Curator Tom Hart referred to it as something of a ramshackle version of R. Sikoryak’s Carousel—a New York indie comics institution of sorts. It’s a fairly apt description, but over the past few years, the Hart-curated Easter Sunday Comix Reading at the KGB Bar has lovingly stumbled into become a tradition in its own right, a gathering for the unreligious, the non-Christian, and the otherwise holiday orphaned members of the New York sequential art community.

The Hutch Owen artist has seemingly begun to take a certain amount of pride in the unpredictability of the show’s form, which last November, at the Thanksgiving version of the reading, produced Matthew Thurber’s now-infamous scroll reading of 1-800-Mice, a fantastic, if not especially environmentally-sound take on the show’s traditional slideshow format.

The creative plays on the medium were kept to a relative minimum this year, the one true bit of insanity arriving when Hart opted to step aside from his emceeing duties, handing the job over to one Joe Boginski, a cartoonist and self-styled comedian who deliver is perhaps best described as Neil Hamburger filtered through the Borsch Belt.  The joke about the 69ing vampires was especially inspired. Boginski, like the rest of the cartoonists presenting on Sunday, is a graduate of SVA—well, all save for the final reader, Alabaster Pizzo, who still has another year to go at the midtown Manhattan art school.

The small second floor bar was packed yet again, another not so subtle reminder that the event has, for better and worse, long since outgrown its home in amongst the warm soviet knickknacks. Hopefully next year will see a change of venue—as terrific a bar as the KGB admittedly is, it’s hard to imagine shoving any more comics fans into the space. That said, there is something oddly romantic in the idea of fighting with an indie cartoonist over the last available seat behind the whirring projector.

The event got off to a late start—about 40 minutes or so. Fairly customary, I suppose in these sorts of situations. Leslie Stein was first up, reading from her book, Eye of the Majestic Creature. The 2003 SVA graduate’s soft spoken delivery prompted the shutoff of the bar’s loud, ancient air conditioning—apologies in advance for the sound quality of her video, but rest assured that the thing gets a bit better a ways in. Stein’s piece revolved around earmuffs, the counting of sand grains, and the Skittle-eating adventures of anthropomorphic musical instruments. It was also a happy reminder of the effectiveness of comic pacing when read aloud.

Act-I-Vate artist Ulises Farinas read next, presenting a section from the graphically stunning tale Motro. Farinas’s piece stood out in the group for its seeming relative lack of the intentionally comedic, though in this oral setting, a good deal of humor was clearly drawn from the absurdity of his story’s fantastic realm—and from the fact that the bespectacled Farinas was largely unable to read the tiny text in his own dialogue bubbles.

Dash Shaw, no doubt the best known of the lot began his allotted time by presenting a spread from his new mini Torture Hospital #1. Always happy to deconstruct his own work for an audience, the Bottomless Belly Button author patiently broke down the artistic motives behind the piece, a theme that carried over into is presentation of several pages from his Webcomic—and soon to Pantheon graphic novel—Bodyworld.

It was Pizzo, however, who really put on the evening’s show, complete with a cast of makeshift voice actors (Pizzo primarily relegated herself to the task of foley artist). Together the group read a story from Small Change, a cartoony caper about a talking mouse with bold literary ambitions.

In all, it was yet another successful Easter reading, a chance to escape from the mean, parade-filled streets of Easter Sunday and co-mingle with the New York comics community. Whether or not the next such event will be held in a larger venue has yet to be determined, and while it would be sad to see it moved from the warm and comfortable confines of 4th st.’s KGB Bar, it would be nice to have a place to sit next year.

–Brian Heater

It was standing room only on Sunday night—or kneeling, rather, as audience members contorted bodies around the projector’s beam cutting through the center of the room. The consensus, it seems, amongst nearly everyone packed into KGB Bar on Manhattan’s East 4th st. was that the bi-annual comics event had finally outgrown its old home amongst the strangely homey décor of Soviet-era Russian memorabilia lining the walls.

Over the years the event has become one of the best-loved in the New York indie comics scene, hosted by Tom Hart twice-yearly—on Easter Sunday and the Sunday following Thanksgiving, the latter of which happily boasts the tagline, ‘Come digest that tryptophan with comix!’

Despite said poultry-induced sluggishness, widespread jetlag, the stormy weather, and the innate desire to spend the bulk  of the weekend on the business end of a treadmill, the turnout seems to perpetual increase, year after year, thanks in no small part to the consistently stellar lineup of comics artists reading their work alongside panels projected large on a bedsheet pulled taut along the front wall of the bar.

This year Jonathan Ames and Dean Haspiel shared the headlining spot, the former reading from the duo’s recent Vertigo release, The Alcoholic. Also on board were fellow Act-I-Vater, Fishtown’s Kevin Colden; How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less author, Sarah Glidden; and Matthew Thurber, whose 1-800-Mice #1 debuted on Brooklyn’s Picturebox, last winter.

Colden stared the evening off with the first few pages of his recent IDW release, Fishtown. The book, which follows the based-on-real-events murder of a teenager in the Fishtown district of Philadelphia, highlighted the decided change in tone of this year’s selections, which were a touch more solemn than those of past events. All of the artists present, Colden included, however, made a point to bring a bit of levity to the otherwise serious nature of their works. Colden added sound effects to his piece, highlighting the already absurd nature of reading aloud from a comic book in front of a packed East Village bar.

Thurber was on second, with an innovative presentation that proved the surprise hit of the night. Armed with the one solidly comedic work on display, Thurber concocted a scrolling real of butcher paper to accompany the reading of 1-800-Mice. The artist directed the room’s attention to the rear window of the bar over which he had hung a large roll of paper. Panel by panel he unspooled it as he read from the work, crumpling the finished work in a large pile at the bottom, much to the audible chagrin of those empathetic audience members who could only imagine how much time the artist must have invested in the spool.

After a quick intermission Sarah Glidden read cheerfully from the opening of How to Understand Israel’s first issue. The portion focused on Glidden’s own idealistic optimism on the lead up to her Birthright Israel trip, following her journey to the airport where the narrator and her fellow travelers met with a fair amount of hassle at the hands of the security guards. At an appropriately climatic moment involving a piece of unaccompanied luggage, the slideshow app unexpectedly quit, revealing a large cartoon “Boom!” that Hart had chosen as his computer’s desktop for reasons unbeknownst to the rest of us.

Haspiel opted to stay at the bar as Ames took charge reading selections from The Alcoholic, the thinly-veiled semi-autobiographical book following the adventures of one “Jonathan A.” Having loosened up with the aid of a few vodkas, Ames launched into a few of the more comedic moments from the book, including a chance encounter with Monica Lewinsky, which, the author happily pointed out, was sufficiently meta, having taking place during a reading in the same bar in which we were all sitting.

Even Hart himself admitted begrudgingly that said bar was, perhaps, just not large enough to hold the event, should it continue to grow at the current rate. And while it would be a shame to have to leave the warm literati-friendly watering hole, the increasing popularity of the event is certainly an encouraging sign of things to come.

–Brian Heater