Howard Chaykin talks about comics process and... Watchmen

Page from Watchmen. Art by Dave Gibbons.

Howard Chaykin talks about the importance of artists in the comics creative process. And in Watchmen. 

[...] I recently heard an anecdote about one of my colleagues, a comic book writer, who apparently believes that the artist has absolutely nothing to do with the creative process in comics. If the artist is drawing realistic people in realistic situations, he is simply doing a job of work rather than participating in the creation of the material. I am of the belief that the artist does 50% of the “writing” in comic books. I think the guy is plum crazy. It staggered me in its limited understanding of what comic books are about. 

For example Watchmen is always being referred to as Alan Moore’s Watchmen as if Dave Gibbons had nothing to do with it. But the sensibility of that book would have been an entirely different experience if someone besides Dave had drawn it, and I don’t think that Dave gets near the credit and props he deserves. I think that it is important to acknowledge the fact that comics is a visual narrative medium in which much of the “writing” is provided by the artist who visualizes the material. 

Read the full interview with Chaykin here.

The Picture of Alan Moore

Art by Francesco Mattioli.

Alan Moore: Ritratto di uno Straordinario Gentleman (2003, Black Velvet Editrice), the Italian edition of the Alan Moore: Portrait of an Extraordinary Gentleman book, didn't contain - for production reasons - some contributions included in the original volume. But it also contained a bunch of homage illustrations (printed in b&w) specifically created for the Ritratto.
This is the case of the gorgeous piece shown above, drawn by FRANCESCO MATTIOLI, presented here (for the first time) in colours with the author's permission.

The illustration also pays an overt homage to Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray with a touch of Lovecraftian horror.

Francesco Mattioli was born in Bologna, in 1973. As a child, he always loved drawing, his favourite subjects were bugs, starships and maps. At 18 year old, he attended the school of comics "La Nuova Eloisa" in Bologna, and soon after he began his career as an illustrator of educational videogames, comic books, children books and boardgames. He worked for Salani, Mondadori, Giunti, Nord-Sud, San Paolo and many other publishers. 
At the moment his favourite subjects are bugs, starships and maps.
[bibliographic info from F.lli Mattioli's site]

AM Portrait: Pat Mills' homage

Art by David Lloyd. From V for Vendetta.

From the sold-out Alan Moore: Portrait of an Extraordinary Gentleman book (2003, Abiogenesis Press, page 79), in the following you can read the piece written by the great Pat Mills to celebrate Mr. Moore's 50th birthday.
Posted on this blog with the author's permission. Many thanks to Mr. Mills for that.

Poisoned chalice
© Pat Mills

I recall with immense admiration a scene in Alan's V for Vendetta where the Archbishop of Canterbury, or similar prelate, having committed some loathsome and perverted crime, is fed a poisonous host  by V. This  act of unholy communion  was superbly choreographed  by Alan's script  and beautifully and darkly illustrated by David Lloyd. The exact details of the scene are vague now;  yet  the emotions it provoked are still powerful in my mind, so I hope  my recollection  is correct.  Of all Alan's writings this scene  always comes back to me again and again.

Firstly, because - whilst  I have a high regard for all his work - this is the one scene I truly  envy  and wish I'd written. I can recall thinking  when I first read it,  many years ago, "Damn! Why didn't I think of that?"

Secondly, because - especially in this day and age - it is usually practitioners of   my own ex-religion  of Catholicism that are rightly subjected to critical scrutiny by writers of fiction and non fiction. So it is was original and different of Alan to focus on the English  High Anglican tradition that is far  more skilful than Catholicism  at hiding its dark side.

Having researched High Anglicanism myself for some time, I've become aware of just how curious  it really is; and how truly sinister and offensive its dark side can be. Therefore I've always wanted to ask Alan his inspiration for this scene.

Because I know that any scene worth writing and reading  must come from the heart and resonate with truth. Otherwise it's just the usual comic book crap which Alan's work  never is. Whatever  his inspiration on this occasion, I was delighted to revel in this very special scene where such an unpleasant authority figure as the Archbishop is subjected to such appropriate and legitimately cruel   punishment. In fact, I think V let him off lightly. I'd personally like him to have suffered a little longer.

It's surely a mark of a writer's talent if he can trigger this kind of powerful emotional response in the  reader. And even now, recalling that scene this evening, co-incidentally in the week of Guy Fawkes, the role model for V, I still find myself  praying to my own Gods that there are poison hosts  waiting  for  everyone of the perverts in the Anglican and Catholic religions.

