Showing posts with label Chuck Dixon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chuck Dixon. Show all posts

Thursday, 23 August 2018

Writing lesson from Chuck Dixon






I wonder why I did not share this before.

I've already written extensively about by love for the late Argentinian artist JORGE ZAFFINO, whom I consider a true master of comics.

In the US, Zaffino worked at many reprises with writer Chuck Dixon, a veteran of american comics, with thousands of stories under his belt and mostly known as the writer who created Batman's villain Bane.

To me, the height of their collaboration was reached on the one-shot book Seven Block, first published for Epic, a now defunct Marvel Comics imprint for more mature, creator-owned material.


The book has been reprinted in black and white by IDW, but seems to be unfortunately out-of-print.


Like much of Dixon's output, it is basically a genre-piece, in this case horror (but Dixon is as well-versed in fantasy, action, adventure and more), but elevated by the impeccable execution of both script and art.


A necessary remark: for all the praise I have for the script, it must be said that the art is crucial nonetheless. The same script drawn by a lesser artist would be robbed of its power. Think of a great movie script badly acted or poorly directed.

When I re-read the book a few years back, I was surprised by the clarity in the storytelling; when I discovered that Dixon was reachable via his own website and via facebook, I got in touch and asked him a few questions specifically about this piece of work.

He was kind enough to answer, but until now I did not think of sharing this exchange with the rest of the world.


I think it provides some useful insights for storytellers and for anyone aspiring to a career in comics.






(note: The following text has been redacted in interview form for readability)



Q: Lately I've been studying Seven Block: would there be the chance to have look to the original script?

A: The original script was many, many hard drives ago. In fact, it may actually have been typewritten.

Q: I love Zaffino's art in it, but I've also noticed how well-paced it is: I've noticed most "sequences" fits neatly in one page and even when they are 2 or 3 pages long, the action is broken down so that every page has a strong dramatic unity. Did you work with that precise structure in mind and worked every scene until they reached the desired length?

A: I usually try to keep the dramatic beats to one page in any of my stories. I think it makes it easier to follow and allows me to avoid "Meanwhile back at the ranch" type captions. 
The reader unconsciously picks up on the rhythm and knows that a new scene may start when they turn the page. But each page ended on a suspenseful or dramatic note to draw the reader forward and make turning the page as irresistible as I could make it. And it was Jorge who turned those pages into the masterworks of comic art that they are. He always made me look like a genius. Jorge and I were very simpatico despite the language barrier. In the first draft of Seven Block I had the black doctor tell one of his compatriots to "go f--- himself". My editor felt this language was too strong so I removed the line and didn't provide a replacement. I simply had the doctor walk away without saying anything. That's the script that Jorge worked from. But when I got the finished art I was surprised to se that Jorge had drawn the doctor giving the finger as he walked away. He knew what the scene needed without knowing about the stricken line. 

Q: I love also how essential is the information you give to the reader. There is no use of captions, dialogue is straight to the point. With the sole exception of a dialogue between the two doctors at one point (necessary to download some info about the history and purpose of the experiment) there is no trace of expository dialogue. It sounds very casual and real. How you make sure there is enough for the reader to follow the plot?

A: My treatment of dialogue and plotting comes from studying the films of Howard Hawks. Each of his movies, regardless of genre, seems to flow effortlessly from event to event without the sense that there is a creative hand guiding everything. His dialogue rarely speaks of the plot yet informs us about character in a way that keeps the story clear and progressing. It wasn't until I read his biography that I learned that none of these things were accidents. Hawks worked very hard to conceal the fact that he was telling a story and allowed events to proceed as naturally as possible from scene to scene. Most scenes would serve at least two purposes and there was never a wasted moment.








Friday, 8 May 2009

Jorge Zaffino

Jorge ZAffino


I have already written about him in a previous post, but I'd like to spend some more words on this great and prematurely gone artist.

Jorge Zaffino was born in Argentina in 1960 and, according to the sites I have visited, lived there all his life.

At the age of 16, he began working as an unpaid apprentice at the comics studios of Ricardo and Enrique Villagran.

He's been introduced to american audineces with Winterworld, a fantasy saga (that from what I read seem to share some story element with the french-belgian "Niege" saga) written by Chuck Dixon.
With Dixon, Zaffino will realize the majority of his american work.
He died of an £Heart attack in 2002, aged 42.

Ok, this was his bio. But what I want to talk abut is his impact on me.

For starters, I did not like his art at first. In 1994; aged 14, I was exposed to one of his best works. It was a 45-page one-shot for Epic,the creator-owned division of Marvel comics, featuring material aimed to a mature readers, called Seven Block.

It was publihed in Itlay on the pages of the anthologic Star Magazine published by Star Comics.
For accuracy's sake, I should point out that issue 17 of StarMag (as called by its readers) dates back to 1992, but I became a regular reader only by issue 18.
I bought #17 later in a comic book shop, and my attention was all for Sub-City by Todd McFarlane, published in the same issue.

(Sub-City was McFarlane's last Spiderman story before he left Marvel to create Spawn, the shortly lived Image Comics and the succesful McFarlane Toys).

Time did justice: I regard now Sub-City as one of the dumbest things I'v ever read. Worse even than MacFarlane's debut as a writer: Torment, where at least he tried to create a style and to a convey sense of, well, torment.

I'm trerribly off-track now.

