Superman by Kevin Nowlan

An extensive Google Image search seems to reveal not one single hit for this amazing Superman splash page by Kevin Nowlan. So let's rectify that, shall we?

that's right, that's my handwriting at the top. no, I'm not taking sole credit for the brilliance of
the issue. not in public, at least
That is, of course, from Legends of the DC Universe #6 by the phenomenal creative team of Kelley Puckett, Dave Taylor and Kevin Nowlan, a team which, sadly, despite having absolutely amazing chemistry, did but the one issue.

But what an issue. It was just a single issue in the middle of an anthology series, yet both Chuck Dixon and Ron Marz have listed it amongst the comics they think are some of the greatest ever—and, as usual, those guys are right. Kelley's script was typically incisive in his minimalist way. Dave—one of my favorite comic book artists ever—was at the very top of his absolutely incredible game, and his layouts were utterly clear yet propulsive and inventive, despite being done in something like a week (not his fault: the issue was rushed into the pipeline when some other creative team dropped out belatedly). And, of course, Kevin's inks and colors were...well, they were some of his very finest ever, which is saying something, considering he's one of the very greatest artists in the history of the medium—truly an artist's artist.

Sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am.

Bruce Wayne by Brian Stelfreeze

And sometimes when you're packing for a big move you find yet another Brian Stelfreeze painting and for a little while you forget how tired and dusty and cranky you are.

a master by a master

Sometimes, when one is packing, one discovers one has almost done something horrifying, such as, hypothetically, accidentally putting an original Brian Stelfreeze painting in the Goodwill pile. But then sometimes, thanks to an eagle-eyed good lady wife, one might also discover a forgotten masterpiece, such as a sketch of Dennis O'Neil done by Mark Chiarello at a weekly DC Universe editorial meeting.


I've always wished I could draw. It wasn't on my list of Top Three Things at Which I Most Wish I Were Good, at least not until recently, but still: I've always wished I could draw. Not enough to actually, you know, put in the necessary work necessary to actually learn how. But I was a comic book fan—of course I wished I could draw.

But even if I were capable of illustrating my own graphic novel, I'm pretty sure I'd still choose to collaborate, at least some of the time, with others. Because that's one of my favorite things, when an idea starts getting kicked back and forth, and things you would never have thought of on your own suddenly appear and come to life. It was one of my favorite things about being in a band, too, when something would suddenly click and you were all on the same page, knowing what needed to happen next, where the song needed to go.

So I had an idea pop into my head out of the blue today: I decided to think about a character and then moments later another, related, character popped into my head. "Huh," I thought, "wouldn't it be kinda cool if..."

A minute later I had one of my favorite comic book creators on the phone. "Listen," I said. "wouldn't it be cool if..."

He listened, added a few things, we went back and forth for a while, and then the conversation moved on to other stuff. We talked for a bit, then he had to go pick up his kids.

Two minutes later, the phone rang. I was surprised to see his name on Caller ID. "I know how that story ends," he said, and told me the big climactic moment.


my Batman

If you're lucky enough to get to work on one of the most famous characters ever, you'll get asked occasionally if it's hard to make the character yours.

The answer is that I think every creator has a vision for what constitutes "their Batman." Maybe it's the lighthearted guy who carries Batshark Repellent. Or maybe it's an obsessed vigilante who's only barely able to keep from killing the criminals he's stopping. Maybe it's more on the detective side of the ledger, or maybe more on the superheroic—the urban legend loner or the leader of the Justice League. Maybe even tending towards the supernatural, as some have liked to go, or the more sci-fi take on the gadgets. Or some combination of all of the above.

So my Batman? I've always said it was a cross between Chuck Dixon's and Kelley Puckett's—interestingly, two writers who are fairly dissimilar in their approach to the medium, but whose Batman, perhaps more than any other writers', tends towards the silent. I think I prefer to go in a slightly more literary, less pulpy direction than Chuck, and a more straightforward, less intellectual, metaphorical direction than Kelley.

But then I was rereading, for the first time in many, many years, Batman #431, by the amazing creative team of Jim Owsley and Jim Aparo. A team which only actually did, if I recall correctly, two issues together. The notorious Death of Robin storyline had just wrapped, and its writer—Jim Starlin, and what was with all the Jims back then?—only wrote one more issue after its conclusion before moving on. Jim Owsley stepped in for a pair of issues, then John Byrne wrote a storyarc—which included an amazing almost 100% silent issue—before new regular writer Marv Wolfman took over.

