Pandora’s Box
By Ken Wong

It’s hard to compete with the infinite canvas, and while few artists achieve anywhere near Webcomics’ potential as laid out by Scott McCloud in Reinventing Comics, such abstract concepts make the world of print seem downright quaint. Pandora’s Box, a two-page mini-comic (front and back of a single sheet) was born out of a defense of the medium—a conversation that left former MoCCA president Ken Wong to ponder what manner of benefits a physical comic holds over its digital counterpart.

The answer, of course, is space, a concept that can be mimicked—but not duplicated—on a two-dimensional computer screen. Print comics can ultimately manifest itself into a three-dimensional object. More often that not, that object is book, a form which, in the right hands—say a Seth, Chris Ware, or Art Spiegelman—can become a work of art in and of itself.  In the hands of Wong, however, the comic itself has become the object, with the help of some simple origami.

True to its name, Pandora’s Box took the shape of a cube. Each exterior edge is devoted to a panel, which together setup the famous Greek myth, beginning on the top of the cube and ending on the bottom with Pandora herself moments away from sealing the fate of mankind—a less than subtle prompt for the reader to open up the box in their hands.

Panels inside the box continue the story, opting more for a more academic deconstruction of the myth, rather the more straight-forward panel-by-panel story-telling found on the box’s exterior. It’s a narrative breakdown of sorts, but in the case of Pandora’s Box, storytelling secondary at best to the comic’s focus on the physical form.

Wong has discovered something a fascinating little avenue in the way of the origami comic, a fun and potentially fascinating reprieve for the world of print cartooning—one that he will no doubt see fit to explore in subsequent minis, which will hopefully place equal focus on the content and the delivery method.

–Brian Heater

[Above, Hi-Way Wonders. Below, Dispatch delights.]

• MoCCA is exhibiting Kim Deitch: A Retrospective starting Sept 9th. The opening reception’s happening onSeptember 12th. Visit the website for more information and reception time.
• Starting Sept 2nd, Roger Langridge’s Mughwhump the Great joins Act-I-Vate  with new episodes premiering weekly. Says Langridge, “music-hall ventriloquist Mughwhump the Great, with his foul-mouthed dummy Billy Woodentop, attempt to find the good life on cheap wages and cheaper gin! (Warning: this comic may contain Peruvian Brick Dancers.)”
• Fox Atomic Comics releases the second volume of The Nightmare Factory on Sept 2nd. This second volume revisits the critically acclaimed stories of Thomas Ligotti’s world by artists and writers like Joe Harris, Stuart Moore, Nick Stakal, Toby Cypress, Vasilis Lolos, and Bill Sienkiewicz.
• A new book by the University Press of Mississippi, Harvey Pekar: Conversations, edited by Michael G. Rhode is now available to order from the University’s site.  The book offers nearly 25 years of interviews, from fanzines, public radio broadcasts, and The Washington Post [Don't forget The Daily Cross Hatch!-ed.]. The book touches on everything from his biographical life, to his David Letterman show appearances in the 1980s, and the success of the film adaptation of American Splendor.

–Jason Owen

Based out of the alternative publishing capital of Portland, Oregon, Sparkplug Books is regularly issuing some of the most exciting work being released in comics today. When he first launched the company, cartoonist Dylan Williams was seeking to expose unsigned talent, while keeping check to make sure that the publishing house largely adhered to his DIY roots.

To true to its mission statement, Sparkplug has occupied a happy medium between the world of self-published, photocopied zines and the kingpin indie publishers like Fantagraphics and Drawn & Quarterly.

In this final part of our interview with Williams we discuss the importance of being Portland, artist loyalty, and why the hell an indie comics publisher would be caught dead in the hall of the San Diego Comic Con.

[Part One] [Part Two]

How important is it that certain artists continue to put out their books with you?

For me, it’s not that important. I think that was one of the key tenets of my original five or 10 year plan. I wanted to encourage people to go to to bigger publishers. The problem is that, being such a small company, I’m not going to be able to support people to the degree that Fantagraphics or First Second can. So actually, it works out perfectly for me, because people are interested in their earlier work, so I sell a lot of those.

For example, Alvin Buenaventura has been publishing Injury Comics by Ted May. A long time ago, I published It Lives by Ted May, so that’s still selling. Alvin is also going to be publishing Eric Haven’s next book—he did Tales to Demolish, for me. Eric is someone I’ve been a fan of, since ’91, or something like that, so for me, it’s great that he’s going to get more press and more and more distribution. And it helps me out, business-wise, because I can then sell out of the books that I did publish by him.

You officially launched the company in 2002?

Yeah.

How important was the timing in the success of the company?

