Allan Haverholm

Only this Friday, March 27th the photocopied pages for the lost, third volume of Big Numbers were made (legally) available on the Internet, some twenty years after they were produced.
What the big deal is? These are the last pages made for Alan Moore’s failed comic to end all comics.
On the heels of his groundbreaking Watchmen and V for Vendetta comics, Moore had soured on working for publishers that would steal the rights to his work, given half a chance. That disenchantment with the industry continues to this day, and has been widely publicized each time a movie has been made from his work, against his will and advice.
In the late eighties, spurred on by self-publishing comic creators like Dave Sim and Kevin Eastman, Moore’s escape was to form his own publishing company, Mad Love. An apt name, seeing that Moore’s business partners were his wife and their shared lover, who in Eddie Campbell‘s description had been the author’s “extended family” for years.
After the ruminations of Vendetta on anarchist theory, and the multilayered, self-reflecting intricacy that is Watchmen, Moore decided it was time to step away from the superhero fantasy and take on a subject matter based in reality, but made all the more fantastic by the fact. It was time to inspect and wield the Big Numbers that connect human life according to fractal mathematics and chaos theory.
(Interestingly, the story is set in a fictionalized version of the author’s own hometown Northampton, foreshadowing his later novel Voice of the Fire, which took place in that city over the course of thousands of years, a practice of manifesting a particular location’s genus loci that he has also used in “seances” like Snakes and Ladders, and The Birth Caul)
Over the years Moore has made light of the insane, meticulous planning he went through to sketch out his intended 12-volume interpretation of the Mandelbrot set: how Neil Gaiman “shat himself” when presented with the 2′x2’9″ sheet minutely charting the whereabouts of all the characters at any given point in the story.
And the strain of the complex, elaborate work speaks for itself: Artist Bill Sienkiewicz ran dry (some say he cracked) after carefully crafting two chapters of 40 beautiful pages each, and his assistant Al Colombia who had had a big hand in drawing chapter three also was promoted to take over his job entirely with chapter four.
Eddie Campbell, Moore’s collaborator on From Hell, vitriously lays out the scene in his How to be an Artist (pages 110-116), but I’ll keep it short:
Al Colombia’s work was destroyed by the artist in a fit, attempts to find a replacement were proved futile — Big Numbers sank like a rock, Moore’s wife and lover had decided three was a crowd, and all there was left in the rubble was those five square feet of paper mapping a lost dream.
Until, of course, the Age of the Internet came upon us. Instant, ubiquitous availability brought us gems thought dead and lost, such as the Star Wars Christmas Special and that ill-fated Fantastic Four movie. And for years, rumours circulated about existing xeroxes of the lost, remaining chapter of Big Numbers.
And that is where we come in. It goes without saying that the pages (or some of the pages, in different combinations and sequences, and varying degrees of xerosion) have been around on the Mules and Wires and Torrents of the internet for years now, but this is the first time that I know of that the full book has been made available, and with Moore’s blessing to boot, it appears!
By sheer coincidence, it all happened less than a week after I had actually bought my first ever copies of volumes one and two. I’d avoided the series because it wasn’t completed, but gave in, eventually. With the online publication of chapter 3, it is actually possible to read a quarter of the intended work, making it all the more painful to see what a subtle, intricate, engaging narrative is starting to take shape. Characters are coming to life from the outlines we meet in chapter 1, patterns emerge, possible story developments simmer in the horizon.
All forgotten dreams and wishes that will go unfulfilled. Or what? Heidi MacDonald, of comic news source The Beat, played a really lowdown and dirty April’s Fool prank recently, but that’s just cruel. No, after some eighteen years of dodging the subject, like that of a long lost girlfriend that broke your heart, artist Bill Sienkiewicz has expressed interest in taking on the project again, should the author be willing. “I’m older and wiser, and would approach the entirety of the book and series differently than I did then,” he states, implying probably that he is less prone to jump ship after all these years.
Whatever comes of that outstretched hand is up to Alan Moore, who has retired from mainstream comics, now dividing his time between work on his 2000 page novel, Jerusalem, magical practices, and the odd comic book work of love every now and then. Mainly, the latter have been in the context of his and Kevin O’Neill’s League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, but two years back he also finished Lost Girls, a book he started with collaborator Melinda Gebbie shortly after the demise of Big Numbers.
Moore is no stranger to longterm commitment to projects, and V for Vendetta was on an extended hiatus before it was finished and published, but I’m probably grasping at straws.
Big Numbers may well be left unfinished and, like some Gothic Revival mock-ruin, remain a monument to the creators’ insane ambition and eventual failure. The work might even leave a bigger impression in its amputated state than it would if it were concluded.
Judging from what is now available, there is little doubt in my mind that Big Numbers taken to its conclusion would have been a milestone in comics. Instead, the “Making and Unmaking of Big Numbers” has become a tale of caution to creators of even moderate ambition.
Many comickers have tried and failed to raise the bar, on a personal scale or for the entire medium. Yet none have floundered with such massive publicity, or leaving such wreckage as Moore and Sienkiewicz’ Big Numbers. Reading the first three chapters now is like entering an opulent cathedral, only to find the interior a shelled-out shambles; all walls tumbled down but the one you’ve come through, leaving only the idea of a cathedral in your mind. And the Big Numbers of my mind is still pretty damn huge.