So Jim Owsley—now known as Christopher Priest—and Jim Aparo only got to do two issues together. But what issues they are, especially their first. And rereading it just a few days ago, I realized, oh...this. This is my Batman.

I mean, just check out this sequence. I love everything about it.
How menacing, how tough, does the Batman look in that third panel? When people complain about the yellow oval, I think of how awesome is it when used correctly. 

But wait. It gets better. 
I mean. How badass is that? That second panel is so damn cool. But then that fourth panel is cooler still. He's so smart, so capable, that he can accurately predict what the terrified dude is thinking. Not to mention, how'd he get in and out of solitary like that? He's so cool

But wait. It gets better. 
See? See? See what I mean? His detective skills are a thing of majesty. But that's not all. Not even close. No, after noting things like the state of her teeth and her gait, he then fixes the old lady's sink. 

But that's not all! He's still not done: he goes to the morgue and is able to successfully impersonate a doctor, because of course he's got advanced knowledge of causes of death and their physical signs, and probably really could hack working as a medical examiner no sweat. Which I just thought was the more awesome thing I'd ever seen—and considering I'd seen the previous pages, is saying something.

But wait. It gets better.

The Batman, being the Batman, finds himself at odds with a legendarily deadly group of assassins known as, not coincidentally, The League of Assassins.
They charge. He jumps over them. The moment he lands, he's already whipping a batarang behind him. But not at them—at the lamp. His aim, of course, is perfect, because he's the damn Batman. They're no slouches themselves—they whip shurikens at him. But by the time they find their mark, he's already gone.

Now it's a hunt. Predator and prey. Four against one.

They, of course, are doomed.
The Batman. Takes out a master assassin. Using a frying pan.

And looking absolutely fabulous doing so, may I say. Seriously, that shot of him lifting the pan is one of my favorite Aparo drawings—and considering how much I love Jim Aparo's Batman...

But wait. It gets better.
He knows the others will have been alerted by the sound of a frying pan concussing their fellow assassin, so he's already got it raised, ready to shield him from the shurikens they're going to be sending his way. Then he uses the pan to take out another assassin. Because he's the damn Batman.

We skip a page now, because fair use only goes so far, but the Batman takes out a third assassin, for he is the damn Batman. Meaning it's just the dark knight and one final killer. Our hero discards his cape because he is a matador taunting the bull and because he looks so cool that way.

How great is Aparo's storytelling on this page? The first three panels not only anticipate the widescreen trend of the early Aughts, they're practically Asian in style—as is not inappropriate for the material. Then the three final panels, all in one tier. We are shocked to realize the Batman has been wounded. The assassin laughs. But not, we discover, because he believes he's killed the dark knight, but in admiration, as he realizes that the Batman has instead taken him out, using the most arcane of fighting techniques. Which only a small handful (no pun intended) of people know. One of which, of course, is the Batman. Because of course he does.

Because he's the damn Batman.

So. I read this and I think, yeah...this is the way to do it. This is my vision of Batman. This is my Batman. A guy who knows the deadliest, most recondite of mystic martial arts, but rarely if ever uses them...and still takes the time to fix an old lady's sink. That's how I think the Batman should be. That's my Batman.

Thanks, Jim and Jim.

minimalist storytelling

I've worked on hundreds and hundred of comics, as either writer or editor, but Batman Adventures #20, by the unbeatable creative team of Kelley Puckett, Mike Parobeck and Rick Burchett is the only comic I can remember where not only did the writer note in the script that the penciller and inker owed him a debt of gratitude for the paid day off, but where the letterer actually wrote in the margin on the original board, "I get the art to this page"...and indeed he—the great Richard Starkings—did. And justifiably so.
I don't remember who ballooned this page. I was usually a stickler for doing the ballooning when I was editing, but Richard always felt free to tweak the placements as he saw fit. I have no idea whether he did or not here—although knowing Richard, he probably did—but he surely placed each and every balloon absolutely perfectly, down to the millimeter.

