KID ETERNITY

“There’s only one joke worth laughing at and it’s the joke of existence”. Too existentialist for you? Well, if it is, I strongly advise you to take a few classes of contemporary philosophy and come back to Grant Morrison’s KID ETERNITY. This is not your average retcon or your regular miniseries about an obscure character of the DC Universe. This is a metaphysical adventure that involves super-powered beings, hereafter metaphors and even hell itself, albeit a hell so chaotically ferocious only Mr. Morrison could have come up with.

Kid Eternity was one of those characters that wouldn’t have escaped oblivion if not for Morrison’s attempt of bringing it back for a more postmodern audience. But what does postmodernism has to do with it? Well, our era has strengthened the exscinded subject. We live in more schizophrenic times than, say, a century ago. Kid Eternity is the battlefield in which the never ending struggle of unconscious versus “conscientious I” carries on. I’m not suggesting that this work is less complex than others, but certainly at first glance it might look a bit more complicated, which is why I think psychoanalytic theory can come in handy, specially Lacanian theory. Jacques Lacan stated that there is no ‘I’ in the subject. The ‘I’ is the ego, and as such can remain pretty much consistent throughout time. The subject, on the other hand, as the very words implies, clearly derives from subjectivity and it’s prone to alteration and constant modification. Kid Eternity is both: ‘I’ and ‘subject’. However at the beginning of the story there is no divisiveness, the kid is still whole. As the story moves on changes are put into place and the reader discovers along with Kid Eternity that identity relies heavily on the gaze of the other. After all, the only question that matters is “what am I in the eyes of the other?”.

Much has been said about deconstruction; nonetheless Morrison takes upon a rather different approach which I could denominate de-configuration: the fragmented narrative lines, the seemingly chaotic order, the focus on multiple unrelated moments have but one goal which obeys a carefully orchestrated tapestry displaying different characters experiences and interpretations of what’s going on. In the end nothing is random: Kid Eternity, Jerry, the Priest and the Woman will each play a fundamental role in chapter three; for the readers, though, this grand design might make little sense in the first pages. The Scottish writer’s work in this case is more akin to such films as David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive which requires a much larger amount of work and concentration; these authors will not spoon-feed the public, quite the opposite indeed. De-configuration then is the key to understand what Morrison is trying to do in this miniseries.

It’s up to you, the one holding the book, to come up with the answers. All necessary hints are provided within the 144 pages lavishly illustrated by Duncan Fegredo, an amazing artist that creates remarkable images. Why is it that “Kid Eternity” goes very much unnoticed by most Morrison fans? If only for the art alone this is a miniseries deserving of praise. Perhaps it is the complexity of underlying themes, from Saussure’s linguistics (signifier versus signified): “there is no meaning, the sound is the meaning” to the apparently inconsistent nature of Kid Eternity. It is then necessary to understand that consistency has no place in this tale, because as the kid learns while facing the Unnamed Five, reality can dissolve and reconfigure very easily. The audience with the Five, arcane creatures of uncanny power, reveals a number of things: first of all, Kid Eternity has spent years fighting for forces he did not know at all, he will then be shocked as he understands who has he been secretly serving all this time; but it’s not just a dramatic anagnorisis, this information changes everything about him. Thus the ‘I’ and the ‘subject’ become exscinded as required by postmodernist guidelines. In the same way Kid Eternity’s subject has been built upon safety blankets, id est, repressing the traumatic memories of his childhood (he had been sexually abused by a pedophile captain), his identity had also been built upon false pretenses, thus the impact of the truth threatens to destroy the very ‘self’ of the character. Rather than deconstruction I’d like to think of this as a much needed de-configuration of a character that otherwise would have remained forever forgotten.

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"La única broma de la que vale la pena reírse es la broma de la existencia". KID ETERNITY de Grant Morrison es una aventura metafísica que apela a diversas corrientes intelectuales y que involucra personajes del Universo DC, seres sobrenaturales y un infierno tan caóticamente desquiciado que solamente Morrison podría haber inventado.


