Q: Blood Song is a unique novel on its own, but it is also the first graphic novel published by Harcourt's Harvest imprint. How does planning the creation of a graphic novel differ from that of a conventional novel? How different is a "traditional" graphic novel from the structure of Blood Song, a story told only in pictures and no words? Do you develop the plot using storyboards? Or the traditional written story line? Or by some other method?
A: The genesis of a graphic novel is similar in conception
and construction to any conventional novel. Even a story told solely in
pictures must feature characters who breathe and react to their
environment. Much as a traditional writer experiments with various plot
devices, I drew hundreds of sketches during Blood Song's
early stages, which I later developed into more elaborate sequences.
Q: But for an occasional splash of bright color, Blood Song is very much a study in blue and black. What medium(s) did you use to create the original art, and why did you choose to use this unusual color palette?
A: The entire cycle of images was
engraved in scratchboard, a technique akin to woodcut. I then added thin
layers of watercolor, which counter-balance the sharp, jagged, linear
effect of the scratchboard, achieving a softer, mist-infused atmosphere.
Although Blood Song was printed in full color, I chose to use a
limited palette that would quietly unify the story. This also allowed
the rare blasts of blazing color--which occur with each epiphany--to
sing as loudly as possible.
Q: A pet dog accompanies the heroine on her journey. The dog constantly moves, constantly sniffs and explores, and, most notably, seems to adjust to changes with a kind of instinctual acceptance. What is the significance of the dog in the greater scheme of Blood Song?
A: In many ways, the dog is the story's true
hero. We are introduced to the animal in the book's opening
pages--actually, even, before the girl. The dog protects the girl along
her journey, and is the ever-present face of Nature, who witness the
human drama as it unfolds.
Q: In both the jungle and the city, you portray the military and/or police in a negative, potentially controversial manner. What experiences of your own, if any, influenced you to present these forces in this way?
A: Coming of age on
Manhattan's Lower East Side, I experienced first hand the brutality that
vested interests will unleash on the public. As friends and neighbors
were forcibly evicted, parks closed, and rents increased--all to
manipulate real estate values--it became obvious whom those in uniform
were actually sworn "to serve and protect." The military and police in
Blood Song are portrayed as the loyal guardians of interests
that--though only hinted at beyond the book's pages--can be recognized
as controlling much of our outside world.
Q: Some of the pictures in Blood Song are eerily beautiful, some joyful, and some disheartening, but in all cases, the art is complete--with enough detail to follow the story. In fact, the pictures do tell the entire story. How long did it take to complete this project, and how many actual canvases did you create before selecting the final illustrations?
A: The story itself came
to me quite suddenly. Six years ago, as I was walking through a park in
Amsterdam, the last leg of my European book tour, the story grabbed me.
I continued to circle the park for an hour or two, until the entire
plot, characters, and landscape came into focus. I carried this story
around in my head for a year before I slowly began to pull it out. After
a couple of false starts--versions that didn't feel right--and thousands
of thumbnail sketches, I finally arrived at the appropriate level of
abstraction, monochromatic color scheme, and the diptych format, to
"tell" the tale.
Q: It has been ten years since the original publication of Flood!, and naturally a lot has happened both in the world and in your own life since then. Looking back over the last decade, what thoughts come to mind when you compare Flood! to your new novel Blood Song?
A: Flood!, my first attempt at a novel in
pictures, was largely autobiographical, about an artist living in New
York City in the final days of the twentieth century. Blood Song is a
more ambitious attempt, years later, at creating a fable--a fairy tale,
of sorts. The tropical island is mythical, outside of time. The Big City
could be any metropolis today: Tokyo, London, New York, Mexico City,
Hong Kong. Ten years after Flood!, it's hard to miss the
encroaching specter of corporate globalism devouring natural resources
and human labor with increasing speed and cruelty. It's against this
worldwide economic backdrop that Blood Song is set.
Q: In Flood!, the main character is a man, and in Blood Song it is a teenaged girl. Is there a significance to this? Where did the inspiration for the girl in Blood Song come from?
A: Blood Song is the flip side of
Flood!, which involved a man living in a city with his cat;
Blood Song involves a girl living in the jungle with her dog. (In
fact, the girl makes her first appearance in the final chapter of
Flood!, leading a crowd into open revolt.) As a coming-of-age
story, I wanted to dramatically convey the metamorphoses of a girl
becoming a woman.
Q: From Flood! to The New Yorker to album covers to Blood Song, someone looking at your artwork can see a distinct difference in technique over the years. Do you see this yourself? How do you think your work has changed, and do you think it is a conscious change or something that happens unconsciously?
A: Ten
years ago, my work was almost exclusively black and white. Forms were
jagged and angular, like shards of glass. I imagine this was a
reflection of a lifetime spent in Lower Manhattan, with its stark social
conflicts and crumbling infrastructure forever in my vision. Gradually,
color began to appear in my work. It was during my collaboration with
Allen Ginsberg on our book, Illuminated Poems, that I embraced a full
color palette. The recent forms in my newest compositions have taken on
a decidedly organic shape. Trees and animals now mingle with solid,
hard-edged geometric forms. I have no doubt that this expansive quality
in my latest art has been a result of my "escaping" from New York City.
Q: You were asked to draw the cover for 9/11: Artists Respond, Volume I , a commemorative comic book created in response to the attacks on the World Trade Center. How do you think expressions in art have helped us through that terrible event?
A: When artists continue
to create, to construct new forms, while death and destruction are in
the air, it is a triumph of the imagination. When war, and rumors of
war, are feverishly broadcast into every home, it is the artist's job to
raise his voice and sing a different melody. Art speaks in a universal
language and, especially in times of crisis, it reminds us of our common
humanity.
Q: How does one tell a story without words in "novel" form? Did you find it difficult to not resort to using words to express a feeling you were having trouble expressing in pictures?
A: I use images to tell stories that I couldn't possibly convey in words. I am constantly fascinated with pre-verbal forms of communication. I believe the visual affects us on a different level than the written, and I'm continuing to explore the properties of this ancient language.