the rival band that Gene dubbed 9 Lives. In the unlikely event that I ever store this piece in a portfolio, each piece can occupy its own sleeve and still look like a complete picture.

Over our next two Comic Art Friday installments, we’ll take a closer look at each of our tuneful tigresses.

For now, that’s your Comic Art Friday.

If you’re interested in seeing the process that goes into creating a comic art commission, comics artist John Beatty recently produced a webcast, during which he partially inked a new Common Elements commission. Follow the link to view the replay of John’s webcast.

People approach me often and ask…

“Where do you get all of these crazy ideas for your Common Elements commissions? How does it enter into your brain to match Vixen and Comet, because they both share names with Santa’s reindeer? Or Deadman and the Huntress, because their first names are state capitals?”

I simply stare at such people with calm reserve and say to them, “Stay thirsty, my friends.”

Although I can’t explain my arcane thought processes, I do recall the genesis of the Common Elements concept featured in today’s Comic Art Friday artwork. I was surfing the cable box one evening a couple of years ago when I happened upon a showing of the 1994 film Immortal Beloved on one of the movie channels. In case you haven’t seen the film, it stars Gary Oldman as the legendary composer Ludwig van Beethoven (or “Lud,” as I like to call him). In the summer of 1812, Beethoven wrote a series of letters to an unidentified woman whom he addressed as “Immortal Beloved.” The movie portrays the investigation conducted by Beethoven’s secretary after the composer’s death, attempting to ferret out the secret identity of “Immortal Beloved.” (I’ll not spoil the picture for you, but suffice it to say that the mystery woman’s name does not turn out to be Rosebud.)

As I watched the movie, it occurred to me that there are at least two “immortal beloveds” in the comics pantheon — that is, immortal women who are the lovers of superheroes. Unlike Beethoven’s unknown paramour, there’s no secret about the identity of either of these. On the left is Sif — frequently referred to as The Lady Sif — the Asgardian warrior woman loved by the mighty Thor. On the right is Clea, apprentice and consort to the Marvelverse’s Sorcerer Supreme, Dr. Strange.

I chose Mitch Foust, who specializes in drawings of impressively beautiful women, to craft this pairing of immortal beloveds. Mitch drew the piece at his booth during this year’s San Diego Comic-Con. According to Mitch, the artwork engendered a considerable amount of fanboy discussion as to which of the two, Sif or Clea, would make the superior girlfriend, and which would make a better companion in battle.

From my perspective, this question — Sif or Clea? — is merely another variation on what I like to call the Eternal Question. You might be familiar with one or more of its other manifestations:

Ginger or Mary Ann?

Betty or Veronica?

Gwen or MJ?

Julie or Eartha?

Or, if you want to get all Biblical about the thing…

Leah or Rachel?

If you want my opinion — and of course you do, or you’d be reading some other blog right now — it’s Sif all the way. Oh, sure, there’s a certain je ne sais quoi about a woman who can do magic, like Clea here. But if you’ve ever seen, say, The Wizard of Oz or Sleeping Beauty, you know that those conjuring chicks can turn nasty on you in a heartbeat. Give me the broad with the sword (hah! pun!) every time. At least you can see her coming.

Also, if you’re keeping score, it’s Mary Ann, Betty, MJ, Julie — by a whisker, mostly because when I think of Eartha today, I think of her terrifying roles in Boomerang and The Emperor’s New Groove — and of course, Leah. (In the latter case, Jacob preferred Rachel for her beauty, while the homely Leah had greater domestic talents; i.e., fertility. As the late, great Flip Wilson once explained it: If you go for the homely girl, you know exactly what you’re getting. Besides, the pretty girl will get homely eventually anyway.)

Feel welcome to add your own answers to the Eternal Question in the comments section. Ladies’ perspectives (and alternative pairings) gladly welcomed — we’re all about gender equality here at SSTOL.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.