A Diary: Gold Bunny
Gold Bunny is a sketchbook. Pictures of graffiti make up its limited page count. But it is the way in which these images interact, and react, to the surfaces they are being created on that is at the heart of Gold Bunny. There are two surfaces Nou’s art appears on, those created through physical mark making on public surfaces, and those created through the acquisition of public resources as a surface for mark making. Ink infused onto concrete, and stickers adhered to stop signs. It creates the question of a narrative. Texture as a form of appropriation and art. A condensed version of a city wide art project, a comic made up of photos of images being made, and of images already made. The thought of mass consumption made out of white out and stolen postal stickers.
Lines printed on paper as delicate as capitalistic interests will allow the receipts of their transactions to exist on. The infinite scroll recreated within a finite number of inches, but requiring you to be careful at every moment of its unraveling or else it will tear from the sheer presence of your touch.
Christmas In Prison
by Conor Stechschulte
The binding of this book is so tight it seems to be trying to close itself in your hands.
Keeping the pages open becomes an active pursuit.
A book of a dozen titles, Christmas In Prison is a disjointed work of obsession filtered through a collection of odds and ends. Every page of every story reads like the idea of someone trying to figure out what exactly comics are, and can be.
The Future of Art 25 Years Hence
by Gary Panter
Watercolors or film overlays. Otherworldly vehicles and art theory discussed by half wits and geniuses. Panter drops a gem of a comic between the advertisement filled pages of an art magazine that buried it in the back pages.
By Blaise Larmee
(You can no longer read this comic online)
Two pixels by two pixels, grey and white boxes show a screen loading as slow as a dial up connection.
A Slug traverses the entirety of this comic.
Not a figurative slug, or the metaphor of a slug, but a literal slug. Moving from the upper edge of the panel to the bottom. Sequenced through a series of photographs of a single repeating panel, Larmee reconfigures the way the reader interacts with a comics panel. Every second the slug inches towards the right side of the page a new photo is taken, creating a new way to interpret the the weather battered image.
Angles and rain damage.