Navigating page layouts = defining "comics"?

One of the topics I debated closing out my new essay on page layout (pdf) with was its relationship to McCloud's definition of "comics."

As most know, McCloud's definition is that "comics" are "juxtaposed sequential images in deliberate sequence." Yet, he never places any constraints on that. He means all sequential images are "comics" — regardless of the characteristics of content.

On the one hand, you can say that his notion of closure demands that there is some content to those panels, and that closure is the underlying force behind his definition. However, there are places where this appeal to content is a bit slim. This is most apparent in his panel transitions, where "non-sequitur" as a catch-all for anything his other transitions don't cover. Or, in claiming that empty panels that represent "time" still maintain the essence of "comics." In other words, it doesn't matter what's in them, as long as they're in sequence.

If really all McCloud means by "comics" is that two graphic units are place next to each other, is he really just talking about the system I've proposed for layouts? This system just tells people how to navigate through a comic page — how to read from one panel to another. And, since my experiment used blank comic pages, it has nothing to do with content — just like McCloud's definition.

So, if navigation between panels is really all he's talking about for "comics," isn't that a little... I don't know... unremarkable?

It's also interesting in this interpretation, since (as I note in the paper) McCloud's notion of the Infinite Canvas essentially desires to simplify this navigational structure. Food for thought...

VizThink 08

I've spent the last several days out here in San Francisco at the VizThink Conference where I gave a talk about visual language. There have been a lot of interesting presentations, some more amenable to my thinking than others.

It's also been a great pleasure to hang out with Scott McCloud here, who seems to be the other "comics" guy. I don't think I've spend this much time with him since I kept his girls occupied by teaching them how to make paper airplanes so he could sign books about 8 years ago at ComicCon.

I've been struck in particular about two things about Scott. First, he really knows about the very disparate facets of the comics industry and culture. And second, he's an unbelievably adept spatial thinker who deploys the processes very eloquently. Even in casual conversation he does a great job of organizing ideas and conversation topics into spatial configurations (usually gesturally). It's been fun to see.

There have been a lot of interesting ideas floating around here, and one in particular that I've been thinking about doing some video podcasts of my theories to further balance out the papers on my site. Anybody have thoughts on that?

Problems with Transitions

Over at Derik's blog he's been examining McCloud's panel transitions based on influence from film theory (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 ...more to come).

While Derik only does it a little bit, the application of film theory to panel transitions isn't altogether new. John Barber essentially grafted McCloud's and my own (old model of) transitions onto Eisenstein's thesis/antithesis/synthesis model in his masters thesis. This was then argued against by Ben Woo in his thesis, dismissing it more because modern film theory does than any explicit argument against Barber's thesis. I'm not up on my modern film theory that much, but I believe Eisenstein is fairly passé at this point anyhow.

A few months ago I started noticing how similar Eisenstein's montage was to the cognitive linguistics notion of "Blending." Blending takes two concepts and extracts parts from them to create a new entailment. A classic example is "The surgeon was a butcher" — both surgeons and butchers are skilled at cutting flesh/meat, yet when combined together they illicit a meaning that the surgeon was sloppy. This is just like the 1+1=3 idea from montage.

And it certainly does appear across panels. I had a whole section on blending in my paper A Force of Change. Though, I think that the structures governing sequential understanding (i.e. syntax and semantics) are different from this.

Really, Eisenstein's montage and McCloud's closure are kind of like the film/comics equivalent of ether; a magical "mental" substance that doesn't really exist that glosses over any real substance the mind might actualy be contributing. They're like pop-science: a simple easy explanation for a very complex phenomenon. Just like Freud and Jung are still thought of by laypeople as being what psychology is about, their theories are far left behind to modern thinking. In fact, I'd venture to say they're more used by humanities/social sciences these days than psychology or cognitive science.

Of course, I've been railing on the panel transition approach for quite a while now, over the course of several alternative models. And, it's not just the idea of transitions that has problems: it's any approach that only takes into account panels that are immediately adjacent to each other. Any linear approach to the idea of creating meaning in sequential images will ultimately fail.