I suppose I should now conclude with something humorous or flip, but I'm afraid - for me - that would be inappropriate. Because there was never anything humorous or flip  about V. It resonated with an important and serious truth; and there is nothing humorous about the real life evil it  highlighted in the guise of fiction.

One day I hope to write a similar scene where  an avenger pays one of these so-called "Men of God" a visit. Probably with a hammer, nails and two crossed beams of wood.
Thank you for your inspiration, Alan.

Pat Mills, November 2002

Art by David Lloyd. From V for Vendetta.

Pat Mills is a one of the most well-recognizable and acclaimed British creators in the comics field. As writer and editor he played a fundamental role in revitalizing the British comics in the 1970s and has remained a leading figure ever since. He is best known for creating 2000 AD and playing a major part in the development of Judge Dredd. He is also the creator of Marshal Law, together with artist Kevin O'Neill.

20th Anniversary Watchmen tribute: Hollis Mason

Art by Chris Weston

Above, a stunning homage to Watchmen featuring Hollis Mason drawn by the amazing CHRIS WESTON, included in the gallery section of "Watchmen 20 anni dopo", an Italian tribute book published in 2006 by Lavieri with all net profits donated to AIMA, the Italian Alzheimer organization. It was basically a collection of 12 brand new essays by well known comics experts analyzing Moore & Gibbons masterpiece.

Weston also wrote a piece to accompany the illustration. You can read it in the following.

Many thanks to Mr. Weston for his permission to present the material on this blog.

For more info about Chris Weston, visit his blog.

"Possibly the greatest perk of becoming a professional comic-strip illustrator is the opportunity to hang out with your own artistic heroes; sometimes, the very creators whose work entertained and inspired you throughout your own childhood. I’ve been lucky enough to make acquaintances with Dave Gibbons, an artist whose work I have admired since I first saw it published in the ‘Hotspur’ comic in the early seventies. I can honestly say he’s one of the friendliest, most amusing and fair people I’ve ever encountered. If there were an award for the comic industry’s greatest “diamond geezer”, he’d win it, hands down, every year without fail.

But, however easy his company is, and despite the laughably generous way he treats me as a fellow professional, there’s always a moment mid-conversation, when I suddenly think, “Oh my god. I’m chatting with DAVE ‘WATCHMEN’ GIBBONS!”. Because, although he was already one of my favourite artists, (thanks to his work on ‘Rogue Trooper’, and ‘Doctor Who’), it was definitely that classic, ground-breaking, twelve part mini-series that has elevated him to the comic world’s equivalent of a “Made Man”.

I’m not going to go into a long and redundant treatise about why ‘WATCHMEN’ is one of the greatest comic-strip stories ever… for starters, that would take up more pages than the actual graphic novel did. But what I would like to point out is just how brilliant Dave Gibbons’ art is on the book; something that doesn’t get mentioned enough in articles I read about the book. His artwork is deceptively simple, dramatic and coherent. His greatest achievement on the book?
Making this complex and convoluted tale of intrigue, with its fractured time structure and large cast of characters easy to follow.
Not many other artists could have maintained that consistency of quality storytelling for all twelve chapters. But being consistent doesn’t mean there aren’t any astonishing artistic flourishes to be found. There are… many. In fact, panel four on page sixteen of issue eight is worth the hefty price of the Absolute ‘WATCHMEN’ edition alone: a dynamic shot of Nite Owl running through the shattered prison windows… possibly the greatest single image of a ‘super-hero’ ever drawn.

It’s no wonder I still occasionally come over all star-struck when I’m in his company. I’ve admitted this to Dave, and he replied, “Jeez, Chris… I’m just a bloke…!”. You are a ‘bloke’, Dave; and a bloody good one, too. 

But how many ‘blokes’ have drawn ‘WATCHMEN’…?!"

Chris Weston, 2006

a message to the readers

Alan Moore by Peace

From an interview of Alan Moore by Kurt Amacker, published by Seraphemera Books.

Alan Moore: [...] As for the readers, I have to say that if you are a reader that just wanted your favorite characters on tap forever, and never cared about the creators, then actually you're probably not the kind of reader that I was looking for.  I have a huge respect for my audience.  On the occasions when I meet them, they seem, I like to think, to be intelligent and scrupulous people.  If people do want to go out and buy these Watchmen prequels, they would be doing me an enormous favor if they would just stop buying my other books.  When I think of my audience, I like to have good thoughts and think about how lucky I am to have one that is as intelligent as mine and as moral as mine.