Tags: Alan Moore, Big Numbers, Bill Sienkiewicz, the one that got away

There is a deep current of pop culture rebellion running through comics, especially of course in the underground scene. It’s only natural, then, that comics would sooner or later embrace the most extreme, antagonistic cultural movement of the late 20th century. A little surprising even that the comic Black Metal didn’t see publication until 2007, but that is apparently the time it took the (peripheral) mainstream to absorb the dark, angular matter.
Black Metal (the comic) is of course mainstream; it’s out on ONI Press rather than DIY photocopied booklets, for Odin’s sake! Writer Rick Spears and artist Chuck BB display enough kvlt coinaissance to convince that they aren’t scene stealers, however; even as they pull off a storyline that could be described as Bill & Ted in corpsepaint, there is a genuine sympathy for the main characters.
These leads are evil twins Sam and Shawn Stronghand, who in their solemn and nihilist struggle through junior high school existence come upon (and play backwards) a vinyl recording of the trve and unrelentingly otherworldly Frost Axe. By so doing, they summon a demon from the Pit, guarding the magic sword Atoll.
A sword that can only be wielded by the Roth, long dead baron of Hell … and Sam & Shawn, of course, since they are the split reincarnation of that infernal nobleman. It doesn’t make much sense, nor does their quest to settle scores with the rival Hell baron who once killed the Roth.
And who cares? The attraction of Black Metal lies in the heart and soul that is ironically invested in the brothers.
Despite their insistence on evil principles they remain teenagers at their core, and the story development deals with first loves and a growing acceptance of booger-eating half brothers, as much as with their battle with lesser evils.
That places the tale squarely in the territory of TIC rock comedies like Wayne’s World and the aforementioned B&T movies, but Spears and BB ensure their street (or fjell) credibility by planting references to black metal bands and the general bleak vision that surrounds the genre.
Still, there is a grownup’s amusement to the way the Stronghand twins are portrayed: As a-bit-too-solemn, almost gullible in their convictions as only pre-teens eagerly, desperately faking cool can be. Once again, the Bill & Ted factor of smirking at the protagonists while laughing with them
As such, the infusion of ice cold, nihilist (although mockingly so) black metal into that worn formula also breathes new life into it, and reminds we aged readers of what attracted us to it, apart from the misperceptions that Steve Vai was shit hot and that god gave rock’n'roll to Kiss.
Black metal being the purist art form that it is, however, we must define this as USBM – obviously, since it isn’t so self-denying as to be void of humor, and the use of genre as a means to an end rather than the musical expression of Ragnarok speaks for itself, too.
Personally, I could care less about the elitist aspects of the black metal scene, and quite clearly recognize Sam and Shawn’s posing from the endless stream of self-important bandshots in my old issues of Terrorizer Magazine.
What it all comes down to is that Black Metal is a book cunningly crafted with equal insight in genre, character, and staging. It is highly recommended anyone with the slightest inclination to metal, or to the jittery antics of obnoxious teens, or the black metal scene where the two join at the hip.

Tags: Alan Moore, Big Numbers, Bill Sienkiewicz, the one that got away

I honestly thought I’d seen the last media coverage on Santino the chimp when I wrote my previous post on him. Or, at least, I thought the low point had been reached.
People’s capacity for simplification and their hunger for lowbrow entertainment have no limits, though, and in today’s Swedish Metro he pops up again.
The headline to the pictured article reads “He applauded the queen”. Queen Silvia visited the Furuvik zoo where he’s kept, and the subject has changed from his paradigm-changing display of foresight onto that of her royal safety.
Reduced from a creature capable of abstract thought that may parallel our own, he is now described as a stone-throwing monkey that “didn’t get the oppurtunity” to take a swing at her highness.
Just as the press ignores that two weeks ago, Santino was cause for rethinking our view of how chimps (and possibly other animals) perceive the world, it is also forgotten that the poor guy has been neutered to counter his hostility toward guests.
I could go on about our devotion to royal bloodlines as a metaphor of how mankind see ourselves in relation to animals, but I can’t be bothered.
Nor will I draw parallels between the effects of castration on Santino’s behavior (and the loss of insight into the animal mind that that entails) and the way comfy, celebrity chit-chat disguised as reportage numbs the public mind and keeps the readers from having an opinion about anything outside primetime TV.
I’m really too sad and disillusioned, and yes, I just might go hug a tree now, thankyouverymuch.