As I mentioned on one of Derik's posts, the major shift comes in what one is looking at. Instead of looking at panels' immediate surroundings and basing the system around those juxtapositions, we can instead acknowledge that whole sequences mean things (events/actions/situations/ideas). From there, it becomes a matter of identifying what functions different panels play in creating that overall meaning. Just because we read and write panels linearly doesn't mean that's how we understand them.

Nevertheless, it's interesting to watch Derik go through steps in his thinking in relation to what I did. He named it "rethinking transitions" so it'll be fun to see what his rethinking leads to.

Updated 12/1 with additional links to further entries

Making Comics by Scott McCloud

For those who have been living in a cave the past summer, Making Comics is Scott McCloud's latest offering; a how-to book on the process of comic creation. I've had my copy for about a week, but wanting to give it a good thorough read-through before commenting (as well as juggling it with reading about statistics and developmental psychology), I'm only now finally posting some thoughts on it.

Perhaps returning to familiar ground is a good place to start. Not infrequently I've noticed, I have been wrongly anonymously-quoted as saying that Understanding Comics was a how-to book, and I think MC helps make a clearer distinction. UC is a book of theory, but like the start of any good field's theories (which it is, both good and a starting point) it begins with what is most accessible to people's intuitions. From this, you can go in two directions: theory and practice.

Take for instance nouns and verbs. One can use nouns and verbs to better understand how to be a good writer (like in English class), or you can use them to analyze the deeper structures of how language works (like in linguistics). Comparable is the idea of panel transitions. In UC, McCloud took a very theoretical approach to dissecting and analyzing them, while in MC he (kinda) uses them as a tool for praxis. Both are valid ways of using that theory.

And from the basis of UC these two paths should now be clearer. With MC, McCloud has gone the route of English class, essentially becoming a "visual language instructor." I've primarily gone the linguistics route, diving into theoretical waters and ultimately critiquing the initial theories that McCloud set the tone with (though, while maybe not always as immediately recognizable as McCloud's, even my theories have a practical application too).

As always, as an author McCloud is a treat to read. His drawings looked fantastic and polished, yet, part of me wished he returned to the greys he used in Reinventing Comics, which gave nicer tone difference to the black of the line art and would have been softer on the eyes than his faux-screentones.

The footnoting of every referenced image on every page was tedious and annoying (and better served by the then redundant end section). It made things seem awfully cluttered at times. I liked that he had endnotes and drawing activities, though I would have preferred the activities to be drawn (or have "worksheet style pages" rather than just a listing in text).

Though well executed, Chapters 1 and 2 I felt were a little long because of how dense they were. Each had many subsections (and subsections of subsections), and it would have benefited from broader "book sections" for each, then subdivided into chapters per sub-topic. This might have allowed McCloud to breathe a little more for each one and really go further in depth. Despite the great probing he does, you can tell he's just scratching the surface of his thinking.

I loved his "Choice of moment" discussion of events carried out by panels, represented by connecting the dots of an overarching event. Particularly interesting was how he seemed to equate different parts of the visual sequence explicitly to different words. It reminded me at least a little of how linguistic semantics uses one language to describe the meanings of another (the idea being that if something can be said in one, its equivalent can be found in the other, implying all the while that the two are equal in expressive power). It was very interesting to see how he changed his description of the sequence with each change in panels.

What was also particularly intriguing about this discussion was that it betrayed an internal conflict within McCloud's approach to sequential meaning. While McCloud does include his taxonomy of panel transitions from UC in MC, he uses them sparingly in scattered amounts throughout. Now, I've been a critic of transitions and closure (which surprisingly hardly appears at all in MC), but a simple difference in my theoretical approach to McCloud's is just one of scope. While transitions simply relate one panel to another, a broader look at sequences admits that they form a holistic sequence.

Unlike his panel transitions, this "dots" depiction implies this same sentiment of mine that a sequence composes a contiguous whole event based around an intended expressive idea. Things like his lengthy (and excellent) discussion of "establishing shots" actually damage the idea of transitions, as they also rely on a functional relation to the whole sequence, and would have trouble being placed in a transitional approach (especially when the establishing shot itself is broken up into several panels).

Another theme of the book (and talking to him in person) is how self-deprecating McCloud is about his own work. He consistently expresses that his own work isn't quite good enough, and that is why he's writing a how-to book: to teach himself. As I told him in person, I think this is pure baloney.

