Quick review of Thunderbolts*: It’s great. One of the best Marvel movies, and generally a really good movie. It didn’t have any of those producer-heavy elements. There is an element to the story that it has in common with Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantomania, and the strength of the film is that they tackle it in the opposite way. In doing so, it became the exact kind of superhero story I’ve been waiting to see. It’s really great and worth watching. Like all Marvel movies, they do a good job giving you the gist of what everyone’s deal is so that you can watch it no matter what, but I also get it if you don’t want to watch it because you won’t know all the details. On another note, I also really liked that they made a special popcorn bucket/drink combo, where the cup is an asterisk that fits into the bucket lid. Fun bit of marketing.
I’ve finished up plans for chapter three of my next zine project, and have a rough idea of chapter four to expand upon. I’m feeling really good about how this is going. I had actually thought I’d finish chapter three planning earlier because I had this clear image of how the ending would go. I backtracked and planned out the whole back half from that point, and so all I had to do was plan out how the first half would use the base elements I outlined. So I did that, and thought the rest would fly. Turns out I had used the first page of the second half as the last page of the first without realizing it, so I had to scramble and rethink the whole thing. It turned out better than it was before, really. Wild night.
I also had a page that I needed to write dialogue to plan. I go back and forth on whether or not I need to write dialogue to plan a page. I used to always do it, but now I can plan around actions more in a lot of cases, so long as I know what the gist of the page is. There are some sequences where the words matter, though. It can be hard to plan a conversation without knowing what’s said. Like, the page I needed to write for, the action of it was a speech, right? It’s hard to plan out a page of images to go along with a speech that hasn’t been written, because that’s where you get the rhythm of it all. Similarly, I have a sequence in the first chapter where the dialogue doesn’t directly line up with the panels, but there are storytelling moments that I needed to hit in conjunction with the conversation; I couldn’t do just the panels because they would have felt like nonsense, and I couldn’t just do the dialogue because it needed to fit the rhythm of the pages. Other pages, though, I don’t need to write out exactly what’s being said because I can think out general ideas and plan out the actions. I guess I’ll find out if I can do dialogue properly when I get to that point. I think I can. Another lesson I didn’t know I learned from redoing Bet Your Sweet Bottom, where it was easy not to write all the dialogue during planning because I had already done a version of it before.
Was any of that interesting to you? I know I’m writing for myself, mostly, but I also really enjoy talking about the literal, logistical experience of making art. I’ve talked about this before, that I believe in demystifying art so that it’s more accessible. There’s no real reason why only “special people” get to make art, you know? You can just do it. At the same time, the fact that it’s “a thing you can just do” doesn’t mean it isn’t special. I want to expand more on what I think is at the heart of the “art problem.”
I wrote for a while just now about the logistical aspects of making comics because it’s what I was doing, and so I found it interesting. The nitty-gritty of planning a comic, or any story, is to figure out what everyone and everything is literally doing that moment. In theory, of course, anything could happen, and it’s easy to fall into a trap where you just sort of let it flow without intention. I’ve certainly had a lot of that in failed projects. To know what actions and moments to pick, you have to have an idea of what needs to happen for the story and characters and whatnot. To know that, you have to know what story you’re telling, what it’s about and/or what you’re trying to communicate. You have to take those concepts and desires, translate that into a logic of how a story should move, beat out the sequence of events to carry out that story, and drill down into what literal actions need to be taken in each scene.
In short, you have to find the reason, the meaning, behind every individual aspect of what you present. Nothing appears on the page for no reason, and no reason is too small, so long as it all contributes to the whole. It’s a very different way of thinking and moving than how most people think about their own lives. My experience growing up was that if you expressed any kind of meaningful, romantic thinking, it was crushed pretty fast. Anything unusual or new was treated with immediate derision by my peers. Like, not in the sense of active bullying; it’s more an attitude of, “Oh, you think this weird thing, huh?” The prospect of showing any vulnerability or genuine belief was dangerous, because it felt like I wasn’t supposed to have big thoughts about the world. I’m taking things too seriously, I’m reading too much into it, it’s just a thing that happens. Nothing means anything, just let people do whatever they want and indulge in empty activities that ping the endorphins.
There’s a lot to go into with this attitude I’m describing, like the toxicity of individualism, the coopting of scientific skepticism, and capitalist propaganda. Suffice it to say, the reason why I love saying, “Art is just a thing you can do,” isn’t because it’s another mindless indulgence. It’s special because you can choose it for yourself. It’s an exercise in finding, shaping, and creating meaning in your own life. That choice has power, and you don’t have to know all the reasons at the outset. It’s enough to do it because it brings joy and a sense of purpose. Everything takes time to figure out.
I wonder if this is a neurodivergent thing. A common feature of neurodivergence is “executive dysfunction,” which describes how much harder it can be to make decisions than neurotypical people. Because it’s in that scientific language, we’re culturally trained to wash away larger meaning from it, which makes the act of making decisions sound cold and unfeeling for everyone. Maybe instead of it being a “dysfunction” about decision-making, it’s actually caring a lot more about the weight and value of decisions, and by making it a purely functional concept, you’re erasing that weight and value for neurotypical people, too. A big reason I have trouble making decisions is that once I do, I feel 1000% committed to it, so it has to be the right decision. Not only is art a good outlet for that kind of meaning-making with decisions, but it’s also giving me a framework and a reason to learn flexibility and play in regard to choices. Like, did you know that it’s actually ok to change your mind, or throw out something you put a lot of effort and enjoyment into because it’s not the decision you actually want to make and you have the ability to make something better? It’s wild.
Weekly Art Blog 4/27-5/4/2025
Life in the Gutters 