¿Quién es Kid Eternity? Bueno, es uno de esos tantos personajes de DC que podrían haber permanecido para siempre en el olvido si no fuera por Morrison. Se trata de un sujeto escindido, es decir, un sujeto típicamente postmoderno (recordemos que la postmodernidad está más vinculada a dinámicas esquizofrénicas de lo que podríamos adivinar a simple vista). Lo interesante es que la diferencia que establece el psicoanálisis lacaniano entre el yo y el sujeto está claramente presentada en la personalidad de Kid Eternity. El yo vendría a ser el ego, mientras que el sujeto estaría supeditado al super-ego y al mismo tiempo sería vulnerable a alteraciones y constantes modificaciones. Cuando Kid Eternity descubre que todo lo que ha hecho en los últimos años ha sido en beneficio de fuerzas siniestras empieza la crisis. Porque, al fin y al cabo, si lo vital es la respuesta a la clásica pregunta "¿qué soy yo en los ojos del otro?", entonces Kid Eternity se preguntará qué es él ante el mundo. Si su vida ha consistido en servir a las fuerzas equivocadas y en reprimir las verdades traumáticas (entre ellas, el abuso sexual que sufrió a los once años a manos de un capitán pedófilo), ¿cómo evitar la escisión final y el desmoronamiento de la identidad?

Hot Paintings - Antica Trattoria (L’Anfiteatro)

El último fin de semana fue un tanto decepcionante. Dos amigos, dos amigas y yo partimos de Lima rumbo a Cocoa, Asia, el viernes en la tarde. Era la semana del chilcano y yo estaba absolutamente seguro de encontrar todo tipo de ofertas fabulosas y descuentos magnánimos en el Wong de Asia. Grande fue mi decepción al descubrir que esta fecha emblemática era absolutamente ignorada en el Bulevar. Bueno, ya será para el día del pisco sour (ahí sí el Wong de Asia se pone las pilas todos los años). En todo caso, aproveché para tomar una botella de Châsse (un merlot francés que descubrimos ese fin), un par de pisco sours y, lo más importante de todo, pude tomar algunas fotos.


El jueves de la semana pasada asistí a la inauguración de la muestra colectiva Hot Paintings en L’Anfiteatro de Antica Trattoria. 


También incluyo un adelanto de las dos páginas que dibujé para Joe Kalicki. A continuación la primera página:
 

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BRAT PACK

Batman and Robin are the ultimate gay fantasy said a whacky shrink a few decades ago. And with those few words he became probably the most well-known psychiatrist in 1950s America. And thus the censorship era begun, and comic book publishers had to comply with a set of guidelines not very different from the Hays Code that ruled cinematographic productions.


The “Approved by the Comic Code Authority” seal remained well into the first decade of the 21st century, and in many ways will remain if only as a ghostly residue that could withhold creativity. Decades of control, decent guidelines and moral correctness cannot be forgotten overnight. American comic books, for better or for worse, will bear the mark of the code, but unlike branded cattle, this is a mark imprinted heavily upon the minds of creators and readers alike. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, after all, Jacques Derrida pointed out not too long ago that social structure relies deeply on certain marks, inscriptions or imprints that we can trace back in order to better understand social structures.


But, what happens when the “ultimate gay fantasy” is taken to the limits? What happens when the ambiguous interaction between a caped crusader and a young sidekick is reinterpreted for a more adult audience? The result is Rick Veitch’s shocking Brat Pack. Plagued with references to the comic industry, but moreover with parodies of well-established superheroes, the Brat Pack is a 160 page graphic novel divided into 5 chapters.


Sometimes it’s all about the media. That’s made clear in the first pages, with the host of a popular radio show named Neal Dennis (let’s remember that Dennis O’Neil and Neal Adams did one of the most famous runs on Batman) who will be later mirrored by Gay Neilman (an obvious reference to British comic book author Neil Gaiman). Readers can easily identify who is the reference for certain characters. But what’s going on with the media throughout all this? Paraphrasing Jacques Lacan I could point out that the gaze of the other defines us, in many ways, some more literals than others, we “make ourselves seen” to the other because we need to. Talking about celebrities, it all becomes clear, they demand attention and without high ratings (id est, the gaze of the other) they’re nothing. Exactly the same thing happens with the heroes’ sidekicks, their existence is determined by the fierce gaze of the public. That’s why, in another clever homage, the final fate of these sidekicks will be determined by the audience of the radio show, people call in and vote, just like they did in real life to determine if Robin (Jason Todd) would either live or die in the famous Batman saga “Death in the Family”.