AM Portrait: Michael T. Gilbert's homage

Art by Micheal T. Gilbert. Opening page from The Riddle of the Recalcitrant Refuse, the Mr. Monster's story written by Alan Moore.

From the sold-out Alan Moore: Portrait of an Extraordinary Gentleman book (2003, Abiogenesis Press, page 23), in the following you can read the piece written by the great Michael T. Gilbert to celebrate Mr. Moore's 50th birthday. It is titled Mea Culpa, Alan Moore!
Posted on this blog with the kind permission of the author. 1 billion thanks to Mr. Gilbert! 

Mea Culpa, Alan Moore!
© Michael T. Gilbert

I did a bad, bad thing. Sorry, Alan, old bean, old chap, old sock.
Sorry world.

It all started in 1985, when I first "met" Alan Moore. Actually it didn't start there really, but I thought it might be a clever way to flashback into some amusing Alan Moore anecdotes for Alan's 50th birthday. Turns out it's not all that clever, but "Oh well, Pip! Pip!" and all that rot. I'm sure you'll forgive me, gentle reader.
Anyway, back in '85 I was churning out Mr. Monster pages in my Berkeley, Cal. studio when my soon-to-be wife Janet rushed in. "Michael! Michael! Alan Moore's on the phone!" Did I mention she was quite excited?
I was pretty excited myself.

A few weeks earlier, I'd sent DC a postcard gushing over their newly revived Swamp Thing series, and Alan's startlingly original take on the character. Which is not to sneeze at the contributions of artists Steve Bissette and John Totleben. Together the three made the series one of my all-time favourites. But this is an Alan Moore tribute, so…
DC passed on my post to Alan and he gave me a ring from Jolly Olde England, (no small deal in the Gilbert household, I assure you!) I was tickled when Alan told me how much he'd loved The Wraith, a funny-animal Spirit knock-off I did back in the mid-70s. For my money, any British bloke who'd even heard of The Wraith was a friend for life! But I'd been impressed with Alan even before his DC stint, with his Marvelman's scripts for Warrior magazine. And I wasn't alone.
For better or worse, Alan was quickly becoming a comic book superstar, though you wouldn't know it to talk to him. On the phone he came off like a regular chap, as indeed he is. Although a highly irregular regular chap, if you know what I mean. Long-story-short, we had great fun chatting about old comics and the like, and I suggested that we collaborate on a Mr. Monster story together.

For those unfamiliar with the character, Mr. Monster's the world greatest monster-fighter. I'd started the character in 1984 as a tongue-in-cheek tribute to the pulp heroes of the 30s and 40s. A year later, he got his own series. Bill Loebs and Dave Stevens had already helped me draw Mr. Monster, but I was curious to see what a different writer might do. Needless to say, I was thrilled when Alan offered to write a 10 or 12-page story for our 3rd issue.

Months later I received one of Alan's "everything-and-the-kitchen-sink" scripts. Mouth agape, I chugged through his 32 single spaced typewritten pages. For a 16 page story no less! I believe he apologized for making the story a bit longer than he'd intended. Yeah –– like I was really crying!
As I recall, Alan's script began with descriptions of him waking up, tossing the cat aside and putting a page in the typewriter. Real letter-to-a-pal, stream-of-consciousness stuff that was quite entertaining. Alan's story was even more so.

Describe a panel? Forget it! Kid stuff. Alan seduced his collaborators with his vivid word-pictures. Everything the artist needed to know was described, then he'd toss in a few more subtle background details for good measure. These details weren't necessarily art descriptions, but mind-paintings designed to inspire the artists. Whatever it was, it worked. Alan's Kurtzman-esque tale about the environmentalist garbage-monster, Sadie Mutz, was a joy to draw. Which makes me feel even worse about the bad, bad thing I did.

Ah, but we'll get to that…

In the 80s, Alan continued to surpass himself. His brilliant Watchmen series (drawn by artist Dave Gibbons) kept me on the edge of my seat, issue-by-issue. Swamp Thing? That comic just got better and better. Then he wrote a number of one-shot stories for DC, including a classic two-part Superman story that was both touching and inspirational.
In short order, Alan began scooping up Eisner, Kurtzman and Kirby Awards the way ordinary mortals scoop up cheese puffs.

Meanwhile, Alan and I worked out a deal with DC and Eclipse to produce a Mr. Monster/Swamp Thing crossover. This was possibly the first such agreement between a mainstream publisher and one of the small independents. Unfortunately, just as we finished plotting the story (a romp through the horror worlds of various old comic book companies), DC and Alan suffered a rancorous divorce and the project was scrapped.
He vowed never to work for them again, and DC lost one of their most fertile creators.

