JACK BANKS
BERNI WRIGHTSON
Yes, I was a junior high comics geek; but I was a very specific kind: DC. I looked down on Marvel readers. The creators of their “universe,” admittedly, had made quite an effort to create an internally consistent narrative; but so what; I wasn’t particularly interested in some kind of Tolkien-like 9000 year history of creation. The comics world would bring me into contact with Dungeons and Dragons types and Uber-in-the-know collectors (“He had a “Conan the Barbarian” #4 and sold it for only $6; It’s worth at least $9!!!). I was so embarrassed to be in any way associated with them. But still I loved comics even if I wasn’t exactly like all of those supposed objectionables.
I guess I preferred the DC world at an early age because I had first noticed that some comics were distinctly better than others while reading DC’s product. I vividly remember reading Batman #244 at age 9 and thinking that master villain Ra’s al Ghul’s exotically “hot” daughter Talia’s romantic advances toward Batman seemed qualitatively different than the goings on in other Comics. (think “Archie," for instance!) But what got me most excited was a comic that DC debuted in 1972 titled “Swamp Thing.” I picked up my first copy at a news stand in the Toronto airport as my Mom, brother and I waited for my Dad’s plane to arrive from Albany, NY. The same things that would make me such a devoted fan of “Kolchak the Nightstalker” the following year were also in evidence here. There were lots of gothic atmospherics: Carpathian/Balkan Frankenstein torch and pitchfork crowds, werewolves on Scottish moors, confederate Civil War ghosts, to mention just a few. The story of the main character and his isolation had a very dark quality that I found very unique as well. But most of all, I loved the artwork by the young artist assigned to work on the first 10 issues, Berni Wrightson.
Batman #244; Denny O'Neil, writer and Neal Adams, artist.
Swamp Thing #3
Swamp Thing #1
Wrightson’s career at DC was short lived. He reportedly had great difficulty meeting deadlines - not surprising given the quality of his work. Nevertheless, he managed to gain considerable notoriety, so much so that he could later come to enjoy some significant independent success. Once I was well into high school “Swamp Thing” was no longer what interested me most about his work. I had become more enamored of his multi-year ambitious project to illustrate Shelley’s “Frankenstein.”
Perhaps it had been the quality of his work here that had so much drawn me to black and white. Significant to note - his illustrations were all ink DRAWINGS, done in the style of woodblock prints. Christopher Zavisa, Wrightson’s one time publisher compared this kind of faux woodblock style to the unique drawing style of Franklin Booth. Booth’s own drawings were a kind of creative re-imagining of a 19th century print style. Rather than the product of a mechanistic process, they were done by hand. I would go through a much less sophisticated version of this process myself as I later figured out how to shade my drawings with faux, hand drawn Zip-a-tone.
Zavisa published a huge book on Wrightson in 1981 titled “A Look Back.” I remember deciding to spend the better part of my summer’s wages to buy this - a huge deal at the time. I discovered inside it a small story titled “The Muck Monster.” I still remember the huge impression it made on me. It was a novel combination of both the Frankenstein and Swamp Thing stories; but it wasn’t a typical “comic,” with lots of plot and action. It seemed more a lyrical treatment of the material. What power it had relied more on atmosphere and a kind of pop metaphysics. One page in particular was something I suspect influenced how I decided to lay out pages 9-10 here. I can not remember consciously stealing the idea; but if one compares the grating frames, one can see some obvious influence.
Franklin Booth 1874-1948
Franklin Booth 1874-1948
Frame from Berni Wrightson's "The Muck Monster"
Frame from page 10 of "The Mind Which Creates the Man Who Suffers"
From Berni Wrightson I got my first childhood glimpses of what “good” comics might be. I later got the idea that black and white might have a special kind of power. I also first became aware that artists might choose to do things the long way - drawing by hand in a superior way what might otherwise be accomplished by short cuts used in print technology. I was impressed by the power that a story with minimal action and no spoken word might have. Finally, Wrightson’s work on “Frankenstein” had made me rethink the relationship between the “created” and the “creator.”
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