August Round-Up | Returning to the old ways, new mini-comic, and thinking about music...
- Abs Bailey
- Sep 4
- 9 min read
It's been a busy month! I'm in full convention-prep mode, and my day-job in education has picked up big time, so it's all systems go over here. This is a little late because I got freshers flu!
In August...
I went to London to see the Leigh Bowery exhibition at the Tate Modern, the Yoshitomo Nara exhibition at the Southbank Centre.
I also ditched Spotify, as I'm not cool with my cash going towards an AI-slop war machine. In a timely twist of fate, my parents have been clearing out their attic and I was able to pilfer their old Hi-Fi setup and rescue the gems of my Dad's collection - Lots of 80s alternative, 90s Britpop, 2010s indie sleaz-y vibes. I've set it up on my desk (aka the kitchen table) and am more content than ever - This also marks a complete freedom from streaming subscriptions, which makes me happy.
Music has been heavily on my mind for multiple reasons this month. When I visited the Yoshitomo Nara exhibition in London, one of my favourite parts was the huge record wall - If you haven't been, it's a massive selection of about 300 vinyl slipcases from Nara's personal collection, which heavily influences his work. We share a lot of similar taste, as it turns out - So getting to walk around knowing which albums he might have been listening to as he created was really fun and added an extra layer to some of the pieces I might have overlooked if I wasn't aware of the music.
Similarly, in the Leigh Bowrey exhibition, there were videos of Martin Clark (among others) dancing to songs by The Fall, costumed by Bowery - There was a huge amount of intersection between music, movement, and visuals in Bowery's practice, which feels like a given since performance is such a big part of it - But seeing those films in particular really made me consider how deeply linked these things are across the art I seem to be drawn to, even within my own work. I feel better if I've listened to some good music and have moved about, and if I don't do them I get miserable. If I'm miserable, my work sucks.
I've returned to the old ways in more ways than a CD player. During the recent heatwaves my ol' reliable ipad has been overheating terribly, so I've been inking with my favourite old materials to mix it up - Biro and graphite stick on printer paper, scanned in and ready to colour digitally when the temperature becomes bearable again. There's something about this process that's been bringing me great peace. No spending hours picking the perfect playlist, no arsenal of fancy tools that can let me get so close to perfection that I agonise over it. I feel at home on my little rickety table, picking out a CD to play loudly and drawing loosely and quickly with an unpredictable, blotchy little pen; The entire process lacks polish and is full of fuck-ups, but it's fine because I made peace with it before I ever started. And it's only printer paper, so it's that bad I can start again, but it never is. I respect my own labour more this way and am more willing to accept the janky human-ness in my work, which I struggle to do with an all-digital setup. There's a weird point where when something is tangible and permanent I'm much more inclined to take it at face value, like I'll readily sit with my choices (the music I put on, or the lines I draw) when the concequence is real and in front of me, whereas if it's not physical (a file that disappears when I close it, or the ability to scroll through every playlist ever) then doubt creeps in, and I'll just endlessly explore options without ever comitting to something. It makes me braver, I guess.
Going back to those notes from Bowery's exhibition for a moment - Music, movement, visuals - I'm realising how central these are to my practice now more than ever. I'm almost always listening to music when I work, and the sound does inspire me, of course. But what really gets me are music visuals, or more specifically, music-related film and stage direction. I love The Human League's sparse, symmetrical stage setups and the strict control they pose over the viewer. How Stop Making Sense slowly adding elements of the band to the setting makes me feel like I want to tear things up and jump off a cliff in a weird sense of overwhelming euphoria by the time they reach What a Day That Was. How Martin Clark dancing to The Fall around huge, cartoonish flower-shaped stage settings in a baby pink void, wearing a wonderful blue velvet leotard breaks the boundaries of scale and well -Boundary - You can't define where the stage really starts or ends. There's so much here that translates directly to comics, where you're bending the format of panels on a page to get it tell a story in exactly the way you want it to. I approach my own work in a similar way I think - I've got the format, so now I have to think about how I can bend that within its limits to get a certain mood across. Comics are a performance, in an odd way; I'd love to figure out a way of getting one to feel like the equivalent of getting beer spilled on you in a lively crowd. I want to make a comic that makes you feel like your ears are ringing after you're done, or that feels like playing your favourite CD really loudly.
Here are a few albums I've listened to while making the work you'll see in the rest of this post:
What I'm working on...
Woof, waxed lyrical a bit up there. I'll make this quick!
I'm still working on with the mini-comic I spoke about in my last post, a queer, fantasy sci-fi(ish) retelling of the poem La Belle Dame Sans Merci by John Keats. It's coming on really well, I've just finished the interiors!
