ANOTHER year on (our) comics circuit has pretty much come and gone with the passing of the first ever Comic Arts Brooklyn. We slipped and called it BCGF what had to be ten hundred times over the weekend. That’s not surprising to anyone, and that’s also a good thing. As Brooklynites, we need this show. BCGF made the most of the comics and art community here in our little borough, and it just reeked of Brooklyn. CAB steps right into that vacated slot, bringing that Brooklyntricity, filling the room with what Tom Spurgeon, Comics Reporter, once called the products of the Brooklyn Cliché Factory. Or, to put it in industry terms, Secret Acres’ core audience.
It didn’t have the same wall to wall crush of BCGF. CAB’s got its own energy, but like every year around this time, we moved a ton of books at the Mt. Carmel Church. It’s possible we broke last year’s single day sales record. That’s pretty impressive seeing that we had no debuts and no events of our own tied to CAB (though we did get 2012 back in print). With no natural disaster to excuse us this time around, we once again failed to bring enough books to meet demand and had to re-up in the middle of the show. This is a lousy habit of ours. However, we almost managed to get set up before the doors opened, so that’s progress. Comic Arts Brooklyn, the show, had it together far better than we did. Organizationally, this seemed smoother than its predecessor, somehow. Maybe things were scaled back a little bit, event and programming wise? In any case, there seemed to be a great, almost corporately smooth, synergy between the show and gallery things like this and the stuff at the Society of Illustrators and the Spiegelman exhibit. Whatever, because it worked. CAB is an event, not a flea market.
One fascinating thing about the shows in this church, and the shows run by Mr. Gabe “Desert Island” Fowler, is that it’s debut schmebut for Secret Acres. Yeah, our latest, Iron Bound, led the way because people want the new stuff, but they want it all. And they want it now. It’s one of the few places on earth where the customers are so plugged in, they come and ask us if we distro minis we’ve never even heard of, or when the new Rust Belt is coming out because they picked up the first two last year and loved ’em. It’s freakish. Another big carryover from the ghost of shows past is that cartoonists can’t keep their mouths shut. If you want proof that comics aren’t just for people who can’t get laid anymore, come to Brooklyn. No worries, ’cause we don’t kiss and tell. We’re gentlemen. Casey, however…
This wee Acre found herself at a bar in Bushwick (because, duh) on Friday night in excellent company. Not only did I get to hang for a sec with some dude who kept calling me “dawg,” but I also got some face time with Mack of Spaceface Books, resisting the urge to run my fingers through his hair. On the people-whose-skin-I-will-
Saturday dawned pretty damn cold, and Ryan Cecil Smith and I managed to blunder into an AA meeting on the other side of the church on our way to the show. We muttered “comics” over and over until someone pointed us in the right direction. CAB started nice and quiet, a babefest as usual. I didn’t make it to any panels because ha ha ha, but I did get to hug Annie Koyama and Leigh Walton across the table. I got a “How to Pronounce Nick Drnaso‘s Last Name” lesson from Chuck Forsman and shared some grrl talk with Lala Alberts. It’s a long show and I would have died of exhaustion but for a well-placed boston cream donut, shared with Victor Kerlow. Also I bought some comic books. The day passed; the basement slowly transformed into a festering swamp. Typical comix fest.
After a lil post-show Polish food with new pal Sophie Yanow & co., and I was off to Union Pool to check out the after party. I’m used to the sweaty, smoky, brawl-y, BCGF after parties at Cartoon House (RIP), and I wasn’t sure what to expect from Union Pool. Well, there were Culkins and tacos and pap pap folk music and more! I chatted with Jeremy Sorese about our dads’ weird eating habits, made Bert n’ Ernie jokes with Cleveland QT Kevin Czap, and met a few ladies I’m a big nerd fan of, Cathy G. Johnson and Mia Schwartz. Megacrush Simon Hanselmann made an appearance in the Pool’s backyard. I sidled up to him, and in a moment of perfect wabi sabi he said “I could really use a cigarette,” while taking a giant drag on his cigarette. I ended my night on the early side like the sad old hag I am, but not before getting weepy over Melissa Mendes‘ Bruce the Cat tattoo and spotting Joe Lambert through the crowd, elusive as the famed Bigfoot.