In the words of his own "Four Tribes." analysis, I feel that McCloud isn't fessing up to his own Formalist identity, and critiquing his own work from the perspective of an Animist or Classicist. Part of the benefit of this theory is in understanding the inherent subjectivity of how one perspective views another.

He interestingly footnotes that much of his instruction in the books is teaching how to be an Animist, and in reflection seems to be what McCloud wishes he was more of. In some ways I feel that this is a case of "outside type envy," believing that you should be that which you're not because the other might thereby seem better (and might be more prevalent and thus louder in expressing their distaste at things). On the one hand, it's good to respond to criticism and grow as a creator beyond where you already are. On the other, it's good to embrace what's good about yourself for who you are (and for McCloud, there's lots), and it's quite alright to tell people to fuck off and enjoy their own camp without being so prejudicial to that which is different from their preferences.

That said, I should say that any of my gripes about the theoretical underpinnings of the book are tangential to the practical aspects for which the book was intended. In fact, I was a bit surprised there wasn't more theory in it, given that many theoretical observations that have been in his live talks of late didn't make it into the book.

For what the book purports to do though – instruction – it excels at. While I was able to scrape together what I feel was pretty good tools for learning when I was younger, this is certainly a book I would have loved to have when I was first starting out as a comic author.

This also taps into the concerns some reviewers have expressed regarding the book's audience. It certainly doesn't seem to be for people who can't draw at all, but rather for those who already have at least a base understanding and ability. It isn't a "foreign language class" that teaches you from ground up.

Rather, it’s a "(visual) language arts" class that teaches you to hone the intuitions you already have. McCloud strives to take what you have and make you better. He certainly lives up to his side of this equation, and hopefully the rest of us readers can live up to ours.

Other reviews I found interesting:

TCJ Forum
Fleen
Stephen Frug

McCloud at MIT

Well, it seems that nothing brings together comics-folk like a good long Scott McCloud lecture. Scott gave his lecture at MIT tonight to a packed house to promote his latest book Making Comics (which I just finished reading... review coming soon).

We got there fairly early, so I actually got a nice long chat in with him before things got too crazy. It's been awhile since I've gotten the opportunity to chat with Scott, so I was greatful for the chance. As I intimated, lots of comics folk turned out, and several of us went out to dinner afterwards...



Present were the "Comixpedia quartet" (upper left) of Bryant Paul Johnson, Me, Alexander Danner, and Kelly Cooper, along with the ever-entertaining duo of Jeph Jacques and his girlfriend Cristi. Along the bottom are some friends of Kelly's and one lucky comic fan who we adopted for the evening. (Hmmm...there's something kinda fun about being able to link nearly everyone you had dinner with).

The evening was quite fun and reminded me of college when I used to get together with a bunch of people in the Bay Area comics scene. Hopefully we'll have similar gatherings in times to come.

** Bonus linguistics observation of the talk: McCloud made a great noun to verb conversion with "breadcrumbing" (i.e. making a path for people to follow). **

"Comics" is not a medium, nor a mode of expression

Academic Henry Jenkins has a couple outtakes from his book where he discuses "comics" as being a mode of expression rather than a medium, working off the McCloudian definition of "comics" as being equal to "sequential images with/without text."

Though I frequently hear statements of faith in McCloud's definition and the propagation of it. However, I have still not received any good argumentation for why "comics" equals "sequential images with/without text." Frankly, this hasn’t surprised me, since I don’t think its possible to reasonably make such a claim.

Most people, I assume, are arguing this definition by following McCloud’s lead. However, at least in Understanding Comics, McCloud never provides an argument for his definition of "comics" either. Rather, he takes Eisner’s abstract notion of "sequential art" and then (as Horrock's first noted) recasts it as the definition for "comics." The reasoning for this follows no explicit argument, reasoning, or logic, McCloud does this solely out of preference stating,

"At one time or another, virtually all great media have received critical examination in and of themselves. But for comics this attention has been rare. Let’s see if we can rectify the situation. Eisner’s term seems like a good place to start."

And from here he begins to construct his definition around the base of "sequential art."

But, notice that from the very beginning he assumes that "comics" are a "media" to begin with, on part with "written word, music, video, theatre, visual art, and film." When separating "form from content" he assumes that "comics" are the form, not content. He begins the discussion with his position already loaded to believe that "comics" are a mode of expression, not simply an object that uses a mode of expression. He doesn’t say that sequential art is the medium that goes into the object of "comics," he makes them into the same thing.

