2002
As a writer, I've always been challenged by novels.
They are intricate works of word-art, which create new worlds, new universes, that, if done correctly, live in the mind almost indistinguishably from the funk and grit of what we consider real life.
If done correctly, they earn a kind of immortality, as did Richard Wright's Native Son, with its anguished protagonist, Bigger Thomas, whose journey in Twentieth Century America provides depth, pathos, and gravity.
Eric Drooker, known for his political graphics, which have adorned the late Guardian newspaper, rippled through the eclectic World War 3 Illustrated and agitated on countless leaflets and in various alternative tabloids for the liberation of Tompkins Square Park in New York, has inverted the classic challenge of novelists to construct word-art. He has crafted wordless art into a novel, and by so doing, has done something as remarkable as it is beautiful. (Indeed, this is his second such effort).
By going beyond words, he has constructed a powerful novel, with memorable characters, that is instantly accessible to all on the earth who are sighted. An Ainu in Japan, a Zulu in Bulawayo; a Basque in Euskadi (the territories split between Spain and France), a Kurd in Kurdistan (the Border territory split between Iraq and Turkey)--all of them, and all of us, no mater which borders we claim as home, no matter our tongues, can move from panel to panel, from page to page, with pristine clarity, full comprehension and sheer delight, as we "read" Blood Song.
Has Drooker crafted immortal characters ala Richard Wright's Bigger?
Truly, only time will tell.
But, will it be remembered, not in words, but in images?
I think the answer is certain.
For, as great word-novels touch those things that are human universals in us, so too does Blood Song address deep and abiding human themes like loss, terror, struggle, survival and death. Indeed, it addresses complex themes like imperialism, refugees, the metropolis, and jazz! (One wordless art represents another wordless art--from apparent woodcut to bee-bop!)
Well, speaking of "wordless art", are these woodcuts, or freehand drawings of a gifted artist? (Or both?) If these panels are the former, developed by the preparation of negative images cut out of some static medium, (like wood or linoleum, for instance) which are then printed, and embellished by watercolor, they are all the more remarkable for the time and effort expended in their production. If they are the latter, they are silent testament to Drooker's artistic skill.
The eye can only tell us so much.
In fact, Drooker utilizes a form of engraving known as "scratchboard", where a blade cuts into a top level of the board, revealing a white, chalky under layer. The resultant image carved out is then printed onto paper on a Xerox machine. These prints are then embellished with bright, blazing watercolor.
Ultimately, however, art's value lies in the art itself, not in the method of its production. To properly evaluate Blood Song, you must "read" it.
And like all good novels, when you feel the pull to "read" it again, read it again, for you will find new things, new expressions, nuances of form, shape and shadow that escaped your first glance.
Over half a millennium ago, men and women of reddish hues wrote their stories by using beads on belts of wampum, or drew on the inner husks of bark the tales of their clans, their tribes, and their nations. Over six millennia ago, priests and artisans on the Nile banks drew pictographs on bricks to record the deeds and exploits of kings.
Long after
words of this (or any other) language have ceased to have meaning,
should a copy of Blood Song survive, it will tell people a tale, not of
kings, but of common people, who, against monstrous odds, continue to
resist and survive.
Abu-Jamal: I've been seeing your political graphics around for some time now; in your earlier Flood! A Novel in Pictures, of course, as well as in illustrations featured in magazines and newspapers--if memory serves, didn't your work appear in the late, great Guardian (U.S.)?
Drooker: Yes, in fact The Guardian was the first publication
to print my work. I drew political cartoons regularly for this radical
newsweekly through the 1980's--until the paper folded suddenly in 1992.
By this time my artwork was appearing in a wide range of publications;
including The New York Times, The Village Voice, The Nation, The
Progressive, Heavy Metal, and World
War 3 Illustrated. These days my paintings appear on covers of The New
Yorker, and other equally mainstream periodicals, yet my political
graphics continue to be seen on flyers, posters, and in underground
publications worldwide.
In Blood Song, you create a novel that is free of alphabetic texts. What inspired you to tell this story without words?
The moment the novel was conceived, I realized that any text would be
totally unnecessary. Any words would actually get in the way. I chose,
instead, to speak in that most ancient and universal tongue: the
Language of Pictures. The visual hits us on a different level than the
verbal. I've long felt that society places undue emphasis on words, and
regards all other forms of expression as superfluous. Witness the
economic cutbacks in education. What's the first thing to be eliminated
in public schools? ...The Arts.
In Blood Song you show your protagonist, the post-pubescent girl, entering the Metropolis via the sewer-like canals under the city. Is this commentary on the role the City ascribes to its immigrants, or a visual reflection of the subversive role the girl plays vis-a-vis the repressive power structure?
Our young heroine enters the city, after her immense journey at sea.
We know that she is a refugee, and observe her trespassing through
forgotten passageways in the infrastructure. She slips in through
society's back door, so to speak. We follow our protagonist through
subterranean ducts and winding stairways, as she discovers the raw
foundation upon which this modern "civilization" is built.
Who would you say are your most important artistic influences?
The visual artists who influenced me most significantly--whom I
regard as my ancestors are: Francisco Goya, Pieter Breughel, Hokusai,
Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Frans Masereel, Lynd Ward, Dr. Suess, R.
Crumb, Sue Coe, the German Expressionists, the Mexican Muralists, the
American "Ashcan School", and Social Realists of the 1930's.
Would these artistic influences also serve as your political influences?
That's funny, I don't think such an obvious connection has ever
occurred to me before. Beyond the powerful aesthetic impression these
artists made, I was, no doubt, influenced philosophically--and
politically as well. Many of these artists were activists. They engaged
in the political upheavals of their time, and often suffered the
consequences. I continue to be moved by the passion, wit, and uncanny
ability these artists possessed, to open multiple windows onto the human
soul. I suspect that their visions have influenced me--still influence
me--in many unexpected ways. Brilliant technique aside, the content of
such imagery clearly required a deep, deep empathy with the human
condition at large. These "artistic ancestors" helped shape my critical
vision, and enabled me to see the world, and the human form, with an eye
that penetrates... and caresses.
I know that no writer of novels can really anticipate the "ideal reader" of one's work, but who do you wish would be attracted to Blood Song?
This "silent ballad" will offer something to readers who are looking beyond words. It tells a story which, I think, will be immediately visible to all, regardless of age or background. I feel that anyone who is open to a different kind of reading experience--one that speaks directly to the senses, or anyone who is in need of a break from the non-stop babel of the dominant culture, will be rewarded by this little tale.