Tags: Alan Moore, Big Numbers, Bill Sienkiewicz, the one that got away

Wednesday, like the day before, was basically a time of quiet, intense labour on the students’ part.
Free Comics ed. Torben Hansen was unfortunately late, and didn’t actually meet them, but he got to look at most of the comics-in-progress, and asked to be contacted by three of the students.
That, I think, is one of the greatest oppurtunities of working with a class like this – that I can use my network to get others published, sometimes with their first comic ever.
Thanks to a couple of students who had finished early, we had the exhibition area cleared quickly, and I was satisfied with the day’s work when I got on the train home.

Once again, Thursday was dedicated to more work, and I was glad to see that many of the class had worked through the night.
One by one, comics were finished during the first hour of today’s session, and we started getting the exhibition up. I’d had a vague idea about using fishing wire to string the sheets out between ceiling and floor, so they would appear form a distance to float in the air.
Instead we had to use the material at hand, a quite visible, fibrous, white nylon string. Although the illusion of weightlessness was gone, the string turned out to give a good sense of space, much moreso than the alternative, massive mobile walls.
The lightboxes used in session were also brought down one after another as comics were finished, to be used as displays for some pieces.
As deadline loomed closer, the hanging was still empty in some places but in the nick of time the last comics were hung, literally, to dry like laundry.
In my opinion the exhibition went brilliantly, and I overheard a lot of well-deserved praise for the artists. If nothing else, I am personally very proud of my students’ accomplishments over the course of four short weeks, and hope to hear of their progress in the future (in or outside comics)
And then it was over.
People seeped gradually out the door, and in the end I was left there with a few of my students, who appeared to feel the same anticlimax.
We lingered for a minute, but in the end, that was it. I could kick myself for not giving a speech, or at least gathering “my kids” one last time.
They will be missed, and I’m afraid some may abandon comic making now that I’m not there to bend their arms. They are a talented lot, and damn it, I would love to see some of that talent channeled into comics!
Time will tell I suppose. And an email from one of the gang, if I’m lucky

Tags: Alan Moore, Big Numbers, Bill Sienkiewicz, the one that got away

This was my view all day
I’m a proud little teacher, all remaining students are hard at work at their final product, each by their individual aesthetic and ability.
“Remaining students”, yes. As expected, some have fallen by the wayside, a few even quite recently as the ambitions were raised according to their general accomplishments.
In a relatively short course like this (ie, not an entire term, or even an actual education) there is only time to play catch-up on the students who have the motivation to learn.
Fortunately, those who don’t generally have the courtesy of staying away instead of bothering others with their presence.
I am very excited that my publisher at Brun Blomst and Free Comics, Torben Hansen, is coming by tomorrow to see the almost-finished comics, and hopefully handpick a few for his monthly magazine! Yay!

Tags: Alan Moore, Big Numbers, Bill Sienkiewicz, the one that got away

With the latest issue, #95, Swedish anthology Galago has reverted to its previous, large format. Although I was introduced to the magazine in the paperback incarnation, the return to form appears to me as a celebration of the many gifted artists appearing inside.
And outside: The gorgeous cover by Sara Granér (whose work is more oppressively haunting than actually pretty) as well as the straightforward little six-panel gag by Johan Jergnér Ekervik on the back cover, opposites in expression and tone, serve as bookends delineating the editorial width of the book.
Highlights in this issue:
A sarcastically environmental fable by Ruben Vargas Dahlstrand in Richard Sala mode.
Liv Strömquist explaining how children are really Right Wing Christians.
Rikke Bakman reminiscing on a school visit to a pig farm (followed by a healthy serving of sausage)
More Granér, and I could go on about her qualities so long I’d better save it for a separate post.
Marcus Nyblom does one fullpage, wordless illustration in his characteristic, garish flat colours that make me want to go out and buy Poska pens RIGHT NOW!
And Lars Sjunnesson returns with a somehow mellowed version of his anarchic staple character Åke Jävel, which is always cause for celebration.
And Henrik Bromander shines with a gut-wrenching, slice-of-life story of the downtrodden and lost.
Oh yeah, and there’s some Jeffrey Brown material, too, but for some reason his recreation of a Marvel Comics cover speaks more to me than the story of how Cat Power “saved his life”.
I’m skipping the text pieces in the first reading, but the great Joakim Pirinen had an essay entitled “Infracolonialism” which sounded bizarre enough to catch my interest.
Turns out it is a contrafactic short story written in appropriated archaic Swedish, describing the conquest of Sweden by an African tribe. Thought-provoking, I’m sure, but I’d personally rather read Pirinen’s comics than his writings. Instead three vignettes in African primitive style will have to sate my appetite for his visuals.
But that is a minor objection to an overall stellar issue of “Sweden’s only radical comic magazine”, a praise that could easily be ascribed to the near-100 issues as a whole!