Huh. I don’t really know. I never really took that into consideration. I think it’s really awesome that there are so many people interested in comics. It’s certainly better that it was, 10 years ago or six years ago. For me, it wasn’t a big consideration. I’ve always really believed in comics, so it doesn’t really matter to me how many people are interested. It’s more that I’m eventually going to interest everyone around me in comics, because I won’t shut up about them. That’s what’s happened. So many people are like that—we don’t shut up about comics—we’ve all encouraged all of these non-comics readers to read comics, which is pretty awesome.

What about geography. You’re obviously in something of a hub, right now.

I think for me, it wasn’t a hub when we moved here. I’m trying to think of my original inspirations for publishing. They weren’t geographical. They weren’t even in my region. I think, Greg Means at Tugboat was kind of an inspiration, but he had just started around kind of the same time. I think it was mostly that I happened to be a part of the growth of comics in Portland. I think we originally moved here because my fiancée wanted to go to an interior design school here. It wasn’t comics related. We were actually living in Olympia, Washington. I just always end up knowing comics people, no matter where I go.

In Portland, more than anywhere else—perhaps with the exception of San Francisco—there seems to be a very symbiotic relationship between the zine and mini-comics worlds.

It’s a lot of the same people, and San Francisco is the same way now. There really isn’t that much of a difference, it’s just that mini-comics have more drawings, but it’s a lot of the same personal stories and a little more individual viewpoints than the bigger ones. But for me, the Portland Zine Symposium has just been endlessly inspiring. It’s always been one of my favorite shows to do.

After having done a couple of classical comics conventions, the last couple of months, I’ve really been looking forward to the Portland and then San Francisco zine shows. It’s less about celebrity and making money, and more about what’s good and what people are doing and what’s a fun read. That’s something that I really like being a part of. And actually, they limited their table sizes at the Portland Zine Symposium, this year. I could easily fill up four or five tables at a show now, but I decided that I really wanted to do the show, so I’m playing by the rules and doing one table, because they really have a valid reason for that. They want as much variety as possible and as many individuals doing stuff as possible and I think that now that I’m distributing a lot of mini-comics and zines, it can kind of be overwhelming to have too much stuff on the table.

It’s a nice metaphor for your business plan—not having too much stuff on the table at any one time. We’re in the midst of convention season. You recently did Heroes Con and San Diego is steadily approaching. Do you ever feel like doing those larger shows might not be worth the effort?

[Laughs] It just depends on the show. I think it’s really the way the show promoters and everybody treats you. San Diego is just really fun to do, and I would probably go on my own—well, I don’t know about that [laughs]. I would probably go for one or two days, like Greg Means does. It’s good to be there. What I think is interesting about San Diego is that, because there’s so many people there, and because it’s so focused on Hollwood,and the bigger comics companies, that a lot of people go there, looking for the calm in the storm.

I’ve had a really good time and have usually done pretty well there. I think that, Global Hobo, which was a partner business for Sparkplug for a while, did well there before, so there’s a lot of interest in mini-comics and zines at that show, for some reason. At Heroes Con, there wasn’t as much interest, but it’s the same idea. There were so many dealers and people walking around in costumes that there were a lot of indie kids that came over to the table and were amazed to find this stuff.

They were seeking refuge.

Yeah. It’s a completely different thing that what happens at a zine show. Tim Goodyear from Teenage Dinosaur and I are doing the San Francisco zine show and then we’re going to San Diego, so it’s going to be an interesting study in contrasts.

–Brian Heater

While it was the release of Jason Shiga’s Eisner-nominated Bookhunter that brought Sparkplug Books to the attention of cultural critics across the country, without an equally strong roster of subsequent releases, it would have been easy to write the Portland-based publisher’s single book success off as a fluke.

Much to his credit, however, founder Dylan Williams—himself a cartoonist—has continually demonstrated a keen eye for spotting some of the most exciting artists toiling away in the small press universe, a fact reflected by a recent string of intriguing new releases by artists like Chris Wright, Trevor Alixopolous, and Elijah Brubaker.

In this second of a three part interview, we discuss Williams’s editorial role in the creation of books, the importance of staying small, and answer that question that is no doubt weighing heavy on everyone’s mind: just what the hell is Jason Shiga up to, these days?

How important was this idea of a “house style” when you were putting together the roster of artists?

It’s weird, because when I started I first strated, I had these high-minded, self-righteous ideals about how I could help out these people who weren’t getting enough exposure, but after a couple of years, I realized that it’s actually more about my taste. I can’t help out everybody, and it really does have to do with my taste, but that’s sort of the goal for me. The thing I do that’s a little bit different is that my goal in publishing isn’t trying to make as much money as quickly as possible, it’s having a bunch of books by people who may not be as well known. The books are a little more eccentric, like Renee [French]’s Edison Steelhead is a little unusual for a comic.