I'm going to get this Duplo printed, which is similar to riso, but only prints in black. It's a bit of a love letter to the materials I've used.
I'm also still working on my Fish Guy blind box figures - Everyone is prepped and primed now, and I've finished painting one batch of them. Only 50 more to go before MCM London in October! Hahahaha! I'm fine!
Sketchbook
Here are some sketchbook pages I liked from this month. I didn't make any journal comics because I was too busy doing other stuff.
Things I read this month
Bubbles Zine no.22: This is great, I can't belive I haven't read these before! The interviews are very thoughtful and get the artists talking about some really interesting topics, while still remaining relevant to their work and tone. I liked the interviews from Marc Torices and Leo Fox the best.
Rouge by Mona Awad: It's taken me like 3 months to read this, but not because of any fault of the book. I actually really liked it (I also loved Bunny). It's batshit in a very twee, gothy, 2010s way that appeals to me greatly. It kind of reminds me of Emily Carroll's work.
I also got around to reading everything I got from the LDC Comics Fair in July. I was going to put this in a seperate post but I've left it too long now, so it's here.
In my Shell I am Safe by Aleesha Nandhra: Having been through similar feelings to the ones depicted here, this really resonated with me. Nahdhra's quiet, conisderate exploration of re-connecting with a creative process uses pacing brilliantly to provide a sense of safety, inviting the reader to share in this vulnerable comic.
Bird's Eye View by Asia Kazub: This one caught me off guard! I really liked it; What starts as a pleasant escapist narrative descends into something a lot more unsettling (I won't spoil it here, though!). Wonderful use of colour and texture, and I'd reccomend reading with a vertical scroll so you can't see ahead.
Good Day by Zhenyi Zheng: This is such a lovely, soft comic that's very experimental and inviting, taking you along with the journey of the protagonist. I love comics that feel poetic and really enjoy the sort of visual style here - It looks wonderful, free and dream-like, but also means the format of the comic itself needs to be strong enough to carry itself: Good Day does this amazingly here with strong, well cosidered form and pacing.
Delayed Outing by Toria McCallum: I love a hopeful narrative, and this fits well into that category, all the while exploring feelings of missed experience, self-identity, and glimpsing into the day dating scene. A prominent use of colour and lovely reminder that while it's hard out there, we'll be okay with time.
The Ecstacy of Jenny D by Pigeon: Pigeon has been describing this as 'Bridgerton meets the Dancing Plague', which I think is highly accuracte. This comic is quirky and charming (and full of whimsical visuals), so much so that the elements of dread and euphoria hit you right in the chest, where you'll feel all the more deeply for it. A great read that will have a kickstarter for the full colour version soon. Check it out here!
Shimmer Paths by Beastly Worlds: Bea's comics are otherwordly works of art, and Shimmer Paths boasts distinctly adorable characters and deep watercolour artwork that left me utterly charmed. I don't want to spoil too much about the plot itself, but this will leave you feeling like you've just had a good hug; If you want to get someone curious about self-published comics, this would go down a treat.
The Keluarga Cable Ship Company by Mereida Farjado: When people say Mereida is taking the form of comics and totally smashing it, they aren't kidding - Both in the way that she's doing an incredible job, and that this comic will change your views on what a comic can even be. I don't want to spoil much, so I'd recommend diving in and enjoying each read (because you will read it multiple times).
Dream Machine by Ky Lawrence: I'm a sucker for grungy texture at the moment, and I love weird f*cked up little dog fellas who are sad, so this was right up my alley; Dream Machine explores madness, longing, and guilt so suitably and interestingly that I want to lurk in it's dark corners again and again and again.
Looking back
Circling back to music again, here's something niche from the archives: Thunderchair's anthology, Hyper Galactic Rockstar Champion: Royal Rumble! When I think about what comics are all about, this is it for me. HGRC:RR was a collaborative anthology created back in 2018, maybe? And featured a range of artists competing head-to-head in a battle of the bands... On paper!
We all created a character - Mine was a creepy old wizard called Merlin McStrange, who was horrible and stinky, and played a keytar that held his ex-wife's trapped spirit. Next, we got paired up with another artist, and had to draw our characters beating theirs in a battle of funky beats, then a winner was chosen to move to the next round. Merlin battled his all the way to the end, eventually claiming the throne. I was watching a lot of Adventure Time and The Mighty Boosh around this point, so that probably influenced his character a lot.
In true Thunderchair fashion, this was celebrated at a launch of the printed comic at Cafe Kino in Bristol - A night of strange musical performance art, a bunch of cool comic folks having a ton of fun, exploring our musical interests, and making something really dang cool in the process.
And that's all for this post! Thanks for sticking around if you got this far. See you next time.
P.S. Just a small reminder that my shop is open:
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