Luckily, Alan had plenty of other projects to keep him busy. There was Miracleman (formerly Marvelman) for Eclipse, Lost Girls and From Hell for Taboo and Tundra's ill-fated Big Numbers series. Ah yes, Tundra…
I like to think it was Tundra's fault. Yes, indeed. If not for them, I would never have been in England at all. And the bad, bad thing never would have happened. No indeed. So it's their fault, see?

Tundra. In the early 90s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles-magnate Kevin Eastman built his very own comic company. Foolish boy! He brought Alan and Steve Bissette on board –– and Steve smuggled me and Mr. Monster aboard the S. S. Tundra. It was fun while it lasted.
In the year or two I was there, I produced three different Mr. Monster titles, and two book collections. Alan wrote a story for my Mr. Monster spin-off, Kelly, starring MM's sexy gal Friday. Two of his cartoonist pals drew his tale, and I suspect that's why he squeezed it into his schedule.
And say! How could I forget to mention the gory, exquisitely-detailed Mr. Monster pin-up Alan drew for the MM book collection? Yes, he also dabbles in art. Talented boy, that Alan!

Tundra was a good deal all around. We got to create some great comics, and Kevin was able to rid himself of great gobs of excess cash that were cluttering the offices. He got rid of at least a couple of carts of cash when he flew half the Tundra crew to England for UKCAC91. That's the 1991 United Kingdom Comic Art Convention, for those who haven't had the pleasure. I was one of about a dozen cartoonists and god-know-how-many staffers who did, courtesy of the ever-flowing "turtle-money."
Plane tickets, room and board were all on Tundra's tab. Yes indeed, that was but one of many brilliant financial decisions that quickly sank the company.

But I gotta tell you, that was one terrific convention –– maybe my best ever! First class all the way, lads. I got to meet Simon Bisley, Neal Gaiman, Garry Leach and other equally impressive British cartoon luminaries.
Garry illustrated Alan's early Marvelman stories, and later co-edited A-1 magazine with fellow limey Dave Elliott. After the con, Garry gave me a personal tour of London's best comic shops. Or is that "shoppes?" Probably the latter, as some were situated in 400 year-old buildings! Nothing like that in the states, mate!
I still have some of the cheap black-and-white British reprints Garry turned me on to, featuring American comics from the 40s to the 60s. These often had stories from different, long-defunct companies in a single book. Wow!

Oh, yeah–– I also visited Westminster Abbey and similar tourist must-sees. But you don't want to hear about that, now do you? This trip was my first overseas and remains a very, very fond memory.

Unfortunately, the universe has a way of balancing the good with the bad. Hence the bad, bad thing I did to Alan.
Which I will now tell you about.

It began right after the UK convention. I'd hoped to see Alan there, but he was a no-show at the show. I was told he'd recently sworn off cons after experiencing some good-natured stalking by adoring fans. They just loved the guy too much.
We should all have those problems.

We were phone pals, but I'd only met Alan in the flesh once, briefly, at the '86 San Diego Comicon. I say briefly because Alan was running from a crowd of bloodthirsty adoring fans (see above!). As I recall, they were brandishing Alan Moore effigies encased in Mylars® inscribed with the Moore family crest. I also seem to recall flaming torches being brandished, but I won't swear to it. Quite a scene, man!
But that was years earlier. Now that I was in Alan's backyard, I wanted to pay him a slightly longer visit. Little did I know...

I gave him a call after the con and, good-natured bloke that he is, Alan invited me to stay overnight. Good thing too, as the train ride from London seemed to go on for hours! Who knew England was that big? Hell, who knew Europe was that big?
The train eventually stopped at Northampton, a small working-class town in the middle of nowhere. By then I was feeling a bit under the weather. Runny nose, sneezing, that sort of thing. Lack of sleep and germ-infested airplane air was catching up with me. With the convention over, I was happy to start my real vacation. And what better way to begin than a visit with Alan Moore?

As much as I was looking forward to getting together, I was still a bit apprehensive. By 1991, Alan was already quite the media darling and I wasn't quite sure what to expect.
First there were all his awards. He'd won with such crushing regularity that the Eisner and Kurtzman committee guys began buying his trophy-labels in bulk, just to save printing costs. Ambitious graphic novels like From Hell, Lost Girls, and Big Numbers oozed like golden honey from his magic fingers.
In his spare time Alan was busy writing novels, screenplays and God-knows-what-else. Then of course there were dark rumours about his arcane experiments with forbidden drugs, strange sex –– and the occult. Brrrr!
Frankly it was all a bit intimidating.