Unlike everything else she does…

Yeah, yeah, exactly. And that’s the thing, I just want encourage people like her to do things like that, and she happens to be pretty well known, but some people who aren’t as well known, like Trevor Alixopolous’s new book is sort of an unconventional narrative. I read a lot of literature, so for me, that actually is just like a lot of other narratives, but it just happens to be that, as a comic, it’s very unconventional. I think I want to aim for that kind of thing.

So you’re playing some kind of an editorial role, before the book’s even conceived?

Yeah—well, with Trevor, I basically want to encourage him to do anything, because I think he’s really talented. It just depends on the people. Different artists need different kinds of support. Some artists don’t need any support at all. They’re just going to do it on their own. I treat each person differently. Each book is a different process. Jason Shiga comes to me with fully-formed ideas and says, “this is what I want to do,” and I say, “that’s great!” Other people say, “I don’t quite know what to do. What do you think of this?”

Renee’s book is a bit of a spinoff from another work [The Ticking]. Did you play any role in that one, early on?

Yeah. Early on, I guess the role I played was that she had been doing these pieces a while and had them in gallery shows—we’re friends, and I said, “these pieces are great. You should put them in a book.” And she said, “well, why don’t you do the book?” [laughs]. So I guess we were both involved in that. And then she just ran from there, and it was all her idea, the way it ties into The Ticking.

Does investing this time in the business side of things take away from your more creative pursuits?

Not really. No more than anything I’ve done in my life. I think, for me, I draw the same amount, no matter what. For the past year, I was actually a co-owner of a gallery in Oregon. I think part of the reason I got out of there is that I already have my own business. But I sort of think of it altogether. My business is pretty fun, so it doesn’t feel like a day job, in the traditional sense—but it is. It’s very time consuming, but it’s fun.

At what point did it actually become a day job?

About two years ago, and it’s always in danger of going back and not being a full-time job. But about two years ago, I quit working at the engineering company I was working at, and decided to just do that. The momentum kept me going.

There’s that classic battle between wanting to keep your business afloat and not wanting things to get out of hand. Does it feel like something of a self-defeating business practice to not want your company to become too big?

It’s interesting, because I’m actually really into small business theory and hippie economics, so it actually makes more sense for me to keep it small, as far as my values. It’s pretty much a given that it’s going to stay small for as long as I can keep it that way. I think, even right now there are a lot of books that are getting attention and it’s going really well, but it feels like I’ve been able to keep it focused and small and work with people who are interested in the same things. Shannon [O’Leary] and Austin [English] both share a lot of values with me, so it’s pretty easy to do that. Neither of them want to turn it into the next Marvel [laughs].

Do you ever have a negative reaction to press? Does it feel like you need to reign it in sometimes?

I’m actually always really flattered and amazed by it. With Book Hunter—which has probably been our most successful book—that’s just a testament to Jason Shiga’s awesomeness. I think it’s kind of amazing to see that happen, because I’ve known Jason since high school, and it was always really neat to see him get more and more attention, and people becoming more and more adjusted to his unique vision. It was neat to see that go from Fleep, which was a stabled mini-comic to being nominated for the Eisner award. And for me it’s really fun to be a part of it in some way, because we’re friends. I feel really proud of it. Actually, I get sad when the books don’t get enough attention.

Is Jason putting out another book with you?

We’re in discussions. His people are talking to my people, but he is working on a science fiction epic at the moment. He’s got a romance that will probably come out before that.

[Concluded in Part Three]

–Brian Heater

[The above image was named from my MoCCA 2008 Flickr set, with apologies to Aaron Renier.]

Though it’s existed for a half-dozen years, it was the publication of Jason Shiga’s Eisner-nominated Bookhunter last May that truly established Sparkplug Comics as an indie comics force to be reckoned with. A labor of love turned career for Dylan Williams—a cartoonist himself—the Portland-based publishing house has continued to impress, with a continued to build steam with roster of books from the likes of Renee French, Dash Shaw, Andy Hartzell, and Elijah Brubaker. Still, as a business, Sparkplug has remained decidedly understated, ostensibly a three-person operation, Williams included, a direct result he insists, of the punk rock ethos on which he was weaned, growing up in Berkeley, California.

Having re-introduced myself to Williams at this year’s MoCCA, now seemed the opportune time to sit down with Sparkplug’s owner, during these few moments of much needed downtime between HeroesCon and San Diego.

You’re an artist yourself. How much of a role did that aspect of your life play in the launching of Sparkplug?

It was pretty important. I’d published other people’s stuff in the early 90s for about four or five years, and then I just focused on my own comics for a while. Through that I learned about distribution, publishing, printing, and all that. I saw what a hard time some of my friends were having with all of that—they really didn’t like to do that. For me it was actually pretty easy to do that stuff. I mean, I like going to the post office and stuff [laughs]. So it was actually kind of fun.

