BEYOND UTOPIA, Manga in/as Essay by Asiascape.org

for esther 1

Contents 4

Preface

Competition 1: Ox-Herding Sequence

Paul Fordham

Victor Perfecto Camba & Patrick Sung

SĂŠbastien Conard

AimĂŠe de Jongh

Competition 2: First Contact

Nadj Yannick Wernink

Izumi Kijima

Brainne del Rosario

Anonymous

Denise Telalagic

108

Competition 3: Interpreting Kurama Tengu

112

Elena Vitagliano

124

Brittany Partin

136

Carl K. Li

142

Deanna Taylor Nardy

Preface: Manga in/as Essay Chris Goto-Jones, Leiden This beautiful little book has evolved gradually over the course of a number of years. Like many projects, there are many different versions of the origin of this one; beginnings are delicate things. One version (perhaps the most logical) involves being asked to develop and teach a course in 2006 about Japanese manga and anime as a way to introduce undergraduate students to issues in modern Japanese culture and society. This course, ‘Japanimation,’ sought to explore all kinds of questions about politics, philosophy, history, and society, using only anime and manga as resources. A number of things became clear during this course: one of them was that the students were far more literate in these visual media than I was; another was that we were continuously struggling to talk about the images as illustrations of ideas or concepts that were basically verbal in our heads – we were treating the manga as though they were coded versions of textual arguments. When I say ‘we,’ I mean two very concrete things: first, I really mean ‘I’; second, I mean those students who listened to me and dutifully internalised what I told them. It gradually became apparent, however, that there were some students in that class who thought I was getting this completely wrong, that I was missing the point. In the end, one of them asked whether they could turn in their final essay in the form of a manga. Of course, I smiled and chuckled amiably, but the look on his face told me that this wasn’t a joking matter. All the various reasons why this shouldn’t be allowed cycled through my head: what would the head of department say? Would a manga really satisfy the examination regulations, which required a final ‘essay’ for the course? Was writing in ‘manga’ simply the equivalent to writing in a foreign language – permissible under certain specific conditions? What would the quality assurance officers say about this if they audited the course, and what was the probability that they would pick this particular course to audit? And, perhaps most importantly, did I really believe that a piece of work written in the form of manga could really demonstrate a sufficiently sophisticated level of knowledge and understanding to stand in a university? I turned this last question over and over in my head very carefully, feeling a little like I was rolling out short-pastry and was worried that I’d overwork it. But in the end the answer was inevitable: if I could really dedicate an entire university course to the study of anime and manga as media through which to understand politics, philosophy, and history, how could I simultaneously maintain that these media were unsuitable as vehicles to discuss this material? I had even shown a slide in a lecture that read: ‘If a picture speaks a thousand words, it is simply a form of short-hand; pictures don’t speak words, they speak pictures.’ Saying ‘no’ would simply be incoherent.

I said ‘no.’ Of course I said ‘no.’ And the reason I said ‘no’ had nothing to do with whether or not it seemed contextually incoherent to do so. Instead, the reason was very simple: universities privilege text. Indeed, training students in advanced textual competence (as evidence of advanced education itself) it is one of the core responsibilities of the modern university. Society expects and needs this from universities. This is what we mean when we talk about literacy, both in general and in particular disciplines. If universities and intellectuals are to maintain a responsible role in society, they must exemplify literacy and use this to intervene critically and powerfully in the public sphere. No matter what students study, they must be able to talk about it and write about it. A university is not an art school; the learning outcomes are different, alien even. I had a responsibility to say ‘no.’ Somewhere in the back of my mind, though, I couldn’t help feeling that this was an ideologically conservative position. While it was certainly the case that university graduates and intellectuals had a duty and a responsibility to intervene in public discourse through superior literacy, surely it wasn’t the case that the literacies required to do this were always the same? Doesn’t society change all the time? Doesn’t expressive technology change all the time? Hasn’t history already seen the dimensions of literacy shift profoundly and repeatedly, moving from the spoken word (in oral cultures) through the written word (after the invention of writing and then the printing press) back through the spoken word (with the invention of radio broadcasting) through performance (with film and television) and now to… what (after the digital revolution)? Twentieth century philosophers like Walter Benjamin and Jean-Paul Sartre called attention to the potential political crisis occasioned by this technological transformation of the public sphere, focusing on the way in which it risks dehumanizing the public by rendering it into a passive consumer of ideologies rather than a partner in a genuinely discursive site. Didn’t Sartre call on intellectuals to develop advanced literacies in radio and television precisely so that they could intervene more effectively in societies where the public discourse was dominated by these media? Even in the 1970s, text just wasn’t enough anymore, if ever it was. Can we really maintain that text remains so hegemonic after the digital revolution? Is the global pervasiveness of manga really irrelevant to literacy? Is the university just out of step with society? Even if text still dominates what it means to succeed in the university, what is its real role in the public discourse? Are the conventions of the university failing us? So, despite feeling that the incident with my student had been resolved appropriately, the episode stuck with me. It returned to me over and over again as I was working on some questions of comparative philosophy that summer. I couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong with the situation. Gradually, it seemed to me that the kind of dissonance I felt between the need