Thank you, Casey! Speaking of which, more than a few people tried to get us going with our thoughts on the (by now fully funded) Fantagraphics Kickstarter campaign. We’ve written enough about Kickstarter already here. We’ve thrown in for more than a few of them. We’ll never, ever, have a Kickstarter campaign. We don’t see a need to blather about this any further. We don’t like that Fanta’s on Kickstarter, for most of the reasons that the aforementioned Spurgeon details here. It ain’t about Kickstarter itself (even though, really and truly, this seems a lot like raising business capital on Kickstarter, which, as we understand it, is somehow against the rules – and feel free to explain to us if it is not against the rules). From where we’re sitting, Fantagraphics is the greatest and most important publisher in the history of comics. Whatever the reason for it, crowd funding Fanta makes us very nervous about the state of comics publishing and it makes for another round of talking about what publishers do. We’ve said enough about that to last us a while, too. Also, stop making fun of Dan Nadel already. It’s old.
As for Secret Acres, the publishing company, we had our first down year in a while. This wasn’t because of the books, but more because of the lack of them. Way back in 2010, we had a crappy year and we wrote about it and it got a huge response from you guys. We sort of replayed that a bit in 2013. Secret Acres was never on the ropes in 2013 the way it was back then, but when our books are late and we show up without them, we’re screwed. Just like 2010, we were strapped for cash, relying on our back list and freaking out about money for reprinting books. It sounds dumb, and it is (and it also kind of sounds like the reasoning for the Fanta Kickstarter, doesn’t it?), but one thing we really need to do as publishers is publish books.
So, in 2014, we will be publishing a bunch of books. Starting with what we owe you, there’s Theo Ellsworth‘s second installment of the Understanding Monster. That damned monster will be further understood this coming year, we swear. Don’t be too mad at us, or Theo, though. He did crank out three mini–comics and Capacity 8 in the meantime. Gabby Schulz (don’t call him Ken Dahl no more) is wrapping up Sick as we type this and we promise it is so friggin’ great, you’ll forgive the rest of his bullshit.
For the first time in our storied history, Secret Acres will be publishing a straight up in your dome art book, or livre d’art. You’ve probably heard of Edie Fake‘s outstanding art exhibition Memory Palaces. It’s a trip (in both senses) through Chicago’s real and imaginary places in its queer past and future, and everyone will be able to take it home.
Mike Dawson will be following up Troop 142 with a big, fat book, Angie Bongiolatti. It was originally entitled Anna Bongiovanni, but trademarks. It’s not for kids. It is a painstakingly researched book that features explicit dongs, cooters and hooters with healthy helpings of sociopolitical commentary and philosophy. Among the many shockers in this book is the fact that it takes place in the Mike Dawson universe, or least the Mike Dawson Tri-State Area. Yep. You guys who remember the kids in Troop 142 are in for a treat.
Finally, at long, long last, we’re pleased as punch to tell you that Corinne Mucha, whose comics we’ve loved and whose minis we have carried, will actually be published by Secret Acres. It’s kinda creepy how long we have waited and lurked for this moment, like Corinne just agreed to date her stalker. If you’re lucky enough to have read her (completely shameless) mini-comic, My Every Single Thought, you’ve gotten a taste for her deep, dark knowledge of heartbreak. Ms. Mucha will going over every last piece of her busted ticker for Get Over It, her new graphic novel. From us. How ya like them apples?
There will be even more to come, but the ink’s not dry on all the contracts just yet. Meantime, you can see Sean Ford and Theo Ellsworth on their return trip to Short Run Seattle. Sean might be back here to give us the lowdown on Short Run. Or he might not. Who knows these things? Anyhow, we’re not going anywhere. Except, you know, for a while, so we can do the winter hibernation thing and clean up this website a bit and get everything off to the printers and work on MoCCA 2.1 and maybe take a vacation or something. Meanwhile, you can play mix and match with all the sneak peek pictures and the news here. See you guys next year – at the LA Zine Fest!
Barry and Casey and Leon
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