In the second chapter the heroes are desperately looking for replacements. New flesh. It’s the Midnight Mink (the caped crusader with a cool car and a big mansion that parodies Batman) who’s especially eager to find a new young boy, “And my Chippy? Did you find the right type? You know what I like” says to the priest who has, for a long time, recruited naïve kids for undisclosed purposes. It’s then that the reader witnesses the lives of three boys and a girl, in a masterfully executed narrative that intercrosses their perspectives while comparing their backgrounds and personalities.


The training of these youngsters takes place in the third chapter. And when the heroes take the kids under their wings, the reader comes close to a different model of super-hero: from the Midnight Mink’s promiscuous attitude and a certain keenness for nudity, to the repulsive and decaying female body behind Moon Mistress’s costume, to the alcoholism and recklessness of King Rad, to the sexual impotence and bigotry of Judge Jury.


In the penultimate chapters, the sidekicks must face menaces no normal hero would even imagine. Chippy is constantly accused of being sodomized by Midnight Mink, Moon Mistress’s ally is about to be raped by a bunch of hooligans, King Rad’s ward falls deeply into alcoholism and Kid Vicious follows the steps of Judge Jury trying to put in practice racial cleansing.


In the final episode, a year has passed by, and the once innocent and pure children are now corrupted souls that have been either physically or mentally abused by their tutors. Just like it was hinted at the beginning, one’s greatest desire is to be the object of desire of the other, and the young sidekicks have been victimized precisely for being so quickly objectified, thus achieving great success in being desired and most coveted by their masters / heroes. But just like in Hegel's Master-Slave Dialectic one cannot exist without the other, and the adult heroes cannot survive without the Lacanian gaze of the other, which is why, when the sidekicks risk their lives for good, they get worried. This equation, like any other, can no longer exist if one of the items is untimely removed.
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En la década del 50 un psiquiatra norteamericano se hizo famoso al acusar a Batman y Robin de ser el símbolo de las fantasías homosexuales reprimidas. El público, e incluso el senado, concluyó que esas perversas publicaciones conocidas como comic books eran demasiado peligrosas para los niños, y así empezó la Edad de la Censura.

Luego de muchas décadas, Rick Veitch decidió llevar esta fantasía gay al extremo para un público adulto. El resultado fue la extraordinaria serie BRAT PACKS, que explora la relación ambigua entre dos personajes que parodian a Batman y Robin.

Urbanismo (Galería Vértice) [] Carnaval toda la vida (Galería Cecilia González)

Photos only. Both inaugurations yesterday had focused on photographers. The first one was Jorge Vera’s Urbanism in Vértice Gallery; and the second one, with works of Zoe Massey, took place in Cecilia González Gallery. There I run into Paola Tejada and artist Marcos Palacios, among other friends.


So after so many photographs it was only natural that I would use some photo-ref for the next drawing.


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Todo fue fotos. Las dos inauguraciones de ayer miércoles se enfocaron en la fotografía. La Galería Vértice presentó “Urbanismo, visiones de autoexilio y vida urbana” de Jorge Vera. Me llamó especialmente la atención la foto titulada “Biscayne Boulevard” que, por asociación metonímica, me hizo recordar mi breve periplo laboral en el Ritz Carlton de Key Biscayne (fines del 2006-comienzos del 2007).


En la misma noche, la Galería Cecilia González inauguraba otra muestra fotográfica, con trabajos de Zoe Massey. Una propuesta original y atractiva, unidas a los ingeniosísimos títulos de algunas de las fotos fueron más que suficiente para satisfacerme. Allí me encontré con Paola Tejada y el artista Marcos Palacios, entre otros amigos.


Así es que después de tantas fotos, es comprensible que mi próximo dibujo tomase como referencia una foto del suplemento Q.