for a contextually coherent position (‘we can use manga to discuss manga’) and the need for an institutionally acceptable position (‘we use text to talk about everything’) was beginning to resemble the kind of disjunction we see in the effort to compare different philosophical systems. The problem was not that these were different models of knowledge per se; the problem was that they were related to each other hierarchically: European philosophy is not compared equally with philosophy from other parts of the world, and text is not compared equally with manga. The difference was not only conventional but also normative. This was a question of the ethics and politics of knowledge. Looking back, I began to wonder whether making the right decision (saying ‘no’) had been the wrong thing to do. Responsibilities seemed to conflict. Turning afresh back to my research on comparative philosophy, I began to wonder whether it would be possible to reframe the boundaries across which we might talk about ‘comparison.’ On the one hand, yes, comparative philosophy was about looking beyond the European tradition by searching outside of Europe for interesting texts. But on the other hand, comparative philosophy could also be about looking beyond the European tradition by searching in non-textual media. And, in some cases, both of these mechanisms of distancing would coincide. The very first ‘Manga in/as Essay’ competition was themed on such a case: the classic ‘ox-herding’ sequence of images that express the journey towards Zen enlightenment. In 2007, we were lucky enough to receive a grant from the Netherlands Organization for Scientific Research (NWO) to start an international research network to investigate some of these questions. The result was ‘asiascape. org’ which focussed on the expressive potentials of anime, manga, and technoculture (such as videogames) in East Asia. Building on this, a few years later we received a major ‘VICI’ grant from the NWO for a project entitled ‘Beyond Utopia: New Politics, the Politics of Knowledge, and the Science Fictional Field of Japan.’ These grants, together with support from the University of Leiden’s Institute for Area Studies (LIAS) made it possible for us to launch three ‘Manga in/as Essay’ competitions on an international scale. These competitions were integral parts of the research programmes, specifically seeking to address the question of literacy in manga as a mode of expression suitable for an essay. You can see the results in this little book. Thankfully, this research trajectory has really taken off over the last few years. The spirit of inquiry that characterises these projects has been captured by the term ‘Political Arts’ in a spinoff project called the Political & Philosophical Arts Initiative (politicalarts.org), which focuses on the spaces of intersection between the arts and the political and philosophical realms more generally. This initiative supported an undergraduate major at Leiden University College in The Hague and is now launching a major new, international book series with Bloomsbury Academic Publishing in London. At the same time, Asiascape itself has provided the seed for the launch of a new academic journal with the prestigious Dutch publishing house, Brill, which is now in university libraries all around the world. 6