The United States of California

This amazing map from BoingBoing really makes crystal clear just how big California is, population-wise—it's the US, divided into sections with a populations equal to California's. (And I just realized I've lived in four of the eight—not bad.)

Black Panther: a storytelling masterclass

When I heard that Ta-Nehisi Coates—long one of my favorite writers—and Brian Stelfreeze—long one of my favorite artists, not to mention favorite people—were teaming up to work on a Black Panther monthly, I was over the moon excited. These pages show exactly why.

All right. So this is from the fourth issue. By now the readers are already well acquainted with these characters: T'Challa, who's the king of Wakanda—as well as being the Black Panther, of course—and Ramonda, his stepmother, the queen mother. But even if you didn't know any of that, even if these were the only two pages you'd ever read, you'd get much of that from the dialogue, which uses their names and/or titles unobtrusively, clueing you in to their relationship and artfully filling in some previously unknown but important backstory, as well as some of the nuances of their own relationship.

Now look at the elegance of the way each page is composed. The first with its bookends of widescreen panels, while the middle tier is composed of identically sized vertical panels, is a model of balance. The two widescreen panels show essentially the same thing, T'Challa and Ramonda having breakfast. But because the second is significantly panned in, there's nothing monotonous about repeating a similar shot. Similarly, each panel in the middle tier is the same shape and size (save for the round panel borders on the first two, denoting that they're flashbacks, and major damn props for the old school storytelling there), with one character in each the primary focus. But because Brian moves the camera in and out, up and down, each image feels fresh. Adding to all this, of course, is absolutely stellar color work by the magnificent Laura Martin, who not only renders the very first panel as though Maxfield Parrish were painting a Wakandan cityscape, but adds to the clarity of the flashbacks by going monochromatic, but using a different palette for each, to denote different times in the past.

The second page, by contrast, is just as elegantly laid out, but Brian chooses an alternate approach: again, three tiers, but this time only the middle tier is widescreen, while the first has three equal sized panels and the bottom two. Again, a perfectly balanced page, but with enough variety to keep the eye fully engaged—and note, too, how often on this second page we're treated to subtle downshots: literal bird's eye views of this high high above the city's streets scene.

But here's the thing. Check out the way Brian reveals how T'Challa is feeling during this conversation. It starts with him sitting at the table, but as the talk progresses, he moves further and further away from his stepmother—except that they're on a balcony, so there's only so far away he can move. But he gets every bit as far away as possible, until by the final panel, his heels seem to literally be hanging over the edge.

Now, if he were any other character, you'd infer from this that the guy was suicidal, or at least reckless, or perhaps drunk or even just plain stupid. But T'Challa is precisely none of those things: he's the Black Panther, which means he's in complete command of his body. He knows exactly where he is and what's perfectly safe for him to do, even if it wouldn't be for just about any other human. He knows he's not going to fall, but if he were to, he wouldn't be killed on account of his suit—although, even then, things probably wouldn't get to that point, as he'd be able to arrest his fall, most likely, because, again, he's the Black damn Panther, and that's how badass he is.

Or how badass he can be. He's only this badass in this exact situation because of the choice his badass artist made to show, in one small understated panel, this subtle, incisive bit of characterization.

Brian Stelfreeze: The Flash!

So I've been asked to write a piece about Brian Stelfreeze, which is convenient, since it's one of my favorite things to do anyway. I start writing about a poster of The Flash Brian painted back in the 90s but for once my normally outstanding google-fu is failing me; according to the internet, Brian did no such thing. But I'm sure he did—it was hanging up all over the DC Comics offices. And yet.

Naturally, I write Brian and ask him if I'm losing my mind. He draws one fewer Black Panther panels that day, instead sending me a copy of the mythical painting in question. It looks even better than I'd remembered, and I'd loved it at the time.

So it's official. I haven't completely lost my mind, not yet. And here, internet—this is for you: Brian Stelfreeze's painted Flash poster. You're welcome.

Batman: Dark Tomorow podcast

So here's a thing I did—an interview about the infamous Batman: Dark Tomorrow videogame I wrote once upon a time. Chris Clow, the gent who interviewed me, did a great job and, apparently, is the person who actually bought the game despite having already played some of it. Now there's dedication!

