Tuesday 26 April 2016
Wednesday 7 October 2015
Reading List: Krazy Kat & The Art of George Herriman
Krazy Kat & The Art of George Herriman
Craig Yoe, Abrams Comicarts 2011
I was about 16 or 17 when my dad first introduced me to the Krazy Kat strips, and have counted them among my favourite pieces of art ever since (for they are surely art, and to call them anything but is a grave insult). The pen and ink work may seem crude at first glance, but there is a life and vitality in Herriman's lines that brings such instant character to the inhabitants of Coconino County that it is hard not to think of him as a minimalist genius. The bulk of the strips revolve around the strange love triangle between Krazy, an androgynous cat (Kat?) who is besotted with Ignatz, a cynical mouse who loves nothing more than hurling bricks at Krazy. The cat sees these as love notes and welcomes them as proof of Ignatz' affections. The third player in the triangle is Offissa Pupp, a dog who acts as local lawman - and is in turn in love with Krazy. He sees it as his obligation (by office and by his love for the cat) to prevent Ignatz from bricking Krazy, and many strips end up with the mouse staring ruefully out of the jail window.
Around this basic formula Herriman is able to build up a beautiful world full of odd characters, poetry and emotion. But above all this it is the art which I fell in love with. The world of Coconino County, in all its beautifully realised anarchy is a creation reminding you of the flexibility of the comic strip as an art form. As Bill Watterson says "There are some things a comic strip can do that no other medium, not even animation, can touch, and Krazy Kat is a virtual essay on comic strip essence." Backgrounds morph and shift from panel to panel - a pine tree might become a potted cactus, or a mountain appear where there once was empty sky - and nobody blinks an eye. The county, normally depicted as a desert (it was loosely based on Herriman's impression of Monument Valley, and named after the real area in Arizona), might appear as luscious meadows - the buttes and mesas of last weeks strip replaced by rolling hills - or by the coast, where in one memorable strip Ignatz has inexplicably become captain of a crew of pirate mice. It is this skill for imbuing every element of the strip (from characters to backgrounds, even the hand written speech bubbles and captions) with a buzzing, organic and innocent vigour, that I think sets Krazy Kat apart.
But not all strips are pure comedy. Many times Herriman uses the cast of his quaint little town as a vehicle for philosophical musings or social comment. One strip sees the self-confessed "elite" of Coconino refuse to look after two orphaned babies (in fact they can't run away fast enough when Joe Stork appeals for their help), only to find that Krazy (described as "the proletariat") is more than willing to take them in. In fact, aside from my belief that the stories are worthy of the title "art", it may be wrong to describe them as "comics" simply because of the range of non-comedic content. Every strip tells a story, and while many are sweet tales of love and friendship, and almost all contain some level of comic violence, very few have follow the classic setup/punchline structure found in most daily strips of the era. Some entire strips follow Krazy as he wanders around talking to himself - no action at all, except for the vibrant energy of Herriman's ink as the cat strolls through the panels, reciting his thoughts in that idiosyncratic lingo that turn his "kurious" questioning from dull comic-book prose into Coconino poetry.
This book has shed some interesting light on Herriman himself, and the influences in his life which informed the world of Krazy Kat. I would recommend to anyone who is a fan of the series, and highly recommend it as a way-in for anyone unacquainted with the denizens of Coconino County.
Craig Yoe, Abrams Comicarts 2011
I was about 16 or 17 when my dad first introduced me to the Krazy Kat strips, and have counted them among my favourite pieces of art ever since (for they are surely art, and to call them anything but is a grave insult). The pen and ink work may seem crude at first glance, but there is a life and vitality in Herriman's lines that brings such instant character to the inhabitants of Coconino County that it is hard not to think of him as a minimalist genius. The bulk of the strips revolve around the strange love triangle between Krazy, an androgynous cat (Kat?) who is besotted with Ignatz, a cynical mouse who loves nothing more than hurling bricks at Krazy. The cat sees these as love notes and welcomes them as proof of Ignatz' affections. The third player in the triangle is Offissa Pupp, a dog who acts as local lawman - and is in turn in love with Krazy. He sees it as his obligation (by office and by his love for the cat) to prevent Ignatz from bricking Krazy, and many strips end up with the mouse staring ruefully out of the jail window.
Around this basic formula Herriman is able to build up a beautiful world full of odd characters, poetry and emotion. But above all this it is the art which I fell in love with. The world of Coconino County, in all its beautifully realised anarchy is a creation reminding you of the flexibility of the comic strip as an art form. As Bill Watterson says "There are some things a comic strip can do that no other medium, not even animation, can touch, and Krazy Kat is a virtual essay on comic strip essence." Backgrounds morph and shift from panel to panel - a pine tree might become a potted cactus, or a mountain appear where there once was empty sky - and nobody blinks an eye. The county, normally depicted as a desert (it was loosely based on Herriman's impression of Monument Valley, and named after the real area in Arizona), might appear as luscious meadows - the buttes and mesas of last weeks strip replaced by rolling hills - or by the coast, where in one memorable strip Ignatz has inexplicably become captain of a crew of pirate mice. It is this skill for imbuing every element of the strip (from characters to backgrounds, even the hand written speech bubbles and captions) with a buzzing, organic and innocent vigour, that I think sets Krazy Kat apart.
But not all strips are pure comedy. Many times Herriman uses the cast of his quaint little town as a vehicle for philosophical musings or social comment. One strip sees the self-confessed "elite" of Coconino refuse to look after two orphaned babies (in fact they can't run away fast enough when Joe Stork appeals for their help), only to find that Krazy (described as "the proletariat") is more than willing to take them in. In fact, aside from my belief that the stories are worthy of the title "art", it may be wrong to describe them as "comics" simply because of the range of non-comedic content. Every strip tells a story, and while many are sweet tales of love and friendship, and almost all contain some level of comic violence, very few have follow the classic setup/punchline structure found in most daily strips of the era. Some entire strips follow Krazy as he wanders around talking to himself - no action at all, except for the vibrant energy of Herriman's ink as the cat strolls through the panels, reciting his thoughts in that idiosyncratic lingo that turn his "kurious" questioning from dull comic-book prose into Coconino poetry.
This book has shed some interesting light on Herriman himself, and the influences in his life which informed the world of Krazy Kat. I would recommend to anyone who is a fan of the series, and highly recommend it as a way-in for anyone unacquainted with the denizens of Coconino County.
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