So, what you hold in your hands is the bloom of an extended experiment. It contains the work of talented, smart, creative people of myriad backgrounds from around the world who wanted to test themselves against the claim that manga is (not) an appropriate medium for essays. In addition, I’d like to look at this little book in the context of increasing and intense pressure on universities to demonstrate ‘research-led teaching.’ This phrase is usually interpreted to mean that professors must bring the fruits of their research into the classroom, to ensure that students learn at the cutting edge. However, this book is rather a consequence of the opposite, of ‘teaching-led research,’ in which the questions posed by a student in class triggered a whole new research trajectory in an attempt to help the university keep pace with society itself. Students are not only the future; they’re here in the present too. I began this brief preface by noting how delicate and important beginnings usually are, and I hope that the student to whom I refused permission to submit his final paper in the form of manga will take some solace in knowing that I took his request this seriously. If he still wants to submit it, I’ll mark it for extra credit…

The Competitions Asiascape sponsored three international manga competitions over the course of 4 years (2010-2014). In each case, the purpose was to explore the expressive potentials of manga as a medium for the essay. Each competition had a different theme, and in each case participants were welcome to interpret it as freely as they wanted. Indeed, they were encouraged to develop their essay in their own voice and style. The first ever Asiascape manga competition (2010) was themed on the classic ‘Ox-herding’ graphic sequence from East Asia, which has traditionally been used to explain the pathway towards Enlightenment. A version of the traditional sequence is included in this book, together with the winning entries. Hence, this competition explores a philosophical theme that has been dealt with in the form of sequential art for centuries. The second competition (2012) was themed on the notion of ‘First Contact,’ which was diversely and creatively interpreted by the many competitors. An explanation of the intent behind ‘First Contact’ is included in this book, together with the entries. This competition explores the political, ethical, and psychological impact of First Contact. The third and final competition (2014) took as its subject the complicated and mythical Noh play, Kurama Tengu. This competition provokes an association between manga and performance – between sequential art and theatre – as modes of philosophical essay and magical thinking. The original play is included in this book together with the winning entries.

Competition 1, 2010

Variations and Interpretations of the

Classic Ox-Herding Sequence In the twelfth century the Chinese master Kakuan drew the pictures of the ten bulls, basing them on earlier Taoist bulls, and wrote the comments in prose and verse translated here. His version was pure Zen, going deeper than earlier versions, which had ended with the nothingness of the eighth picture. It has been a constant source of inspiration to students ever since, and many illustrations of Kakuan’s bulls have been made through the centuries. The bull is the eternal principle of life, truth in action. The ten bulls represent sequent steps in the realization of one’s true nature. The illustrations shown on the following pages are modern versions by painter and sculpter Tatsuhiko Yokô (1928). The translation of the prose and verse are taken from Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, A Collection of Zen and Pre-Zen Writings by Nyogen Senzaki and Paul Reps (Charles Tuttle and Co. 2008)

1. The Search for the Bull In the pasture of this world, I endlessly push aside the tall grasses in search of the bull. Following unnamed rivers, lost upon the interpenetrating paths of distant mountains, My strength failing and my vitality exhausted, I cannot find the bull. I only hear the locusts chirring through the forest at night. Comment: The bull never has been lost. What need is there to search? Only because of separation from my true nature, I fail to find him. In the confusion of the senses I lose even his tracks. Far from home, I see many crossroads, but which way is the right one I know not. Greed and fear, good and bad, entangle me.

2. Discovering the Footprints Along the riverbank under the trees, I discover footprints! Even under the fragrant grass I see his prints. Deep in remote mountains they are found. These traces no more can be hidden than oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s nose, looking heavenward. Comment: Understanding the teaching, I see the footprints of the bull. Then I learn that, just as many utensils are made from one metal, so too are myriad entities made of the fabric of self. Unless I discriminate, how will I perceive the true from the untrue? Not yet having entered the gate, nevertheless I have discerned the path.

3. Perceiving the Bull I hear the song of the nightingale. The sun is warm, the wind is mild, willows are green along the shore, Here no bull can hide! What artist can draw that massive head, those majestic horns? Comment: When one hears the voice, one can sense its source. As soon as the six senses merge, the gate is entered. Wherever one enters one sees the head of the bull! This unity is like salt in water, like color in dyestuff. The slightest thing is not apart from self.