Tags: Alan Moore, Big Numbers, Bill Sienkiewicz, the one that got away

On the last leg of my seemingly endless commute to the art school where I teach comics at the moment, I recently noticed signs like the one pictured marking pathways into a large area of tenements.
The Danish text (which I believe English readers might get a kick out of) translates as “- on a leash” which is a pleonasm; the dog is quite clearly shown to be leashed.
Or what exactly is that thing standing straight out and backwards from it’s neck?
There is no hand holding the loop at the other end, which is hanging limply in the air, trailing slightly after the moving dog (from the not quite horizontal angle of the loop and the gait of the dog, I would guess that it is trotting at a brisk pace).
The only dogs that I know to wear such stiff wrangling gear on their backs are seeing-eye dogs, but I don’t think I have seen a terrier used for that purpose before.
Perhaps it is a seeing-eye dog for blind children? Or small people? Or slightly bigger, blind dogs? Either way, the image of the stray paints a heartbreaking perspective:
Somewhere, its underage (or vertically challenged, or canine; but very definitely blind) dependant is left to fate by their mutt! Alone in a world of eternal darkness and, hopefully, only recent despair!
The burning question of HOW? WHY? is answered by the pictured dog’s lack of eyes. Although many terriers have magnificent eyebrows that need to be trimmed ever so often, we can rest assured that they are not the reason for the invisible eye.
As a helper dog for the blind (and short) it would be certain that the tufts of hair are trimmed regularly. Nor would the creature be of any service if it was one or both eyes short. No, this dog is clearly asleep.
This brings into question the language of the blurb below: even though the signs are posted in a Danish rural town, the surrounding five-floor buildings are commonly held in low status, and are quarter to many friendly foreigners.
Is this image in actuality *not* the polite reminder to restrain the dog, but rather a “wanted” sign for a missing friend, servant, and invaluable assistant?
If the latter is the case, the message “I snore” suddenly makes sense even in this form, garbled by the non-English writer’s deficiency in the only common language of the local populace!
All the more touching is this desperate cry for help, rendered as it is in neatly set type by a visually impaired child (or low-statured adult, or retriever).
If you see this dog roaming the larger Holbæk area, please report to the local police. It should be easily recognizable: it gives off a loud sound akin to the sawing of wood, and is a dark green.

Tags: Alan Moore, Big Numbers, Bill Sienkiewicz, the one that got away

Today i had an interesting discussion with Christopher Ouzman, editor at the publisher I work at. Talking about the recent media buzz concerning the new Comics Council, I mentioned the odd juxtaposition of one headline mentioning “comic art” (as in “high art,” not the generic English use of the word meaning any visuals applied to comic form) and an image sequence from Danish comic creator Palle Schmidt’s recent “Blodets Konkubine” (Concubine of Blood).
While I enjoy Palle’s work and eagerly await new material from his hand, said work is by his own admission an attempt at the Hollywood thriller; a great romp, superbly narrated, and an obvious candidate for American publication at Image or other big houses in that vein — but not necessarily fine art despite its qualities.
I believe Palle has gone for a blockbuster rather than a gallery hanging, and there’s no quality judgment in that, just different parts of comicry.
My esteemed ed. agreed to a point, but went on to debate whether comics *as such* could be seen as art, considering most comics are mass produced. Now, I don’t know how the general consensus is in the art world but I don’t think there is much disagreement about the standing of someone like Andy Warhol (Christopher contested that, too, but I believe he was just enforcing his point).
Printmaking artists printing small runs of individual pictures, say 150 copies; aren’t they making fine art? I believe that would depend more on their artifice than on the multitudinous nature of their work. And none of the 150 copies would be less a piece of art than a single, unique print.
The question is the old one of original vs reproduction. Having seen a real live Monet, I’ll agree that a poster of his waterlilies are a far cry from the oil paintings. It could even be argued, particularly in that case, that the original works have been devalued by the sheer amount of reproductions.
But what of the work that is intended for reproduction? Sketched up in blue pencil to dodge repro cams and scanners, and touched up with whiteout? Those are methods invented for and applied by industrial/commercial artists, true, but I would argue that great art *can* be produced with those tools.
We might as well discuss whether literature or film can be considered art. Those are mass media which, on occasion, produce masterpieces in between direct-to-DVD releases and Airport paperback thrillers. I’m not terribly interested in either medium, and will not attempt to point out artistic high points, but I do know there are certain strata of the culture sphere that think very highly of movies and books, respectively.
In all of the examples above, there can be no doubt that the instances of actual, immortal artwork are less than one in a thousand. Being mass media, comics as well as cinema and literature cater to the lowest common denominator — or, if that cannot be identified, the lowest *possible* denominator, just to be on the safe side.
There can be little doubt that fine art in comic form is less like a needle in a haystack, and more like a diamond in a shit heap, but to my eyes it does exist. And quite importantly, parallel to it there is a current of substantive, craftful comics that rise above the dreck, much like “Blodets Konkubine”, for which we should be grateful.