Luckily, my pal Steve Bissette was also staying the night, so I wasn't all that worried. Steve may even have been on the train with me, but it's hard to remember 12 years later. Regardless, I was glad he was joining us. When I arrived at the station, Alan was waiting.
Alan Moore stood roughly eight feet tall. His flowing black beard and intense eyes could have given Rasputin a run for his money. On that forlorn train station in the middle of nowhere, one thought kept running through my disease-ridden head again and again.

"Jeeze, Alan –– shave!!"
Ha. Only kidding, Alan. Kid-ding!

After we arrived at Alan's flat he gave us the grand tour. What a mess! And I mean that in a good way, of course. Glorious chaos is what it was. Alan's studio floor was heaped six feet deep with comics and graphic novels. It's a wonder he could find anything amongst the rubble, but somehow he did. (Did I mention that Alan's also an ace detective?)
I made a mental note to dump my entire comic collection on my floor when I got home. Anything to improve my writing, I say! Later, Alan brewed us a spot of tea and the three of us chatted.
That afternoon I met Alan's charming young daughters. He'd been recently divorced, and the girls were visiting daddy. Later we took a short ride to see Alan's gal-pal, Melinda Gebbie. The two were working on their Lost Girls series, and Melinda's pages were quite striking.

Oddly enough, I'd met Melinda years earlier. In the 70s, we were both members of the "Ground-Under Cartoonists" –– a loosely-knit group of San Francisco-based cartoonists. A dozen of us met every couple of weeks or so, and our ever-changing membership included Roger May, Larry Rippee and Trina Robbins. With one or two exceptions, we were all third-stringers in the underground comix pantheon, but we had fun griping, shooting the bull and drawing.

Melinda probably doesn't remember, but she and I even went on a date once. Back in '76 we grabbed a bite to eat and visited San Francisco's legendary City Lights bookstore, home of the original "beat" poets. I hadn't seen or heard from her for in at least a decade. Now she was in England, dating Alan. Weird!
If I'd imagined I was going to have tons of private time with Alan, reality soon set me straight. He was a comic book super-star, and the phone was constantly ringing. Shortly after I arrived, a couple of German TV guys showed up to interview Alan. Me, Steve, Melinda and Alan arranged to have lunch with them at some nearby Indian restaurant. We walked there in the hot, muggy air.

It seemed about a 100 miles away, but that may have just been the cold-bugs messing with my mind. I tried to pick up some cold pills along the way, but the stores were closed. Many U.S. drugstores are open 24/7, so it's easy to get spoiled. Not here!
The small restaurant had no air conditioning, which seems to be the norm in England. But the food was tasty, and if memory serves, the TV guys even picked up the tab. Cool.
Through it all, Alan in the centre of this storm, answering questions, making witty observations, cooking for the entire restaurant (did I mention Alan's a master chef?). It was exhausting just to watch. Perhaps this level of activity wasn't the norm, but I suspect otherwise.

Back home later that night, Alan passed around a fragrant, oddly overstuffed hand-rolled cigarette. Later, he played a tape featuring a song he and his mates had cut. Say, did I mention that Alan plays music too? Heck, he probably builds rockets in his spare time!
Anyway, we all had a fine time talking until bedtime. The sun wasn't quite up yet, as I recall. I bunked with Steve Bissette, and gabbed some more. They call it "sleep-talking" in England. Or so I'm told.
The next day, my cold was worse than ever. I was sneezing up a storm, and blowing through handkerchiefs at an alarming rate. Finally, Alan took pity on me. The stores were open now, so we stopped at a nearby "chemist." We call 'em drugstores in my part of the world, but I prefer the English version. There's something much more arcane and spooky about getting cold tablets at a "chemist."
I popped a couple of tablets and my sneezing stopped. Even my running nose finally took a rest. Thank you, Mr. Chemist!

From there I headed back to London –– and then back to the states with enough England stories to bore my friends for months! And now, lest I bore you too, gentle reader, I'll bid you adieu.
Hope you enjoyed my little Alan Moore story and…
Eh? What's that, gentle reader? You say I forgot something?