4. Catching the Bull I seize him with a terrific struggle. His great will and power are inexhaustible. He charges to the high plateau far above the cloud-mists, Or in an impenetrable ravine he stands. Comment: He dwelt in the forest a long time, but I caught him today! Infatuation for scenery interferes with his direction. Longing for sweeter grass, he wanders away. His mind still is stubborn and unbridled. If I wish him to submit, I must raise my whip..

OX-HERDING

5. Taming the Bull! The whip and rope are necessary, Else he might stray off down some dusty road. Being well trained, he becomes naturally gentle. Then, unfettered, he obeys his master. Comment: When one thought arises, another thought follows. When the first thought springs from enlightenment, all subsequent thoughts are true. Through delusion, one makes everything untrue. Delusion is not caused by objectivity; it is the result of subjectivity. Hold the nose-ring tight and do not allow even a doubt.

6. Riding the Bull Home Mounting the bull, slowly I return homeward. The voice of my flute intones through the evening. Measuring with hand-beats the pulsating harmony, I direct the endless rhythm. Whoever hears this melody will join me. Comment: This struggle is over; gain and loss are assimilated. I sing the song of the village woodsman, and play the tunes of the children. Astride the bull, I observe the clouds above. Onward I go, no matter who may wish to call me back.

7. The Bull Transcended Astride the bull, I reach home. I am serene. The bull too can rest. The dawn has come. In blissful repose, Within my thatched dwelling I have abandoned the whip and rope. Comment: All is one law, not two. We only make the bull a temporary subject. It is as the relation of rabbit and trap, of fish and net. It is as gold and dross, or the moon emerging from a cloud. One path of clear light travels on throughout endless time.

8. Both Bull and Self Transcended Whip, rope, person, and bull -- all merge in No-Thing. This heaven is so vast no message can stain it. How may a snowflake exist in a raging fire? Here are the footprints of the patriarchs. Comment: Mediocrity is gone. Mind is clear of limitation. I seek no state of enlightenment. Neither do I remain where no enlightenment exists. Since I linger in neither condition, eyes cannot see me. If hundreds of birds strew my path with flowers, such praise would be meaningless.

9. Reaching the Source Too many steps have been taken returning to the root and the source Better to have been blind and deaf from the beginning Dwelling in one’s true abode, unconcerned with that without -The river flows tranquilly on and the flowers are red. Comment: From the beginning, truth is clear. Poised in silence, I observe the forms of integration and disintegration. One who is not attached to “form” need not be “reformed.” The water is emerald, the mountain is indigo, and I see that which is creating and that which is destroying.

10. In the World Barefooted and naked of breast, I mingle with the people of the world. My clothes are ragged and dust-laden, and I am ever blissful. I use no magic to extend my life, Now, before me, the dead trees become alive. Comment: Inside my gate, a thousand sages do not know me. The beauty of my garden is invisible. Why should one search for the footprints of the patriarchs? I go to the market place with my wine bottle and return home with my staff. I visit the wine shop and the market, and everyone I look upon becomes enlightened.

OX-HERDING

Paul Fordham

Space, Ox, Manga and the Environment Paul Fordham is an amateur (manga) artist from Carmarthenshire in the United Kingdom.

PA U L FO R D H A M

Sebastien Conard

Répétition et différance Sébastien Conard (1982) is a graphic novelist from Ghent, Belgium The subject of this first manga project of Asiascape.org was a very inspiring one. Being a graphic novelist, querying into the theme of the ox-herding pictures not only disclosed to me this classic Buddhist tale, it also led me back to a very meditative journey I’ve spent in Myanmar and Laos some years ago. Back then, travelling on my own, I reached a pleasant pace and an enduring feeling of content barely known before. Truly, not much more than your usual Westerner abroad, taking time off, relaxing from the daily high-speed society at home. I don’t tend to be a Buddhist, properly speaking. As Nietzsche, I believe Europeans rather need their own version of Buddhism in order to escape from debilitating nihilism. Still, I kept some of those modest insights alive since then and they helped, especially when times were harder. Inhale, exhale, slow down, feel, focus then open up, accept, don’t try, aspire without ambition. As I said: tiny things based on some superficial inquiries and personal experiences.