That to say that I skipped Seven Block entirely and did not read it for another year or two: no super heroes, acid colors, too dark, too realistic.
I liked bright coloured comic books where heroes where clearly defined.
I liked John Byrne, Neal Adams, John Romita, Kevin Maguire, Mike Zeck...
I could appriciate The Last Hunt of Kraven or The Dark Knight Returns because they featured my favorite heroes. But Seven Block? It looked like the art was xeroxed several times: gritty, rough and black.

Then came Cyberpunk. Cyberpunk was a role-playing game from the '90s. the setting was a distopian urban future, a cocktail that blended all apocaliptic visions of the future of authors like Philip K. Dick, Williams Gibson, Rod Serling, and a plethora of films like Blade Runner, Mad Max, Escape from N.Y., Soylent Green, The Terminator, as well as mangas and/or animes like Akira, The Ghost in the Shell and so on.

I used to play this role-playing game with my friends and we spent hours and hours pretending to be hitmen, clandestine doctors or drug dealers in the near future, where guns and women were available for a reasonable price.

Andrea S., who as game master had essentially to come up with all the plots, organized a whole series of story arcs worth of a prime-time TV series; those story ideas, combined with our style of playing (we were keener on acting than on rolling multi-faceted dices to see who would win a fight) did the rest.

Am I off track again?
Maybe, but let me continue.

The rest I'm referring to is the realization that if put down on paper, our adventures would be relly fun to read. I came to this realization after a prticular tense scene: my friends had to kill one of our team in order to save me (well they did non have to but...).
The gruesome resolution to that scene had potential for a great comic book moment.
I started putting down on paper the chronicle of what happend to us and a lot of the anecdotes that made our playing sessions memorable and started taking seriously in consideration the idea of submitting the material.

I do not know if what we had was good, but I'm still convinced it could be a fun story to read.

At one point I had to figure out what the art should look like.

The kind of story we were playing, more than to mangas or Mad Max, made me think to The X-Files and Pulp Fiction.
I also envisioned a non-linear storytelling in order to create as many plot twists and cliffhangers as possible (I would say that the thing that now comes closer to it would be LOST), but I needed a style to match.

Our characters were not square-jawed paladines, but flawed cinics who did a lot of mistakes (and yes who could also do very cool stuff).

Looking for references I went throught my collection of comic books, and that creepy looking story by Dixon and Zaffino called Seven Block came to mind. Even though I never really read that story, those panels somehow grew on me.
I slipped the magazine out of the shelf and digged in to the story.

Boy, was I mistaken the first time around!

The plot itself is very much like an episode from the first season of The X-Files. A confined location, a lot of atmosphear, little gore (it may be filmed on a shoestring budget, and I mean that as a compliment) a creepy ending.

But the art! The art was simply beautiful. Being an art student by then, and having to deal with drawing from life every day, I was the able to see what Jorge Zaffino was doing with his rough, sketchy style.

What stroke me was that compared to a lot of other argentinian or italian artists who drew with a similar "impressionist" technique where the shapes are defined by shadows and light rather than by lines, he had a "solidness" a presence I usually did not associate with this style.

I think of Hugo Pratt, Venturi, Ivo Milazzo.
The only fair equivalents I could find were John Buscema (when he did Conan) and maybe Alberto Breccia, but both were a lot more "baroque". Maybe Al Williamson, who inks in a much more polished way though, or Tanino Liberatore, who is a lot less skilled in composiotion and storytelling.

One last artist that comes to mind would be Danijel Zezelj, but im my opinion his art is a lot less lively than Jorge's.

(Do not get me wrong, I love all of the above and I think they all are great artists, but on some lenghts Zaffino seemed to beat them all -still in my opinion)

Jorge seemed to have it all: a solid classic background, knowledge of anatomy and realism, a fresh style, not caged by pointless nice artistic gestures, an uncommon sense for composition (the balance in many of his pages is worth being studied) and amazing stoytelling craft: what happens is very clear on the page.

The sketches I relized for that old project were not reminiscent of Zaffino. The project itself has been put in to an artificial coma for years now, awaiting the right moment to surface (as we get closer to the year the story itself was set).

But a similar thing happened again, when I bagan to toy with the idea of another project (with Alessandro Q).

At first I ordered some of his works on Amazon. then I started looking for news about him on the internet, only to find out he sadly passes away already seven years ago, leaving two sons and a wife.

This is may late tribute to an artist's artist. Someone who may be shamefully forgotten, beacuse of a relatively small body of work, but who left a strong impression on a lot of other artists.

On his website (still on line) you'll find some word from other artists who worked with him and who do remember him fondly.

I leave you with a drawing from his last little story for DC (once agin by Chuck Dixon) that you can find on the first volume of Betman Black and White.

This 8-page jewel is a perfect example of what I mean.

Batman and a never-so-beautyfully-drawn Commissioner Gordon look new and classic at the same time. He capture them is realistic poses, without taking the magic away from them. A trick only David Mazzucchelli managed to succeed into in Batman Year One.

Friday, 27 February 2009

Il maestro e l'allievo



Non sapevo bene quale pagina del grande Jorge Zaffino scegliere per rendere omaggio a questo grande (e ahimé scomparso) artista.
Ho scelto la pagina 4 di Blocco Sette il fumetto grazie al quale lo ho scoperto.
Non è la migliore dell'album, ma la ho qui disponibile.
Preferisco la versione a colori acidi effettivamente stampata dalla Epic ma, senza i colori forse si può apprezzare meglio il lavoro di questo gigante.

Sotto ancora un disegnino mio, mentre cerco di capire come si fa a disengare così bene...