“We can not continue drawing always the same way, it’s a boring thing, it is one thing that ends up sinking a cartoonist”
I’ve been thinking about writing about Alberto Breccia for quite some time, the interview I did for Indie Spinner Rack finally gave me the kick in the ass I needed to finish this.
But I have a problem: I have so much ground to cover, so many things to say about him, that I end up frozen on the keyboard, wondering what to say about the man who’s responsible for making me choose this profession, this form I care and love so much.
(Panel from “Mort Cinder”, 1962)
I’m six years old. At the time I’m living in Castegnero, my hometown. A small, rural town (pop: 3000 souls) near the Italian city of Vicenza. I remember being in the town’s newsstand with my grandfather. I ask him to buy me one of those magazines with the weird, drawn covers. Inside the magazine I see this page:
(click to enlarge in a new window)
I was scared. Really scared. Had nightmares about the “Mano”, the character appearing in the third panel, for a couple of days. And, deep inside me, I knew that was what I wanted to do. I remeber telling to my grandfather “I want to make things like this when I grow up”. I only rember that he had a smile on his face. I can’t rember what he said.
I never got a chance to meet him. He died on november 10, 1993, I arrived in Buenos Aires on January 13, 1994. November 10 is the cartoonist’s day here in Argentina.
(Two pages from his “Myths of Cthulhu”, 1973. Click to enlarge)
Javier, one of my best friends, once met him. He was 15 years old, and he went to an exhibition of his works. Javier approached him, showed him some of his drawings, The Old Man looked at Javier’s eyes, and said to him:
“Keep drawing”.
Keep making this.
It is one of those stories that, after listening to them, you start to unconsciously make part of your own history. That phrase became a mantra of sorts to us.
Keep Drawing.
(Two pages from “Where the Tides ebb and Flow”, 1976. Click to enlarge)
I’ve always felt a great injustice in the fact that he’s not recognized all around the world like he should. Sure, he is known in pretty much every country of europe. But go outside of that, and you won’t find much more. Try to find one of his books in english. Or a language that’s not Italian, French or Spanish.
One could say that the fact that his work is avaible in those languages is more than enough. I agree to a certain point. But his books are not that easy to find. Even here, in this country, where he’s revered by pretty much everyone who decides to make comics, his works where unavaible for a very long time. Only in the last six years books have started to come out. The Myths of Chtulhu was a collector’s item for almost thirty years, and it has been published again less than six months ago.
(Two pages from “El Viajero de Gris”, 1978. Click to enlarge)
We’re talking about a man who was a creator on the same league as Harvey Kurtzman, as Bernard Krigstein, as Will Eisner, as Moebius, as Tezuka.
And if we start to discuss I could also point how he was superior to some of them on various aspects, but that’s not the issue, and it’s pointless do debate that now.
Since the 60’s, when he felt comfortable with the way he was drawing, he constantly reinvented himself. New techniques, new methods, new approachs. Boldly, without asking for permissions, without asking for consentment.
We all know way too many artists that, as soon as they get some success, keep on repeating the very same thing. For ten, twenty, even fifty years.
He never stopped moving.
It’s the most important lesson that he taught me:
Do your work with joy, and never stop moving.
Here’s to The Old Man.
Loris Z.
Extras:
For a little biography, read this wikipedia entry. Nothing spectacular, but it will give you an idea on his career.
For a good study about some of his works, Matt Brooker, also known as D’Israeli, wrote a series of entries in his blog. I encourage you to go read them.
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