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Victor Perfecto Camba & Patrick Sung

Zen and the Modern Cow Victor Perfecto Camba Silkscreen, Ink and Screentone

Victor was born in the Philippines in 1983. He is an illustrator currently residing in Long Beach, California. He’s worked as a cartoonist and illustrator for since 2003 and served as Comics Editor of the Long Beach Union Weekly from 2007 to 2010. In addition to writing and illustrating his comic strip “You’re STUCK Here,” Victor has done freelance illustration and T-shirt design. He is pursuing a BFA in Illustration at California State University, Long Beach.

Patrick Sung Original Script and Statement

Patrick was born in Seattle, Washington in 1987. In 2009, he received his B.A. in English from the University of California, Irvine. He currently resides in Tottori, Japan, where he works as an English teacher while pursuing his interests in fiction and fan studies research. This collaboration marks his first time working with comics.

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Introduction

1. The search for life

A cow sits in meditation. Its limbs form the Vitarka mudra, which signifies the opening of debate. Behind its head sits a halo, a simple circle that has symbolized enlightenment for thousands of years. The panels of the sequence radiate from the corona, representing the wheel of samsara that locks the world in an endless cycle of suffering. There are divisions between panels, but no borders on the page, to further encourage a sense of timelessness.

Half-hour lunch break; I seek peace of mind. The register rings, orders are called to empty space. A cheap burger lies in my hand, soon to be eaten. Only hunger gives me the appetite to eat it. Comment: Here is the modern man. Bound by a schedule and by endless details, he fails to see life when he holds it right in his hand. Emptiness and disconnection from the world plague him.

2. Discovering the footprints

Something different in the restaurant! Are these footprints? Imbedded in the tile, over chairs and through the window, The tracks continue; I cannot help but follow. My burger and I go together. Comment: No longer satisfied, the man follows the first interesting path he finds. It originates in the fast food restaurant and soon goes far beyond. The first journey begins.

3. Perceiving the bull

The space is dark and narrow. There is nowhere to move but forward, step by step. The back of the bull is inevitable. For the first time I behold a real animal, in the flesh. Comment: Having followed the trail, the man reaches what he believes as the end. At last, here is life! He eagerly goes to see the bullâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s head.

4. The captives revealed

The cacophony of steers packed together! In surprise, I let my burger fall. Corn feed, manure and sweaty hide: A dizzying smell, unimaginable before. Comment: Few people wish to imagine the realities of their food. The burgerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s journey is over, as it has reached its source. However, a new journey has commenced.

5. Selection of the bull

One creature struggles against the rope. But there is no room to escape, and the bindings are strong. Soon, the bull settles down, And marches obediently to its fate. Comment: This is no black-and-white animal as one might see on milk cartons, peacefully eating grass. The cow being led to slaughter is a dark, plain creature.

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6. Slaughter of the bull

Upward by its hooves, the bull carcass stands like a man, Pulled by the crank as steadily as a heartbeat. The expert knife whistles a tune, Turns beast into rib eye, tenderloin, fat for making tallow. Comment: With little fanfare, the bull is killed and sliced to pieces. This is the true beginning of wisdom, gained not by journeying toward oneness, but by bearing witness to sharp and bloody separation.

7. The first transformation

The parts have been processed and ready for shipment. Their final destinations: supermarkets, restaurants, kitchen tables. One hundred percent Grade-A ground beef patties, Quiet and innocent as angels. Comment: Once the choicest cuts have been removed, the offal and rough parts of the bull are put into a grinder and homogenized. With the aid of Styrofoam, plastic and printed stickers, dead cow becomes sanitized for consumption and rechristened “beef.”

8. The second transformation

“Hello sir/ma’am, may I take your order?” “Would you like to make that a meal?” “Your order number is 76. Thank you and have a nice day.” “We’ll call your number when your order’s ready.”