Oh. That's right. I promised to discuss the bad, bad thing I did to Alan, didn't I? OK. Fair enough. Here goes…
Remember that cold? Well, Alan caught it. Must've been in bed for two whole days. During that dark, dark time he didn't finish three screenplays he'd been working on. Gone forever.
A 1700-page sequel to Dante's Divine Comedy (in the original old Italian!), five life-changing graphic novels, and three breakthrough comic book series were never completed. All lost.
He didn't compose his brilliant Grunge Band Harmonica Concerto in D Minor. Or the Shakespearean sonnet, two Madrigals, and 243 perfectly-pitched haikus. Nor did he paint that Botticelli homage.
World hunger persists because Alan, practically at death's door due to my cold bug, was too weak to recite the mystic spell he'd written to cure that particular problem.
And all because I sneezed.

Sorry Alan, old bean, old chap, old sock.
I should've visited Maggie Thatcher!

The End

Michael Terry Gilbert has worked for both mainstream and underground comic book companies. He is best known as the creator of Mr. Monster, which has been published by several comics publishers (Pacific, Eclipse, Dark Horse) since 1984.
He has been a scriptwriter for Disney comics since 1990 and has written or drawn stories for characters such as Superman, Batman, Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse.

Neonomicon wins the Bram Stoker Award 2012

Mister Moore by Richard Pace

On March 31st, the Horror Writers Association held its 25th annual Bram Stoker Awards, recognizing superior achievements in horror writing.  The 2011 awards consideration marked the first-ever inclusion of the category “Superior Achievement in a Graphic Novel” and Alan Moore was recipient of the award for his Neonomicon (Avatar Press). 

Alan Moore didn't attend the ceremony but his amusing acceptance was read by award presenters Scott Edelman and Rocky Wood:

"If I may, I’d like to strike a sour note from the onset with regard to my unfathomable and near pathological aversion to awards. I’ve witnessed far too many good and valuable creators make awards a measure, either of themselves or of their craft, and suffer subsequent inertia or derangement. If they fail to win one they become unbearable in their own eyes and if they win one they become unbearable to everybody else. Aged just eleven I was made Head Prefect at the primary school that I attended in Spring Lane, thus ruinously altering my personality. Berserk with power I became tyrannical and autocratic in my duties as milk-monitor, and personally believe that I was a short step away from unexplained mass graves on the school playing field and a tight-lipped appearance in a glass box at some paediatric version of the Haag.

Perhaps as a result of this, in later life I find I have a tendency to shun awards and, while appreciating the good will they represent, to get them out of my immediate environment as quickly as is possible. I’m currently residing in a sterilised and strictly accolade-free zone, with one unique exception. This, it hardly need be said, is the Bram Stoker that I had the honour of receiving in 2000 for League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

One might ask why this is the sole survivor of a cull that saw its fellow statuettes, certificates and once, I promise, a container of Bart Simpson bubble-bath which had a sticker with ‘Lifetime Achievement Award’ printed on it covering the barcode; that saw all of these consigned to history. Firstly, and least importantly, I’d have to say that the award is in itself a piece of art, a beautiful creation that I never tire of looking at and handling. Secondly, and crucially, there is the provenance of the award to be considered. The Bram Stoker is, to me, a priceless token of appreciation from a group of people for whom I have limitless respect and admiration, these being my fellow workers at this darkest of all coalfaces. The landscape of imagination, and especially it’s less hospitable far boundary, is perhaps the most important human territory of all, and so to feel acknowledged by a lineage of fine writers which extends from the Great Old Ones of the past to the still unrevealed giants yet to come means more to me than I can readily express.

As is often the case when one’s work crosses personal boundaries, I spent a long time in fretful deliberation over Neonomicon and six months after finishing the work was still uncertain as to whether it was good or even publishable. These doubts dwindled at first glimpse of Jacen Burrows’ wonderfully controlled delineations, both unflinching and meticulous, and have vanished entirely on receipt of this remarkable award. To all of you, thank you so much for this. You’ve made an unkempt and increasingly bewildered old man very happy."

The video of the Award ceremony can be seen here (the graphic novel portion can be found between 1:10:00 and 1:17:20).

a Moore biography in 2013!

Parkin's bookshelves. A lot of Moore in there!

In November 2013, Aurum Press will publish a Moore biography by Lance Parkin. Obviously, I am sure it will be a must-have for any genuine Alan Moore's fan.

Parkin is the author of The Pocket Essential Alan Moore, published in 2001 and reprinted in 2009.

[...] This is a book that I hope will appeal to a wide range of people. I think Alan Moore is one of the most interesting and important living British writers. He’s highly visible, too. Just in the last couple of months, we’ve seen the influence he’s been: Anonymous and Occupy make use of the V mask, and there was a huge amount of discussion of the Watchmen prequels. He’s shown up on the Channel Four News, he delivered a marvelous Thought for the Day on Radio 4.

