Blaise Larmee Horrorcore

The thing that is keeping me up late at night on Blaise Larmee comics is that there is something liberating there in how those comics feel to be read—but it is so damn fragile, that trying to pick it up to look at it, and put it next to your favorite Sergio Toppi, Crepax comics—breaks it.

But there’s something in it that I need to learn, because there’s some sort of riddle to the way it works that could break this knot of influences I’m accumulating and allow my comics to be what they need to be.  The strength in something like Hecate Snake Diaries—is in that intangible thing that is I think in all of my work—but that I’m not yet in touch with yet fully.

I’ve said it twice this week—but my twitter timeline has become at times the realest art experience I’ve had in awhile.  There’s a playlist of twitter profiles that I have queued up everyday—that I read in a particular sequence—and it’s a game changer everyday.  There’s something in that and Blaise Larmee comics that means something to me—that is anti-abstract—that is pure and gut punching.

Right now it’s this two minds thing, where there’s the way I want to make comics and then there’s the kind of comics I want to make—and those two things aren’t yet in concert.

When I read Young Lions on my kindle, the page won’t take up the full screen, or enlarge—so it sits off center and to the left—when I read it I’m also thinking about Al Columbia and Pim and Francie—and how the the rhythms of these two books are so similar—and then I’m thinking about how porn comics work.  This is the brain soup I want to pull my work out of/through—the way all of these things work, is for me the truest way to tell my stories, which are predominantly horror stories.  Actually check that.  All of my comics are horror stories.  Horror is the only reaction that can adequately explain my relation and perspective through the world.  So those are the stories I want to tell.  But to tell them properly I have to evolve my own tongue and my own language.  Otherwise what is the point?  All great horror is beholden to none that came before.  Cries and Whispers is a horror film, Nightmare on Elm Street remake is not.  This isn’t derogatory.  It’s not even true.

But there’s the moment at the end of cries and whispers where after everything that is happened—we are treated to this idyllic scene of these three women swinging on a swing together, laughing—the camera zooms in on one of the women who is doing a voice over about how happy this moment is and how perfect it is—and it is terrifying.  I’ve seen the movie so many times, but that scene still made me curl up inside when I watched it.

The point is, do you think Bergman approached that as anything but his own?

My thinking on storytelling is still too compartmentalized.  See also Alphaville.

So maybe that’s what some of what I get from reading a Blaise comic is that notion that my thinking is still bound.

This is how I’m going to start writing about comics.

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