You like going to the post office?

Oh yeah.

You like the bureaucratic aspects of publishing?

Yeah. I like the oldness of the system. Especially if you’re drawing all day, it’s fun to go out there and hang out in line. I think that’s definitely a plus for me. There are a few things like that that I actually enjoy doing. I’m not good with some other things, but that sort of stuff I don’t mind.

I assume that enjoyment spreads to a tactile appreciation of a physical product. Does that make you a bit weary to push work towards the Web?

Yeah, but I’m also an old school nerd, so I really do like computers, but for the most part, I’d prefer to—I don’t know if it’s just because I’m old, but I think of the Internet as a sort of information resource and not as an artform as much. But I recognize that it is, for other people. It’s sort of like really nice encyclopedia for me, or a mail order catalog. That’s how I treat it, but a lot of my friends are doing Webcomics and doing really well with them. Tom Neely and David King both have Webcomics going right now that are doing really well.

So you do follow some of the work being published on the Web.

Yeah. I think it’s been a slow process. I had to adjust to it—I was so used to reading everything in print. I still prefer print. That’s the niche I like. I also don’t download a lot of music, still. And a lot of my friends are downloading movies now. I don’t do that, either.

Sparkplug has a Website and you recently launched a blog. Did you have to be pushed into that?

I mean, I like doing that stuff, but it’s a matter of time management for me, basically. How much time do I want to spend doing that? And I don’t like shopping things out to people or having other people do stuff. I liked to be involved in it. I was using the Sparkplug Myspace for a long time as a blog. But now we’ve decided to do a blog and let a lot of the artists write for it: Renee French, Trevor Alixopolous, and people like that, who are friends of Sparkplug and who also do a lot of blogging themselves, so they’re interested in it.

You mentioned that you don’t like shopping things out—how large of an operation is Sparkplug, at this point? How many people are working for you?

It’s me, Shannon O’Leary, who is our promotions manager, and Austin English, who’s the submissions editor. Usually at conventions, there are a bunch people who I share a table with or work with, and I let them put their book out and they work the table, in exchange for that. Tim Goodyear, who runs Teenage Dinosaur helps out a lot. So does Tom Neely. At Stumptown, Jason Miles from Fantagraphics was working the table because he has a bunch of books that he’s done that are pretty amazing.

One of the nice things about this industry—I guess that’s the right word to use—is that, even in terms of “competing” publishing houses, there seems to be a strong sense of camaraderie between people. Is there any sort of competition there, between you and other houses?

Not really. I think there’s just so many artists working right now and so many people interested in comics that it’s not really there. First off, for me, there’s no point to it. And really, there’s no competition for me, because there a big enough pond right now to deal with things. I think, in general, the trend is continuing. Also, a lot of the reason I started publishing was that I didn’t really dig mainstream comics, or really even the bigger indie comics companies. I wanted to be a part of the community and have a community approach to art.

Basically I came out of punk rock, and that’s where the values came from. I grew up in Berkeley, so those things are really important to me, and I try to participate in those things in comics, too. Alvin at Buenaventura has been really helpful to me and so has Dan Nadel [of Picture Box]. And Randy [Chang] at Bodega is probably one of the most supportive people I’ve dealt with. And locally, Greg Means from Tugboat and I have been working together a lot. We just did a book called Nerd Burglar, and we’re probably going to do other things. He kind of comes from the same background. He does music and has been involved with the local independent press scene for a long time, so he already has a lot of people that he works with. He’s always trying to support other independent business people.

Was that sense of dismay that you expressed toward some of the larger indies based on their output?

Well, for me [laughs]—I’ll go on record with this. One of the bigger ones was Fantagraphics, and the problem there was that they weren’t taking any chances on smaller people when I started. They were basically just publishing their own people that they’d had experience with. Within a few years of that, they actually have started changing. They’re doing Mome now. The whole point of Mome is to give some exposure to smaller artists.

I think that, through all of us smaller publishers, we’ve actually shown the bigger publishers that there are a whole bunch of artists worth investigating who may not be well-known, but can be just as appealing to people. Drawn and Quarterly—I never really had problems with them, it was just that they never expanded because they had a really tight aesthetic. It was very much about their personal taste. I really admire Chris [Oliveros] and Tom Devlin. They’re just amazing, in my book.

It’s amazing. They’ve got a huge roster, but they’ve got—I don’t know if “house style” is quite the right phrase, but there’s certainly a common thread through a lot of the stuff they put out.

I was just flipping through Previews, this morning, and I didn’t know I was on the Drawn & Quarterly page, but I was looking through the book and thinking about how great they looked. I looked up and it was Drawn & Quarterly, and I was like, “of course.” They have a very specific style. There’s certainly a level of quality throughout their books.

[Continued in Part Two]

–Brian Heater