So, yes, I hope my book will be of use to people who are not avid comics fans who are curious about him. But I also hope that even the most knowledgeable comics fan will read it and go ‘well, I never knew that’. I’m unearthing all sorts of things and finding all sorts of connections that I didn’t know about.

Alan Moore is often seen as a wild and eccentric figure, and clearly that’s part of the mix … but, at the same time, it’s often struck me that a lot of what interests and drives him seems remarkably consistent and level-headed. [...] There are contradictions and complexities about, say, an individualistic artistic talent working for a multimedia conglomerate. There are interesting things to say about the nature of ‘originality’ in art generally, and in an often derivative genre like superhero comics more specifically. Above all else, Moore often writes big, complex books about big, complex things. I think there are many big, meaty things to talk about, and my hope is that I’ll be writing a big, meaty book that tackles them.

You can read the complete article at Parkin's site. Just click on the link.

AM Portrait: The League of Extraordinary Characters

Art by Matt Kindt

From the Alan Moore: Portrait of an Extraordinary Gentleman book (2003, Abiogenesis Press), a funny 2page strip - titled The Animated Adventure of The League of Extraordinary Characters of Alan Moore - featuring a lot of Moore's characters written and drawn by the great MATT KINDT. It was originally printed at page 294 and 295 of the original volume. Posted on this blog with the kind permission of the author. Thanks Matt!

Art by Matt Kindt

Matt Kindt is the Harvey Award winning writer and artist of the comics and graphic novels MIND MGMT, Frankenstein: Agent of S.H.A.D.E., Revolver, 3 Story, Super Spy, 2 Sisters, and Pistolwhip. He has been nominated for 4 Eisner and 3 Harvey Awards (and won once). His work has been published in French, Spanish, Italian, and German.

AM Portrait: Lost Girls

Art by Andrea Accardi

From Alan Moore: Portrait of an Extraordinary Gentleman tribute book (2003, Abiogenesis Press), a beautiful portrait of Lost Girls by ANDREA ACCARDI paying homage to Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie's pornographic masterpiece. It was originally printed at page 277 of the sold-out volume.

Andrea Accardi is an Italian comics artist, especially known for his collaboration with writer Massimiliano De Giovanni on the grahic novels Barcode (2006), Matteo e Enrico (2007) and Il Viaggio di Akai (2010) published in Italy by Kappa Edizioni.
He also drew some issues of the popular John Doe series and the graphic novel Hit Moll written by Luca Enoch (2011, BD Edizioni).

Alan Moore and the giant hypermoment of space-time

Alan Moore by Gilbert Hernandez (from Comics Interview N. 65)

Excerpt from the New Stateman interview conducted by Helen Lewis Hasteley.
Read the complete interview here.


And you talk about "disproving the existence of death".

I thought that seemed a substantial project for my declining years. There's a lot of other stuff in the book but one of the central theses is based upon my ruminations about mortality and time.

It seemed to me that if I understood people like Stephen Hawking correctly, this meant that we are living in a universe that has at least four dimensions. I was talking to a string theorist and he reckons possibly 11.

Funnily enough, I interviewed Brian Greene recently. He says they're all curled up like a pile on a carpet.

Little crumpled-up dimensions that are hidden inside the ones that we're familiar with. I think there must be at least four and if that is correct, the fourth dimension is not some mystical plane. It is a dimension, just like the other three. It is a physical material dimension.

When Einstein talks about space-time having a curvature, then since space-time includes the three dimensions that we're familiar with, that kind of implies that it must be curved through the fourth one, so that suggests that the fourth dimension as I understand it is not time. But it is our perception [of] the passage of time -- the universe is a four-dimensional solid in which nothing is moving and nothing is changing.

The only thing that is moving through that solid along the time axis is our consciousness. The past is still there, the future has always been here and, in this gigantic solid, every moment that has ever existed or will ever exist is all existing conterminously at the same moment.

In this giant hypermoment of space-time -- and that includes all of the instants that make up our individual lives -- it seems to me that nobody is going anywhere. Think about a standard journey through the third dimension: you're in a car driving down a street, say. Now those houses behind you are vanishing; you can't see them anymore. But you don't doubt that if you could reverse the car, those houses would still be there.

The thing is, our consciousness is only moving one way through time. We can't back up. But I believe that what physics tells us is that those moments are still there and I believe that when we get to the end of our lives, the 70 or 80 years of our life is just physical dimension . . . It is how "long" we are in time and when our consciousness gets to the end of our life, there's nowhere for it to go other than back to the beginning.