Conclusion In Mahayana Buddhist tradition, the defining trait of the bodhisattva is not enlightenment alone, but enlightenment coupled with compassion for one’s fellow beings. This interpretation of the ten bulls sequence is meant as a reminder of the suffering that modern life obscures from our notice, as well as an affirmation of humanity’s connection to life. If all creatures are in search of Buddha-nature, as humans are, then we would do well to remember what we inflict upon the world simply to survive. The aim of this essay is not to inspire anguish or guilt, but a renewed sense of respect.

Comment: The clerk places an order, and the cooking staff prepares the beef. After adding flavors and aesthetic additions, everything goes inside a bun and onto a tray for serving.

9. Perfection achieved

I behold a wonder of the modern age. Not cow, but beef since the day it was born! Made to feed and to enjoy with fries and a Coke,For a half-hour lunch between twelve-thirty and one. Comment: This is the all-American hamburger; recognizable the world over, mouth-watering in its cookie-cutter sameness, the symbol of modern processing triumphant. “Bull” has been turned successfully into “fast food.”

10. Return to the restaurant

Break has ended. I am tired and hungry. I must run to make it back to work. My burger will be eaten so that I may live. This moment is over. My day continues. Comment: The man returns to the world, sobered by his new understanding. Nothing on the outside has changed, but inside is a completely different world. He eats and is enlightened.

V I C T O R P E R FE C T O C A MB A & PAT R I C K S26 UNG

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Sebastien Conard

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With the same lack of thoroughness, I somewhat roamed about on the Internet to inform myself a little further on the ox-herding sequence. Picking here and there, encountering diverse interpretations, I found it a candid little story. For me, the most interesting element is the importance that some give to the ten thousand things. True awareness is then understood as the simultaneous consciousness of all things present, all things alive and dying. It reminds me of the burgeoning multiplicity where philosopher Deleuze focused upon and writer Michaux extensively wrote about, for example in L’ infini turbulent, his combined writings and drawings about his adventures under the influence of mescaline. In this sense, I wanted to interpret the ox-herding tale as a sequence of ten thousand things that constantly change without ever really moving at all. The repetition of the central landscape dwells on this répétition et différence. Subsequently, I chose to resume the ten steps with ten pages. Each page consists of a dominant central frame, the landscape ever present but ever changing, asking for one’s first glance on the page, bordered by a sequence of ten frames. A front page precedes this graphic narrative essay: the same landscape but as an etching, introducing the setting for the reader but with a more distant, timeless feel. Throughout the story, one can link the small frames to the repeated landscape but without any exact localization. This comic might as well have started as a blurry daydream while gazing at some old etching.

To create each sequence, I wrote down a number of key words related to sense, intent and atmosphere of each step. Those notes served as small synopses. They are partly inspired by the verses of the Chinese master Kakuan (12th c.) as disclosed in the call for submissions for this project. These are my notes:

1. The searching of the bull (the bull has never been lost): grass, trees, woods, (door de bomen het bos niet meer zien), crossing rivers, crossroads, mountains, hearing the locusts chirring at night, fatigue, estrangement of oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s true nature, confusion of the senses, undecidability (many roads but which one is the right one?), the map is not the territory.

SEBASTIEN CONARD

2. Discovering the footprints: traces, fragrant grass (following oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s nose), high up in the mountains, nose to the sky, differentiation between true and false, discovering the path to truth.

3. Perceiving the bull: the nightingale sings, the warm setting sun, the soft breeze, the green willows on the river bank, the ox, a beautiful beast, hearing the voice of truth is knowing its source, synaesthesia, merging of the senses, unity of experience, truth/the ox.

SEBASTIEN CONARD

4. Catching the bull: struggling, mighty beast, the high plateau, clouds, mist, dust, the ravine, wrestling with experienced truths, breathtaking and intensive.

5. Taming the bull: the whip, the rope, taming, the dusty road, rest, sweaty skin, without a doubt, thinking straightforward and decidedly, following the path of true thoughts, naturally leaving false ideas behind.