Tags: Alan Moore, Big Numbers, Bill Sienkiewicz, the one that got away

“The Mindscape of Alan Moore” went down well on Tuesday but when I tried turning it into a fast one-two combination with “In Search of Mœbius”, some fatigue seeped in.
Wednesday was time to turn in inspirational art for the “diploma comic”. That proved to be an alien concept to some students who either brought synopses for their comic or, in some cases, nothing at all. Also, three to four students were hijacked to an excursive trip with the silkscreening class, and even more were bedridden with some virus that’s running the dorm circuit.
So what was intended as a head start to the concluding assignment was somewhat stunted from the get-go. I did manage to communicate to the students present what ambitions I have on their part: that they transform the visual expression they bring from other disciplines into a graphic narrative form.
This time there are no limitations concerning panel borders, traditional tools, or straight storytelling; in other words, the gloves are off.
Unfortunately, that concept made some students nervous about giving their best shot, and I’ve had to repeatedly point out the level to which the bar has been raised.
And Thursday came repitition time again, as more students came back from sickness or Copenhagen, unprepared.
At least, by noon, most of these had finished layouts and at least some idea of the visual comic concept. We’ll see Monday if they have made progress over the week end.
During lunch I made plans for a collective exhibition with the architecture and design process teachers, in which our classes will show off their accomplishments. That way we can have a proper finale to the course, and I won’t have to print and staple any anthology mini’s.
Life can be fair.

Tags: Alan Moore, Big Numbers, Bill Sienkiewicz, the one that got away

Santino, a chimp in a Swedish zoo, has been discovered to be gathering stones and concrete fragments after opening hours, shaping them into disc-shaped projectiles in anticipation hurling them at the next morning’s crowds of gawkers.
His calm preparations for the morning’s bursts of anger and resent clearly show more foresight and conscience of his situation than a certain former US president, and has led behavioral scientists to conclude that Santino has an abstract “inner world” that animals (or Dubya) have not previously been considered capable of.
Obviously, this raises questions as to our right to keep animals imprisoned for display, and as the song goes, “if you tolerate this, your children will be next.” Extending the US comparison to a logical end, if we subject thinking creatures to that kind of treatment, the North American government might justify Gitmo by selling guided-tour passes to the public.
All jokes aside, if there is further proof of animals’ ability to think abstractly, ie. planning ahead, having an imagination, considering different scenarios depending on the outcome of events … If that is the case, we as a race will have to consider expanding the limits of civil rights gradually, as species by species may display characteristics that we in the past have thought unique to humankind.
Recently, the *current* American president was (consciously or unconsciously) likened to a chimp; an insult by the ruling paradigm, but not so much if Santino’s behavior is a common trait among chimpanzees. Quite generally, chimps are considered to possess mental abilities of a three-year old human. I happen to be the father of a boy that age, and I would contest his human rights with any means necessary.
In the very recent past, non-Caucasian families of humanity were held to be of inferior stock to the Western breed, and accordingly kept as slaves, or persecuted, or merely suffered lowercaocial standing and marginalization. There is a thin line between being sold as slave labor and being put on display for a minor fee. Either way you’re reduced to a trade good.
Now may be a good time to add that I eat meat, wear leather, and have always defended my right to do so, provided the animals whose bodily remains I have consumed were treated decently. That definition of “decency” may have to change now.
And Santino? Was of course castrated immediately to ensure the safety of the zoo’s paying visitors.

The Guardian

Tags: Alan Moore, Big Numbers, Bill Sienkiewicz, the one that got away