There is no argument here for why "comics" should equal "sequential images," it is just a definition that is constructed out of the already stated assumptions that "comics" is some kind of medium.

This all has also got me wondering when "comics" as abstract notion first started emerging. Is it attributable solely to McCloud? This would be the usage of "comics," a plural, as a singular. Suddenly, instead of just being a type of book, it is able to be a medium or mode of expression (or even a type of scholarship – with far reaching implications here).

For instance, people talk as if "comics" was some sort of overarching category that subsumes manga, graphic novels, comic strips, bande desinee, etc. — "oh, they’re all just 'comics.'" Contrast this with "graphic novel." We don’t project "graphic novel" as an abstract; it’s a thing – a type of book.

If you reject the abstract formalist view in favor of "comics" only as a social object, these labels become more distinct in their own right. Graphic novels aren’t just a "type of comic," they are a format and literary movement distinct from comics. The same goes for manga, though it has even more slippery issues signifying both native Japanese works as well as a burgeoning OEL community.

The interesting thing I find in Jenkins' writing is that he heavily focuses on the associated social context of comics, while conversely saying they are a "mode of expression" that cuts beyond cultural context.

Again, to call "comics" a mode of expression misses the point. The mode of expression is drawing "sequential images with/without text" (aka "visual language" combined with "written language"). It is this mode of expression that is used within comics... and graphic novels and manga, etc. Though if you think you can prove otherwise, I'd love to hear the argument for why.

Personality Tribing?

In several of his latest interviews, talks, and, I assume, upcoming book, Scott has talked about his "Four Tribes" theory that roughly describes different groupings of creative enterprise. His chart looks roughly like this:



Classicists are concerned with beautiful craftsmanship, Animists with the craft of the story. Formalists dissect the medium itself, and Iconoclasts rebel against the status quo in search of authenticity of message. I’m sure discussions of this will be all the rage soon enough, especially once Scott’s new book comes out, so I thought I’d add some thoughts.

When I was in college, a girlfriend of mine sucked me into her obsession with personality profiling (usually Keirsey or Myers-Briggs test), where individuals are measured by variations on four fields to create a "type." For instance, Introversion (I) and Extroversion (E) lie on opposite ends of one type’s continuum. People’s behavior usually falls somewhere in the middle of these gradations. When all four of these gradations are mapped, it becomes a "type."

At the surface, both Personality Profiling and the Four Tribes serve a similar fascination of "oh oh, I'm mainly this type!" It also gives light on how one type might view another (Classicists no doubt view other types as less graphically achieved, Iconoclasts view Classicists as surface and no substance). But, a little deeper, I think that Scott’s individual tribes also have some parity to aspects of the personality variables (at least, from a "creator" point-of-view).

Along the horizontals run the two variables of "Sensing"(S) versus "Intuitive" (N) cursorily glossed as whether someone experiences and understands the world more through their body/activity versus mind/thought. The top two (Classicists to Animists) reflect Sensing traits – those that are oriented towards some kind of activity – craftsmanship of drawing or writing. The bottom two (Formalist to Iconoclast) more reflect Intuitive traits – more mind oriented and "intellectual."

The verticals also have another kind of variable, "Thinking" (T) versus "Feeling" (F), kind of the distinction between logical reasoning and gut instinct. Up and down the first column (Classicist to Formalist) would be Thinking, because they examine technical precision, either for craft (Classicist) or for the medium itself (Formalist). The second column (Animist to Iconoclast) has more Feeling traits – motivated by gut feelings for a story (Animist) or idea (Iconoclast).

Crossing these variables then gets you different combinations of traits, which I’ll leave up to the reader’s discretion to probe. Now, I wouldn’t necessarily think that creator’s personalities would identically align with the traits that they map to on the Tribes chart, but I wouldn’t think it outlandish either.

Incidentally, to those who care, in profiling I’m generally an ENFJ, and while most wouldn’t be surprised to hear I’m a Formalist, my roots/instincts are actually as an Animist (with a slight sidetrack in college as an Iconoclast). So, not a perfect alignment, but also not surprising that different traits of mine would dip into different squares.