Ludic Spirits. [] MALI (3) / José Alcalde Espíritus Lúdicos ICPNA. [] MALI (3)

This Thursday, albeit a bit unpunctual, I went to the inauguration of Ludic Spirits. I wasn’t familiar with the work of José Alcalde, but I was happily surprised by his imaginative use of coloring and the displays of lightness and clarity that seemed to suggest extraordinary dimensions to his paintings. I run into a few a friends and I talked with a lot of people in the couple of hours I spent there. However, I found it especially gratifying to meet and talk with famous artist Rhony Alhalel.


The next day I had the chance to stop being an absent figure in the reunions/parties of my Viceversa Consulting colleagues. We were in the historic center of the city, in El Directorio. The only time I had been there before so late at night was during the inauguration of Lima’s Film Festival when the honor guest was Mario Vargas Llosa. I was there because my good friend Joshua Peña invited me, and we arrived one or two minutes before the now famous Nobel Prize winner did.


Finally yesterday I visited the MALI (Art Museum of Lima). Three simultaneous exhibitions were taking place: contemporary art, XIX century artist Luis Montero and pre-Columbian textile works. A must see.


After all of that, I was a bit overwhelmed and all I could come up was a small drawing inspired in Paul Gulacy’s early 80s work. Penciled sketch plus inked version.


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El jueves asistí, aunque un tanto impuntualmente, a la inauguración de la muestra Espíritus Lúdicos en el ICPNA. No conocía la obra de José Alcalde pero quedé gratamente sorprendido por el imaginativo uso de los colores y en especial por los juegos de luces y claridad que parecen sugerir dimensiones extraordinarias en sus principales cuadros. Me encontré con algunos amigos y hablé con bastantes personas en las dos horas que estuve allí. Sin embargo, fue especialmente gratificante encontrarme con el artista Rhony Alhalel y conversar con él.


El viernes tuve la oportunidad de reivindicarme con mis compañeros de Viceversa Consulting después de mi ausencia en la reunión/juerga de diciembre. Estuvimos en El Directorio. Como le comentaba a María Fe Celi, hasta ese momento solamente había visitado una vez el centro de Lima tan tarde en la noche: en la inauguración del Festival de Cine de Lima que contó con la asistencia de Mario Vargas Llosa (y por ende con un escrutinio casi policial en la entrada a la hora de revisar las invitaciones y consultar los nombres de los invitados en la lista); en esa ocasión pude ir gracias a que mi amigo Joshua Peña me pasara la voz, y de hecho llegamos uno o dos minutos antes que Vargas Llosa pisara con apremio la alfombra roja y cruzara el umbral, entre innumerables destellos de cámaras fotográficas e iluminaciones varias. Ahora, por supuesto, se trataba de una actividad muy diferente y en un contexto mucho más informal. Éramos casi una docena de personas dispuestas a pasarla bien. No me lo esperaba pero me encontré con bastante gente de la Católica ahí, aunque solamente me quedé conversando un buen rato con Andrés Abugattás y su enamorada. Excepto algunos inconvenientes al final de la noche, fue una experiencia bastante novedosa y, sobre todo, divertida.


Finalmente, ayer visité las tres muestras que se exhiben actualmente en el MALI. La sala destinada a la colección de arte contemporáneo reúne trabajos de gran variedad e interés. Son tantos artistas y obras que sería difícil elegir a los mejores o comentar los pormenores de cada una de sus propuestas. En la sala dedicada a Luis Montero y a su majestuosa obra “Los funerales de Atahualpa” me quedé maravillado por el dominio de la técnica y por la gran carga dramática de una obra que no tiene nada que envidiarle a la producción promedio renacentista europea. Verdaderamente imprescindible. Finalmente, fue fascinante observar los textiles precolombinos en la tercera sala; me quedé observando cada detalle de los entramados y la urdimbre hasta que el museo cerró (de hecho ya habían cerrado la puerta y tuvieron que abrirla para que pudiera salir). Además, por esas coincidencias curiosas, terminé encontrándome con Romina Gatti apenas a pocos metros del MALI.


Un poco abrumado después de tanto arte, solamente se me ocurrió dibujar algo pequeño inspirado en los trabajos de Paul Gulacy de principios de los ochenta. Boceto a lápiz más acabado final a tinta.