[A version of this review appeared, in German, in the Swiss comics journal STRAPAZIN.]
A handful of cartoonists have had a bigger influence on the medium not as cartoonists, but as publishers or editors. While Denis Kitchen’s own comics work is confident and varied, his greatest impact has been via Kitchen Sink Press, publishing Underground giants like Robert Crumb, Art Spiegelman, Howard Cruse, and S. Clay Wilson, as well as re-introducing masters such as Will Elder, Harvey Kurtzman, and Will Eisner to new audiences. Spiegelman himself offers a fascinating case: we can debate whether he is more important as the creator of the masterpiece Maus, or for his editorial genius in projects such as Weirdo and RAW, which not only brought “new wave” European comics to America, but arguably set the agenda for both the American and the European small press comics movements of the 1990’s. A half-generation after Spiegelman, Lewis Trondheim represents a similar case study for French comics. And Chris Oliveros, best known as the founder of the highbrow Canadian publisher Drawn and Quarterly, launched The Envelope Manufacturer well over a decade ago; I’m still waiting patiently for the third issue.
Without question, the critical cartoonist/editor figure of the current millennium is Sammy Harkham. The anthology Kramers Ergot, which Harkham created in 2000, has run eight issues (the latest came out in 2011) and is one of the high water marks of art comics of the last twenty years. In fact, the massive and lavish seventh issue may be the very definition of “art comic,” not only for its content and production values but because it literally demands to be taken as a piece of art: it’s too large for most bookshelves, and so beautiful you will want to keep it permanently open on your coffee table. (On the rare occasions when I have seen the book for sale at a bookshop, it has always been displayed on a stand.) Since the anthology’s inception, Harkham has been selective and deliberate about the cartoonists he has chosen to feature, ranging from more “fine art” or conceptual cartoonists (Mat Brinkman, Ben Jones, and Jim Drain); to the new generation of serious storytellers (Anders Nilsen, Gabrielle Bell, and Kevin Huizenga); to established masters (Jaime Hernandez, Gary Panter, and Ben Katchor). To some extent Kramers Ergot revived the idea of the serious comics anthology in the 2000s: it’s almost impossible to imagine Mome or Drawn and Quarterly Showcase without Kramers as precedent.
Given his stature and influence as an editor, it can be easy to overlook Harkham’s own work as a cartoonist. Doing so would be a shame, and Everything Together makes it easy to catch up on Harkham’s work over the last ten years. The dozen-and-a-half strips collected in this book give kaleidoscopic insights into Harkham’s own life as well as his interests and preoccupations as artist and reader. Born in Los Angeles, Harkham spent his teenage and early adult years living in Australia. He has been an observant Hasidic Jew. He claims that making comics is a hobby not his real job. He tends to keep out of the industry spotlight (though it’s worth seeking out his handful of superb interviews on-line). And he currently runs a bookshop. Tracking to some extent with Harkham’s own biography, the strips in Everything Together touch on adolescent ennui; various genres of pop culture; life in Australia; creativity and the artistic process; history generally, and the history of Judaism specifically; and the fringes of the comics community itself.
Harkham is a cartoonist’s cartoonist. His drawings appear simple, but there is great virtuosity in his page layout and where and how he chooses to focus the reader’s eye. He conveys meaning as much by what he doesn’t show and tell as by what he does; and while easy to read, his comics demand attention and thought. As a storyteller, Harkham comes across as intelligent and thoughtful, observant of small details, and also quite funny—but his humor is most often laced with fatalism or melancholy. The style of early American strips such as Little Orphan Annie and Wash Tubbs and Captain Easy comes through in his pictures, and he can convey deep emotion with spare, simple drawings: in one strip there’s a great gag about whether or not “dots for eyes” can appropriately convey empathy. As a reader I am mesmerized by his depictions of landscapes and cityscapes, inanimate objects, and domestic interiors; such facets of his work are rewarded in a second reading, because he pulls you through the story so effortlessly on the first reading that you miss many of these details.
Time will tell whether we will someday look back on Harkham as having been more important as an editor/publisher or as a cartoonist. For now, Harkham has expressed his ongoing commitment both to Kramers Ergot (he claims to be well underway with the next issue) and to his own work (while his recent series Crickets went only three issues and is already out of print, he continues to publish stories in a variety of other people’s anthologies). In the meantime, we can enjoy a decade’s worth of his work in Everything Together. It is a fine collection with (like most books from Picturebox) wonderful production values, and I only wish that the book were larger so I could better read the text and enjoy the drawings.