[Edit 9/7]: I found this nice extended analysis of McCloud's "Four Tribes" theory. I hadn't realized that McCloud based his theory on the Jungian types to begin with, but perhaps that's one of many things I'll find once the book actually arrives at my doorstep.

Iconic Bias, Part 1.5

Here's another subtle example of this Iconic Bias that I discussed in my earlier post. From a recent new interview with Scott McCloud, the interviewer asked:

"What’s hard for you to draw?"

Can you see the subtle bias here? Give it some thought…

It assumes that the capacity for drawing is about "drawing things in the world" — and drawing them as their supposed to look — as opposed to drawing being a capacity for expressing concepts, which just happen to look like things out "in the world." Let me rephrase the question: "What [things out there in the world are] hard for you to draw?"

In contrast to a Language approach, imagine asking someone, "What words are hard for you to pronounce?" Scott's answer is also illustrative, because it invokes the need for reference photos, tied to that same perspective (if its not in the mind, I need to reference "out there in the world").

Snark I can't hold back: Why is this question even there? I mean, really, this is Scott McCloud, the guy who ushered in deep thinking about comics. You really want to waste a question asking him what he doesn't draw well? Puh-lease.

OK, I swear, next post on this I'll get into some of the results of this Iconic Bias.

San Diego, coming soon!!

Thanks go to Scott McCloud for kindly linking to my latest Comixpedia article on "visual rhyming." He suggests "Eye Rhymes" as another good term, and I agree, it does sound pretty cool.

He also notes that he'll be speaking at the San Diego ComicCon on Friday from 12-1pm. I know I'll be there, and so should you: Scott gives great talks. And immediately after Scott's presentation, you should walk over and see me talk at 1:15 to 2:30 on the Visual Language panel of the Comic Arts Conference!

This year's panel should be fantastic. I can't wait, because my talk will be the best presentation I've ever done. I don't want to overhype it, but I've been working really hard on it and it should be great. Called "The Secret of Sequence," I will finally be unveiling most of the my model of Visual Language Grammar, so, if you're curious at all about "how sequential images create meaning," then you won't want to miss it.

The panel will also have two other talks about theory related things as well. I'll post more about them, and the location, as the date nears.

Kinder Reflections on Understanding Comics

So, in my “Problems with Closure” posts (parts 1, 2, 3, 4), I was in my "bloodthirsty academic" mode. I aught to add that Understanding Comics should be commended for "closure" in some ways too.

Though it does provide explanations for the way things work, in many ways, the most important contribution of UC is the questions it raises. More than anything, McCloud excellently points out that we should be thinking about certain things. Why is it that we can understand sequences of images? Do we have receptive differences when engaging cartoony versus realistic drawings? Not many people were thinking about these issues at that time (including the Europeans, though they might claim otherwise).

Quite astutely, McCloud does acknowledge that the understanding for most of these things happens in the mind, though he doesn’t fully probe what that means. More than anything, he’s raising the questions and pointing to a place for the answer.

Rather than my harsh critique calling Closure essentially a rhetorical trick of a faux cognitive process, instead, it might be considered a placeholder for a more developed theory. Yes, McCloud doesn’t really identify what the mind does to connect panels, but he does recognize that the mind needs to do something in order for understanding to take place. So, we can call “closure” might more positively be framed as “details to be named later.”

As much as I may pound away at the theories in Understanding Comics, the only reason I can do so is because I obsessed over it when I was younger. And, when you pour over something that much, you're views might change as you start applying and pondering it more. It really is a great foundation. Though foundations are meant to be built on... or sometimes bulldozed in order to build something better...

Problems with Closure, part 4

In my last post, I pointed out the assumption that pictures are not connected to any mental apparatus. I now continue on to show how that affects analysis of sequential images…

Assumption #3: Absence of Mind

By minimizing the contribution of the mind, a simple theory like closure can easily emerge. The images’ meanings are “out there in the world,” so all the mind needs to contribute is possible ways to pull those meanings together. Since no mind is found in the actual images, its placed instead between the images. Transitions just become a surface grafted onto this encompassing unifying process, where the “mind” “fills in the gaps.”

But, what is it "filling in the gaps" with? It must carry some information in order to do this.

