The Insidious Power of Advertizing

I don't even watch Russell Crowe movies because his face annoys me. How did I let this happen?



I wonder... if you really can't stand an artist's personality but like his work, should this be considered a contradiction?

I met this artist at the Toronto Comicon in April. Never heard of him before, but he showed me his independantly published comic books and talked them up a bit. I liked the artwork, bought a couple of books and signed up for his mailing list. My impression of the dude himself was that he looked a bit like a moptop a la Beatles circa 1958, could probably stand to shower a tad more, and that he was VERY good at selling himself. Kinda quirky in a good way, but a little too hard-sell for my taste.

When I got home, I read the books. The first one featured glorified stories of his life while drawing that particular comic book, and how pumped he was to finally be doing that. Ooooookay.... Still, the second showed promise. Some interesting story ideas, nice pacing. Okay, it was still interspersed with stories about selling his comic book on the street, and the reactions of people who get approached by an overenthusiastic, hard selling guy peddling his comic books. Still, showed promise.

Then I started getting the e-mail updates. The man knows how to advertize, I'll say that for him. They featured huge cliff hanger ad campaigns for his next book COMING OUT SOON!!!! and a link to the website. I checked out the website and found that each book had an unveiling ceremony (special invites to members of the mail list!) at a secret location. You get to meet the artist! And be one of the first to buy the book! And get it signed!

The evening even features readings by the artist. Yeah, you read that right. Readings. Of a comic book.

There were pictures of each of the previous "unveiling" parties. The stack of comic books are literally kept under a cloth until an appointed time when the artist, with much fanfare (drumroll) whips off the cloth! Behold! The new issue! Admire it. Love it. Buy it.

For the readings, the artist stands on a table, shushes the crowd (yes, there's a picture of him shushing the crowd), and reads the comic book ("acting out all the characters!" exclaims the website) while all the people -- mostly young girls, I've noticed -- sit on the floor, obediently following along in their own copies.

Is it just me or does this really seem overly pretentious? His art is still very much an underground thing, independantly published (ie, him and a few friends with staplers and a photocopy service), and sold on Queen street by himself. That, and he's put out all of three books. There's no way that he can be famous or even well known enough to merit this kind of brouhaha with the publishing of each book. Heck, I'll bet that neither Stan Lee or Will Eisner ever got this kind of publicity from their publishers with the printing of each new Marvel or The Spirit comic issue.

I can't buy into this self-important hype with getting skeevy chills up and down my spine, and yet... How does this explain that I'm riding up and down Queen St. trying to find his ever elusive comic (erm... stand? table?) to get a copy of that next issue? Okay, so I've only done this once, and frankly, I didn't have anything more pressing to do that day, but still! Somehow, I do want to read that book, to own a copy, and it's bothering me.

How could I not stand the man, but still want to support his work? Especially when it's the method with which he peddles himself that I can't stand? I'm buying into the hype somehow, but I'm cringing at the very thought of it.

Congratulations, Mr Overblown Artist. You've managed to win another grudging admirer. You couldn't pay me enough to go to an unveiling, but somehow your publicity stunts work. Good luck with that advertizing there.


Oct. 2, 2004



 

 
Index
Home
Journey
Stepping Stones
sKrATchpad
The Fountain
sKrATchpad
sKrATch Pad
Memorial
Dec. 6/89


© Kat Lai, 2004.
Please e-meow me if you have any comments or suggestions!

  Sign Guestbook   View Guestbook