That we have our lives over and over and over again an infinite number of times and, each time, we are having exactly the same thoughts, saying exactly the same things, doing exactly the same things as we were doing and saying the first time. If it's even meaningful to talk of a first time.

I thought I'd thought of this idea myself because I was a genius . . . It turns out that the Pythagoreans had some sort of version of a great recurrence. They were basing it upon the idea that when this universe ends, because time is infinite, then there are bound to be other universes and, since those universes are finite, there will eventually be another universe exactly like this one, which I don't really think holds up scientifically.

Whereas this idea of the dimensionality of our existence, it does hold up. I can't see a way around it that doesn't involve completely contradicting one of the main conceptual lynchpins of modern physics and, halfway through Jerusalem, I came across this beautiful quote from Albert Einstein that completely summed up everything that I was trying to say but very eloquently and at a lot shorter length than three quarters of a million words.

He was apparently consoling the widow of a fellow physicist -- this was only a couple of months before Einstein's own death -- and he said: "To a physicist such as myself, death isn't really a big thing," and I'm paraphrasing now. He said: "Death isn't really a big thing because I understand the persistent illusion of transience."

I thought that the "persistent illusion of transience", that says it all. The persistent illusion that things are going away. People, times, places, I don't believe they are [going away]. I think that in a certain sense, every moment is eternal. I'm not trying to make a religion out of this and you'll notice that this doesn't require a God.

So it's not really an afterlife; it's just your life. It's a nice, secular idea of continuity that I think is scientifically credible. And whether it's true or not, that wouldn't be a bad way to live.

I have to say that the idea I'm quite taken with is the infinite multiverse, where everything happens somewhere. Every action you make.

I find that a horrible idea, because doesn't that kind of [imply that], everything that you do, there's another you that's done it better.

Yeah, but there's another me that's done it worse.

That's true, so at the end of the day, it sort of reletavises all morality or action out of existence..

I remember reading a story by Larry Niven, who's an author that I don't really like, but he's talking about a private eye who's investigating a wave of suicides and he eventually connects all this up to an announcement in the press that parallel worlds are definitely real, that there is an infinite array of parallel worlds in which an infinite number of versions of you exist. And he's sort of thinking about that and thinking maybe that's what's caused the suicides.

[There is] a kind of existential despair at the thought that however well you do, there's a million other yous that are suffering in horrifying circumstances and a billion other yous who did much better. He's thinking about this and he takes out his gun from the desk and he puts it against his temple and he holds it there for a second, and then he thinks: no, no, nobody kills themselves for an obscure philosophical point.

And he puts the gun away in the drawer again. And he pulls the trigger but the gun doesn't fire. And he pulls the trigger but the bullet shoots up and ricochets against the ceiling. And he pulls the trigger and blows the top of his head off. And there's just this array of different outcomes at the end of the story, all of which are happening in one parallel world or another.

A lot of people have found the idea of living your life over and over again absolutely terrifying; there's some people that find it very comforting. There are others that are appalled by it.

I don't mind it as long as you don't know.

This is the beauty of it. Another aspect of this belief is that there is no free will. Which is something that I've noticed cropping up a lot in the New Scientist recently. The idea that we live in a deterministic universe.

I've got a scene in my book where one of these symbolic, pool-playing, working-class, angel-type figures is talking to one of the more human figures and the human is asking the -- we can't call them "angels", they're not like angels on Christmas cards, they're a bit more substantial -- but a human is talking to one of these celestial builders and says: "Look, did we ever, any of us, really have free will?" And the angel shakes his head and says: "No . . . Did you miss it?" Then they both laugh.

As far as I can see, it's not important that we have free will, just as long as we have the illusion of free will to stop us going mad. We do have the illusion of free will. It feels like we are having each moment for the first time, that we could've done anything, that we could've said anything, but that isn't the way that science seems to be heading.

My favourite scientist, largely based on the fact that he's got an incredibly cool name, is a guy called Gerard 't Hooft. He's working upon a theory that he says we cannot test yet because we do not have tunnelling microscopes to test it, but what he proposes is that there is a layer more fundamental than the quantum layer, that all of the features of the quantum uncertainty that are so strange and peculiar are all resolved as if they'd never been there, which would completely match up the classical model [of physics] and the quantum model. The only problem with this is that if there is no quantum uncertainty then there is no free will.

So, there seem to be a few vectors that are heading that way and they've been debating [over whether] if we found out that there was no free will, wouldn't that mean that we'd all just go on a rampage? The simple fact is, most people would be predetermined not to believe [that].