Of course, the non-mental explanation says that we understand closure because we’ve had experiences in life that allow us to combine events in images. True enough. This is an appeal to the things being referenced. However, it still can’t escape the mental part of receiving those experiences and drawing upon them to understand images (i.e. doesn’t the mind then have to do something in order to make those experiences understood?).

This view casts the mind as a “magic box.” Stuff goes in, a conscious understanding is reached, but how did it do it? Cognition! Ok, yes, that’s true, but now tell me what that cognition is and how it works. You can’t just say “the mind does it” – you need to say what the mind does to be able to say that “it” does anything. Otherwise you’re just making an empty statement.

Closure doesn’t really say anything about the content of the panels, saying that meaning is created in the space between them. It cedes out a non-role to the “mind,” thereby passing the buck of meaning making to the ether. This makes closure essentially a faux cognitive process. And this is also why it can be extended to apply to just about anything at all.

Instead of a non-principle like “closure,” we can lay out mental schemas for events (and more) in our minds that allow for understanding sequential panels. Rather than a generalized magic that the “mystical mind” performs, this actually identifies the contribution of the mind.

My first model had three of these:

1) Environmental Phrase: unified various environmental elements at the same state
2) View Phrase: combined the same element at the same state
3) Temporal Phrase: unified elements of state changes

These "phrase structures" could then embed into each other, forming a hierarchy showing exactly what the mind brings to the table. While the panels are linear, the structures of understanding are not. Note also, by formulating these rules, they inherently pose constraints to which sequences come out.

My newer approach builds off of this further to stipulate actual grammatical roles, while rejecting the schemas above (because they don’t work entirely). You can see a glimpse of this new approach in the essay "Initial Refiner Projection", though that’s only a small part of it.

In all of these, a contribution of the mind is identified. It is not magically glossed over, and it imbues the power of meaning making to the images themselves in concert with given mental rules.

Once you come to this conclusion though, it raises some other important questions:

Where do these mental schemas come from? (learning or genetics?)
How many are there, and how do they work?
Do these structures connect to other mental domains?

All of these are very important questions, and just the sort of thing that will hopefully occupy a good deal of time and effort in cognitive science in the years to come.

Problems with Closure: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Problems with Closure, part 3

In my last post I pointed out that pictures are not believed to have constraints on them, and that the mind must place constraints on any sort of understanding:

Assumption #2: The Veil of Iconicity

This assumption is that pictures are “out there in the world,” not learned information, and thus not mental phenomena. McCloud shows this underlying belief by stating:

“Pictures are received information. We need no formal education to “get the message.” The message is instantaneous. Writing is perceived information. It takes time and specialized knowledge to decode the abstract symbols of language.” (p. 49)

This belief is formed because images are most often iconic, meaning that they derive their meaning through resemblance to what they reference. A picture of a person is known to refer to a person because we know what people look like in the world. Note, there are three parts to this equation: the picture of a person, people in the world, and the concept of people in our minds.

However, just because they look like what they mean, it doesn’t mean that pictures aren’t conceptual information. Through this resemblance, we forget that it actually requires a mind to understand these images, and thereby discount its contribution to understanding. Images just seem like what we experience in the world: we don’t seem to need any special understanding to know the world, so thus we don’t need special understanding to know images.

Upon closer reflection, this is somewhat of a ridiculous mistake. If I draw a picture, how can it not be connected to my mental understandings? It came out from my mind, why wouldn’t its reception need to go through my mind too!? I had to learn how to draw, doesn’t that mean I had to learn how to understand drawings too!?

Considerable studies have shown that the understanding of images is clearly not so transparent. Often, this is found in native communities like Australian or Amazon aborigines who couldn’t/can’t understand aspects of "Western” representation. In the past, this was haughtily used to justify their intelligence as "primitive" compared to Ameri-Europeans. Really, this is just a case of not having fluency in the conventionality of a graphic system (natives for the Western system(s), and Westerners for the native systems). Science is rife with these sorts of examples treating the world “objectively” while really being unable to see beyond the petri dish that oneself is standing in.

Because images look like what they represent, we gloss over the mental component for understanding them, and in turn is misplaced for sequential images. I’ll take this up in my next post.