Check out the interview here—but be prepared, it's not brief. What can I say? Who doesn't love to talk about their greatest flop? Besides...I'm actually really still quite fond of the damn thing. Sure, it was a disaster, but I had fun doing it, and some of the cinematics are still pretty groovy. And I'm a sucker for The Noble Failure™, even when it's mine.

Gotham Adventures #17

When I was first trying to figure out how to differentiate the original Batman Adventures run from the many other Batman comics we were then producing, one of the things that occurred to me was to strictly limit the number of panels per page.

I liked this idea for a few reasons. The first was that the book was designed to be accessible and attractive to the very earliest of readers, and fewer, bigger panels seemed to me one way to achieve that goal. But the other thing was that we were, obviously, tied to the brilliant animated show. And I felt that by going with fewer and therefore bigger panels per page, we'd be making it a faster read, sorta kinda imitating the kind of motion animation obviously has and which comics obviously don't have.

I thought it worked wonderfully. Some creators felt it was a bit restrictive, but others flourished—most obviously the unsurpassable team of Kelley Puckett, Mike Parobeck and Rick Burchett. I found it to be something like working in blank verse rather than free verse, somewhat akin to the (perhaps apocryphal?) famous Robert Frost quote that writing free verse was like playing tennis without a net. I loved the challenge of writing (hopefully) fully satisfying, interesting, exciting, funny, thought-provoking stories with an absolutely maximum of 85 panels (and sometimes even fewer).

Fortunately, in Tim Levins I found a co-creator more than up for the challenge. Just check out this page, from Gotham Adventures #17—only our second issue working together:
Look at how clear, how elegant, yet how interesting this page is.

The exterior establishing shot, shot from far away and high above, already indicating the house—mansion, really—is extremely large...and there are unconscious bodies strewn about.

Move in for an interior establishing shot, with another interesting camera angle, another victim in the extreme foreground, others in the background, and more indications of wealth.

The third panel, the first to show actual action, as two more victims are tossed onto an enormous desk, the action ramping things up, the angle straight on for maximum clarity.

Then the final panel, pulling the camera back, although still eye level, with the Batman and not just his deeds at long last on stage, way off to the right of the panel, his antagonist on the far left, their placements drawing a parallel between these two characters, both largely in shadow and yet the antagonist's wheelchair highlighting the obvious difference.

Gotham Adventuers #20: Swing

Reason #739381 I love working with Tim Levins

Compare and contrast the script page I wrote:
Page Five
Panel One
Batman and Robin swing as only they can. Starry, starry night behind them, Gotham all a-twinkle. It’s poetry, really.
     ROBIN: Wow. I knew Eden’s Own was popular, but I had no idea it’d gotten this big. 
     BATMAN: So you’ve heard of this cereal before? 

Panel Two
     ROBIN: Are you kidding? Eden’s Owns is the hottest thing on the market. There’s a lot of people who won’t eat anything else.
     ROBIN: I first heard about it from Batgirl--it’s only sold through health food stores, so college kids were about the first to pick up on it. 

Panel Three
They land on a rooftop.
     ROBIN: These days, though...

Panel Four
Robin gestures to the street down below. We can see a row of stores, all of which are closed; well, it is four o’clock in the morn, for pete’s sake. Then how come there is a huge queue, at least two dozen deep, forming outside the Blossom’s Health Foods store? Ah, mysteries... If we can see it, the store’s got a big sign in the window: “We Have Eden’s Own!”
     ROBIN: Well, just take a look.
     ROBIN: The store won’t even be open for five hours and people are already lining up to buy the stuff.
 with what Tim then drew:


I wrote "swing."

That was the total of my shot description. And that big panel is what I got in return.

Look at the characterization there: the Batman all big, bold, aggressive, assured, sheer power yet graceful, whereas Robin is more, well, kid-like, albeit a kid who's got the ability and nerve to swing from a line hundreds of feet above the city streets. Awesome.

I was fascinated to look at my page of script today, as it'd been 15 years or so since I'd last looked at it. This was only the fourth issue Tim and I had worked on together, and yet looking at those minimalist shot descriptions, very clearly I'd already internalized just what he was capable of and willing to bring to the table as an artist, and trusted him completely. As well as I should. That big dramatic panel, bookended by the smaller yet still visually interesting and aesthetically pleasing panels, with the final panel pure storytelling? That's like Comic Book Storytelling 101 right there.