SEBASTIEN CONARD

6. Riding the bull home: at night, still cloudy, mounting the beast, without whip nor rope, riding homewards, leading the ox on the flute to the endless rhythm of a pulsating harmony, rest, balance, assimilation, a cheery tune, straightforward without doubting, in harmony between body and mind, human and nature, enlightened, ten thousand things.

7. The bull transcended: the moon emerging from a cloud, oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s true home, man and beast at rest, at dawn, in unity: one truth, one law, one balance.

SEBASTIEN CONARD

8. Both bull and self transcended: man, beast, whip, rope, all vanish into No-thing, the immaculate void, an unlimited state, unaffected, undisturbed, no seeking any more, like a blinding daydream, full light.

9. Reaching the source: awakening again, rediscovering reality, the source, the roots of the tree, oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s true home, the steady stream, the red flowers, the emerald river, the indigo mountains, just like a natural peyote trip, crystal clear water (truth), the quiet observation of life and death, integration and destruction, creation and annihilation, shapelessness (lâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;informe), ten thousand things

SEBASTIEN CONARD

10. In the world: barefooted, bare-chested, mingling with the people, in rags and dirty, holding the beggarâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s staff, drinking wine on the marketplace, death trees flowering up, blissful, cheery, a secret, invisible joy, a lush inner garden, everything enlightened.

The result of this method is this essay in ten short sequences, some more mosaic or fragmented, others following a higher pace with rather sensorial-motoric or filmic snapshots. I wanted to subtly transgress the usual baroque sequentiality that is strongly based on affects of speed, action and chronological and representational consistency (diegetic suspension of disbelief). Still using classic figuration, I preferred to use tiny, repetitive windows on fragments of material reality, trying to translate the quiet rhythm of ten thousand things. Meanwhile, I hoped to convey some meanings by classic iconography or symbolism (like the ouroboros) or by intuitive depiction (like specific parts of the ox for the related senses). Translinear placing of formal elements like the eye of the ox/ the chicken and the moon/ sun (a comics technique called tressage) should give an overall sense of unity. The rather realistic comic style is meant to be functional (not drawing the reader away from the story) and somehow in the line of classic manga, manhua and comics. Also the use of colors might have diverted oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s attention. The choice for grayscale is thus one of simplicity, coherence and functionality. So is the choice for the absence of text. I hope the drawings, sequences and compositions should be effective enough. SĂŠbastien Conard, Ghent, Belgium October 31, 2010

Aimee De Jongh

The Bull and The Boy Aimée de Jongh (1988) lives in Rotterdam, the Netherlands. She works as a professional comic artist. Ever since she competed in the competition “Stripstrijd” in the Dutch quality newspaper “Het Parool” (2006), her comics and illustrations have been demanded more and more. In 2006 she published her first book, called “Aimée TV”. Since 2007, Aimée is making animations too, from short movies to leaders. Her style in drawing is influenced by the Japanese manga comics, yet she gives it her own, recognizable touch. The professional work Aimée does consists of things such as comics, illustrations, CD covers, animations, book covers and magazine covers. Her portfolio is: www.iamshotaro.com

Context I hadn’t seen the ox-herding pictures before I participated in this contest. After seeing them, I went on a digital journey to find out more about the pictures and their meaning. That way, I reckoned, I could make my own interpretation of them. My approach was simple: interpret, but also make a slight twist in the story to make things interesting. I make a lot of comics for several publishers, and one of my favorite things to do is short “gags”, the four-panel-comics that end with a funny event. So I thought: How can I apply humor into the ox- herding pictures? Of course, it is a very serious set of pictures that have a lot of meaning buried into them. So I chose to keep most of the pictures intact and just add a whole page in between the pictures. The picture that represents “taming the ox” was spread out over this new page. Here, the boy would tame the ox a bit too much, by taking him to the cinema, taking a bath together, celebrating his birthday, etcetera. They eventually become best friends. But then, the sequence continues where it stopped, namely the picture of the transcending of the bull and self. The bull transcends and disappears. The boy, who had just made a new best friend, ends up in the world alone. Instead of being happy up there, he’s sad because he lost his bull-friend. Of course, this is a humoristic take on the sequence. The meaning of the taming-picture is exaggerated in an extreme way, in order to make it funny. It’s a caricature. The boy is not supposed to be sad at the end of the sequence either. So even though the events of the sequence stay the same, the emotions within the events changed. That raises a question for the reader. Did the meaning of the sequence change because the emotions of the character changed? Also, the question remains: Is friendship really important at all – or is transcending to the world the most important? Or maybe both? I think it’s best if the readers find out themselves. At the end of the comic, there’s a candle that was lit on the cake that the bull got for his birthday. So it’s a memory of the boy, but also a symbol for warmth, friendship, as well as light (or enlightening) and clarity – this points back to the sequence of the ox- herding pictures. I made an unhappy ending to the comic, because it seemed like a nice twist to the story. But in the end, he came in the world and reached exactly what he was looking for.