Problems with Closure: Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Problems with Closure, part 2

The first problem with closure isn’t a direct one, but a tendency of the way our culture treats graphic images as a whole. As a topic, it also happens to nicely correspond to my new article up at comixpedia:

Assumption #1: Artistic Freedom

In line with an “Art” perspective, there is a tacit assumption that “anything goes” with regards to graphic creations. Because “Art” is supposed to be about innovation and interpretation, anything visual is regarded as free from constraints of any sort. This is why transitional approaches like McCloud’s allow for a “non-sequitur” transition, because it’s a catch-all for any panel-to-panel relationship that might seem odd.

Closure, as an idea, allows for this sort of “anything goes” freedom, because it only involves one-to-one panel relationships. Since only two panels are looked at, it escapes the types of constraints posed by an approach that focuses on the relationship of multiple panels to each other.

Of course, if our minds are involved at all, then there must be constraints. How could the mind function without them! Even given the Art perspective, constraints aren’t easy to find anyways because people tend not to find them unless they are broken. And if constraints exist to make people make sense, it usually means that they aren’t broken all too often in daily use.

This is also a concern about the difference between the understanding and interpretation positions that I mentioned in my last post. As cognitively wrong something might seem at a base level of understanding, we can still consciously give explanations for how it might make sense under the right "interpretation." Again, the trouble comes from thinking these are the same thing.

All this concern about “mind” leads to the next underlying assumption though, which will be discussed in my next post…

Problems with Closure: Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Problems with Closure, part 1

I’ve been reading Mike Meginnis’ blog lately, which has stirred up some observations I have about the issues of closure. As astute readers of my work know, I don’t buy into the ideas of closure anymore. I did once — developing more panel transitions even — but not since four years ago when I realized that it couldn’t possibly work for fairly straightforward empirical reasons.

Closure as a psychological notion from the Gestalts is largely about “image constancy,” which means that you can have a single image with pieces missing and still understand the whole. In daily perception, we experience this anytime one object covers up parts of another one. Despite that part is covered up, we still understand that there is a whole object beneath it.

McCloud extends closure to do this unification across two separate images. It is a compelling entailment to believe that across two panels we merely are “filling in the blanks” for events rather than objects. Or, even, extending this into some philosophical sense that we “fill in the blanks” all the time in daily life for everything. It is, however, wrong. And it’s founded on some basic underlying assumptions that I will articulate over the next several posts.

I will say, though, that I think linear transitions are the intuitive place to start an analysis of sequential images, and McCloud gave a gift to us all by inaugurating this field. But as much as I love the guy and appreciate his contributions, I have to tear into the ideas…

On the surface, closure provides what every body wants out of a theory. It’s a simple, catch –all that imbues the “reader” with individualistic power of contribution to the piece. However, human biology and cognition are rarely simple – nor should they be — given the millions of years of evolution and development they have undergone to reach the point they’re at.

Also, because of how simple McCloud leaves it, he opens the door for it to be applied to various purposes:

1) Is this “filling in the gaps” about unconscious understanding?

2) Is it about conscious interpretation of an “artistic” intent?

These distinctions are very important, and they are just what Meginnis struggles with. On one hand, we’re talking about mental processes that underlie understanding in a very basic sense. The other position is talking consciously interpreting "meaning" beyond that fundamental level of understanding.

Here’s the difference in an analogy to spoken grammar: No matter how much literary theory can explain what the "meaning" of a sentence is, it still doesn’t go into any part of real understanding. While it may debate the senses of words, the author’s intentions, and how well they achieve them, etc., it never actually broaches how the words themselves are strung together in a meaningful whole structurally.

You can debate all you want about what the "meaning" of the last sentence was interpretively, but none of that can go to explaing just why your mind can directly connect the word "debate" to each of the groupings of words "senses of words," "the author's intentions," and "how well they acheive them" (or how those groupings of words are connected to each other). Those understandings certainly aren't linear, which is how you just experienced them consciously in reading.

Such structural concerns are left to linguists, and are largely irrelevant to these “interpretive” questions because they are at a level above the structural investigations of cognition. The same is true for sequences of images.

In the next several posts, I’ll be going more in depth on the problems with closure. These will all be based on underlying problems with the theory, not delving into the empirical examples found in data which invalidate linear analyses (of which there are many).

Problems with Closure: Part 2, Part 3, Part 4