One of my favorite ridiculous phenomena of the Victorian Era: the spirit photograph. You could pay money to be photographed and have the supernatural forces around you revealed on a silver plate, be it ectoplasm or be it a mournful feminine face lost a diaphanous swath of otherworldly chiffon.
To the contemporary eye, they’re hilariously, magnificently fake; half-baked tricks of photographic exposure. To me, they’re the perfect combination of anthropology and art, like old sci-fi movies set in a now outdated future. They’re trying to envision something separate from their time and place – death, the year 1995 – but, hampered by their own chintziness, never achieve the escape velocity that real works of speculation or awe do. We are looking at the lowest common denominator for how Victorian-era people (those who could afford a photograph, anyway) conceived of the afterlife.
Their origins are very cynical, these photos, but their falseness has now become quaint and pathetic. Most of these photographers knew that they were scamming customers, but I wonder how many of them were lulled into thought that they were doing a pretty good job at interpreting an actual spirit world. Just helping it along, as it were.
For, example, of this photograph, the National Media Museum makes this note:
“The image of a young man’s face appears prominently over the man, draped in a cloak. The signature at the base of the image belongs to the sitter. The man had links with the person who compiled the spirit album, and he gave the photograph to her as a keepsake. He apparently recognized the young man’s face.”
Did any of these photographers avoid either the pure cynicism of a scammer or the self-delusion of being the spirit world’s darkroom assistant, and instead settle on the middle notion that they were simply giving people comfort?
“A photograph of a mourning scene, probably taken by William Hope (1863-1933) in about 1920. A woman mourns for her husband in a Chapel of Rest, standing by his body which is wrapped in sheets and laden with flowers. The woman’s son stands beside her. The image of a man’s face has been superimposed over the original photograph. The spirit album notes that the family were Roman Catholics and believed in life after death.”
It does make me think about where we we might ourselves, here in this smug moment of the present, be sitting (unbeknown to us) on a little velvet chair, waiting for the nice man to take the exposure and show us another world – above, below, ahead. And about how the effects of sorrow are the same in any time and any place.
My maternal grandfather died a couple of years ago.
We were very fond of each other – he took me to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival (a full day and a half drive) from 7th grade through my high school graduation, a gift of immeasurable impact. He was a bright, curious, caring, and endlessly enthusiastic man. He reacted with genuine joy whenever his didactic little granddaughter held forth on erudite topics. I still remember his delight upon hearing me tear apart the production of Romeo and Juliet that was one of the first productions we saw together at OSF.
I didn’t ask for anything of his after he passed away; my mother knowingly brought me a few things that meant a lot, but all in all my memories were the most vivid token of our relationship. Recently, however, his last wife sent my mother a number of his old files. Including one entire manila folder full of every letter and picture and document I had ever sent him, or that my parents had sent him relating to me.
So I’ve rediscovered verything from short stories I wrote in second grade to novellas I wrote in middle school to graduation notices and e-mails and silly cards. I haven’t quite had the strength to go through all of it yet, but one thing I did find: the poem below. I remember this odd, apocalyptic little poem quite well but had no record of it myself, so knowing that he had it all along is very touching.
And, now that he’s gone, the poem – being as its topic is a girl with a fondness for the departed – takes on a sweet poignance.
Anyway. Here it is.
Annie stayed.
Annie McSalva stood that day
but no one was there to enjoy her stay
only the ghosts had not gone away
Annie remained for the ghosts.
Annie McSalva walked down the streets
her feet tapping sidewalk to various beats
She looked in the theatres, all empty seats
Annie played Hamlet for ghosts.
Annie McSalva read all the books
out loud, in the library, and none gave sharp looks
the ghosts listened well in their crannies and nooks
Annie read on for the ghosts.
Annie McSalva swam in the pond
that led to the gutters and sewers beyond
but nobody stayed to drink that which was fond
to Annie, who swam with the ghosts.
Annie McSalva lay in the sun
and thought that the world had only begun
but the ghosts whispered back that it almost was done
Annie survived with the ghosts.
photo by Nocturnal Bob
Another week, another drawing of somebody else’s character! Continuing with the unintentional theme of “naked green ladies”, this week it’s Angora from The Meek, by Der-shing Helmer.
Sadly I drew this sucker on Bristol, and had to use my four remaining Colerase pencils – or else I would’ve watercolored again.
I’ve been gawking at The Meek since shortly after it started up, so it was a pleasant surprise to turn up at APE and see actual print copies of the first chunk!
The Meek is one of the few comics that manages to be densely, lushly illustrated… and lively. Too often an artist will lavish all their time on the coloring or the stylish character design…and forget to inject life through gesture and interaction or, you know, writing. The result is eye candy that I get bored with about ten pages in.
But Der-shing has been knocking it out of the park for several dozen pages now. I can’t wait to see where she’s going and how these delightful, elastic characters are going to smack into each other.
Also? I adore how she draws Angora’s boobs.
This concludes Chapter Two of Family Man – and therefore Volume One. Starting today I get to research potential costs for a print edition. I’ll be shopping it to publishers as well, but since this is, after all, Volume One and therefore presents a bit of a risk, I’m anticipating the need to self-publish it until I have the structure for Volume Two mapped out in a format understandable by other human beings.
I’m expecting that Volume One will be pricey to print; the comic loses legibility when printed in fewer than four colors (even though it LOOKS like the only color is sepia-green). So stay tuned for a possible pre-order fundraising drive. If you’ve had a great experience getting a color project printed, please refer me to your print vendor!
BUT, THE BIG NEWS…
…I’ll be taking three weeks off of updating the comic to get a head start on the next chapter. In the meantime I’ll be updating with drawings, a podcast, and other extras. When I come back, Family Man will move onto a single, cohesive self-hosted website.
The comic itself, blog updates, notes, gallery images, cast page…all brand-new and all at Lutherlevy.com. The site will have a complete (and extremely sexy) Comicpress overhaul courtesy my slightly unhinged design skills and the eternal patience of Comicpress guru Tyler Martin.
No ads! No subscription fees! Still free as always, just lots prettier and in one place.
I’d like to thank Joey Manley and the other folks who’ve pitched in at Webcomics Nation for providing a really great service. WCN has saved me a lot of hair-tearing in the past few years. If setting up your own webspace and installing WordPress and Comicpress and customizing your theme and all that just feels utterly daunting to you, I totally recommend wandering over to WCN and checking out their features.
And now, back to the drawing board!
Ariana’s mysterious doings continue in their mysteriousness. Let me tell you, the research I did for panel four was one of the more stomach-addling things I’ve researched yet for this comic. There will be others!
Appearances: unless this incipient cold takes me down, I’ll be at the Wordstock Festival here in Portland this weekend with Erika Moen. I won’t have books to sell (I’m reserving my stock for APE, so that California folks get a shot at the last of the first edition), but I’ll have prints and minis and buttons and stickers, and if you order the book from me I’ll send it to you with free shipping as well as a limited edition print.
Then I’ll be at the Alternative Press Expo (APE) in San Francisco on October 17-18, gossiping about dead people with fellow history cartoonist Kate Beaton at Table 440.
I’ll see y’all there!