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Lackadaisy
16 years ago
General
Right now I'm taking my second tumble through Tracey Butler's exquisite contribution to sequential art and historical fiction called Lackadaisy. My first week-long visit rattled the cob webs right out of my head and I've been dying to write about it ever since. This book is the most believable, stylishly engaging and emotionally enrapturing comic that plays its song to the tune of my heart. The amount of individual talent, care and research that has gone into this work is nothing short of phenomenal. After my first fling I have been unable to pick it back up for over a month and a half now. It is the sort of art worth torturing yourself over.
You see, reading comics have never been the same for me since my friend let me borrow Scott McCloud's masterpiece Understanding Comics. When I find something I actually like, I usually can't read it now. I've found that I have to wait until an undefinable but clearly recognizable moment strikes me. When I eventually find the mindset to perceive it for the first time with mental clarity, only then do I feel I can do such a comic the justice it deserves.
As much as I wanted to jump right into this brilliant interpretation of St.Louis at the height of prohibition in 1927, I forced myself to put it off until I began to have obsessive thoughts about reading it. I even started imagining what it might have been like to live back then in my spare time. It is right around the time I experience that type of mania that I know its time to wait at least twice as long as I already have.
I've found that the best time for a good comic is right after life throws you heart wrenching failure of some kind like losing your job and you've been wallowing in the quagmire of your own delusional short comings when suddenly you notice something deceivingly simple but undeniably uplifting about life. Such as waking up to the sights and sounds of two chipmunks wrestling over acorns inches from your head just outside your bedroom window.
Once I pass that step I finally go starve myself all morning, pace about contemplating the mental phenomenon of happiness, drink some coffee and then muster up the courage to actually pick up the comic and feel it in my hands. I find that it is also entirely important at this stage to actually give the thing a good sniff or two. Inhale the subtle fumes of the ink and caress the gloss of its pages and feel that it is a thing that has the weight of significance that only patience can give.
Next I spend inordinate spans of time sewing each picture through my heart while my mind dances with every word it can in the short span of life's little sunbeams. If one day I suddenly find myself singing goofy lyrics to a song that surprises me to remain unforgotten then I feel that I am ready to read the next few pages.
From the unique point of view I attain by working the majority of my time away for minimum wage and the maintenance of a small childless family while also trying to make time for an appreciation for nature and art I have found that daily living as an average adult in this society demands quite a bit of one's time. We all know that time is a valuable quantity, unfortunately it will always seem much more important than anyone will ever be willing to pay you for. However this comic is so enjoyable and enlightening that it feels as though I am the one being paid to read it. Not in dollars of course but the moments it has given me are nearly priceless.
It seems that Ms. Butler is the type of woman who writes a comic that doesn't tell us how to savor our time, she has shown us something that makes us want to. With eloquent words and elegant pictures that reward the meticulous observer I have seen that American history doesn't have to be something that puts you to sleep at night. I have seen that it can actually inspire the most jaded mind to want to learn anew. With a story so unique and unforgettable and characters that are so alive they jump right off the page and into your life: its the sort of story that could fill even an undesirable arm chair philosopher with hope. It inspires me with a fledgling artist's first aspirations of a sustainable and respectable path of inspiration.
You see, reading comics have never been the same for me since my friend let me borrow Scott McCloud's masterpiece Understanding Comics. When I find something I actually like, I usually can't read it now. I've found that I have to wait until an undefinable but clearly recognizable moment strikes me. When I eventually find the mindset to perceive it for the first time with mental clarity, only then do I feel I can do such a comic the justice it deserves.
As much as I wanted to jump right into this brilliant interpretation of St.Louis at the height of prohibition in 1927, I forced myself to put it off until I began to have obsessive thoughts about reading it. I even started imagining what it might have been like to live back then in my spare time. It is right around the time I experience that type of mania that I know its time to wait at least twice as long as I already have.
I've found that the best time for a good comic is right after life throws you heart wrenching failure of some kind like losing your job and you've been wallowing in the quagmire of your own delusional short comings when suddenly you notice something deceivingly simple but undeniably uplifting about life. Such as waking up to the sights and sounds of two chipmunks wrestling over acorns inches from your head just outside your bedroom window.
Once I pass that step I finally go starve myself all morning, pace about contemplating the mental phenomenon of happiness, drink some coffee and then muster up the courage to actually pick up the comic and feel it in my hands. I find that it is also entirely important at this stage to actually give the thing a good sniff or two. Inhale the subtle fumes of the ink and caress the gloss of its pages and feel that it is a thing that has the weight of significance that only patience can give.
Next I spend inordinate spans of time sewing each picture through my heart while my mind dances with every word it can in the short span of life's little sunbeams. If one day I suddenly find myself singing goofy lyrics to a song that surprises me to remain unforgotten then I feel that I am ready to read the next few pages.
From the unique point of view I attain by working the majority of my time away for minimum wage and the maintenance of a small childless family while also trying to make time for an appreciation for nature and art I have found that daily living as an average adult in this society demands quite a bit of one's time. We all know that time is a valuable quantity, unfortunately it will always seem much more important than anyone will ever be willing to pay you for. However this comic is so enjoyable and enlightening that it feels as though I am the one being paid to read it. Not in dollars of course but the moments it has given me are nearly priceless.
It seems that Ms. Butler is the type of woman who writes a comic that doesn't tell us how to savor our time, she has shown us something that makes us want to. With eloquent words and elegant pictures that reward the meticulous observer I have seen that American history doesn't have to be something that puts you to sleep at night. I have seen that it can actually inspire the most jaded mind to want to learn anew. With a story so unique and unforgettable and characters that are so alive they jump right off the page and into your life: its the sort of story that could fill even an undesirable arm chair philosopher with hope. It inspires me with a fledgling artist's first aspirations of a sustainable and respectable path of inspiration.