So the ending is both happy and unhappy. It’s just how the reader interprets the comic. Look and feel There were certain choices I made through designing the three pages of the comic. One was of course the style of the comic. I like manga, so I tried to use elements from that typical style, especially in the design of the boy. But in order to make it more “my style”, the bull was more cartoon-like and the backgrounds were more realistic. This makes the comic not one genre or style, but a mix. It’s much more interesting to look at, in my opinion, than a comic that’s full of cliché style- elements. The (digital) coloring was something that I decided to do last-minute. The comic worked well in black and white, but somehow the colors made it more alive. I made the backgrounds in soft colors, pastel-like and with very smooth edges. This refers to ancient Asian painters – they rarely use very hard colors, instead they choose the soft ones that always make the drawings more misty. This works very well in landscape-paintings. The foreground (characters and objects) was colored more like the cels from anime. This technique is called “cel-shading”. This separates the figures more from the softly colored background and makes them more important in the panel. This way, background and foreground are directed exactly where they should be to the eye of the reader. Because it’s a comic, I also used textballoons and I think it makes the comic even more humoristic. Aimée de Jongh 2010

A I ME E D E J O N G H

Competition 2, 2012

First Contact The encounter between humanity and some form of alien life is a perennial theme of science fiction; it has been pervasive in the comic books, novels, and movies of the genre for at least a century, often standing-in for interrogations of imperialism and colonial histories. However, one of the specific conceptual dilemmas of science fiction (and one of the things science fiction adds to the historical inquiry) is the question of how people can make sense of this first encounter with extra-terrestrial, alien life. Going even further, before we can even ask about how we might cope with discovering that we (qua humanity) are not alone in the universe, there is an even more fundamental question lurking in the darkness: if this alien life is really alien, how will we even recognise it as life? Isn’t it entirely the nature of the alien to be unrecognisably different from the familiar? Otherwise, isn’t it merely ‘different’ rather than ‘alien’? Surely ‘alien’ has to mean something more than (or other than) ‘different’? In the end, isn’t this the paradox of the scientific search for alien life that we see conducted by the great space agencies of Earth: they are not really looking for the alien, but rather are looking for tell-tale signs of the familiar in distant places; they are looking for evidence of ‘life as we know it,’ which is to say that they might not be looking for alien life at all. In this case, to the extent that ‘alien’ means something, it simply seems to suggest ‘from far away.’ But what else can we do? How can we quest for something that, by definition, we could not recognise if we found it? How will we ever know if we’ve been successful? This represents something of an impasse for science, but it is also a fascinating opportunity for science fiction, which is replete with adventurers discovering ‘life, Jim, but not as we know it.’ For the crew of the USS Enterprise, this first contact usually 48

involves a period of initial misunderstanding and perhaps violence (probably involving ripping a shirt) followed by a gradually dawning sense of mutual comprehension and respect for difference (probably accompanied by kissing). First contact not only generates political and ethical dilemmas but also psychological ones. We see them explored, for example, in the works of Iain M. Banks, whose ‘Culture’ novels wrestle with the implications of encountering a superior civilization that can manipulate others at will. He refers to the ‘outside context problem’ (OCP) as a way to talk about the psychological and ethical matrix that emerges from first inter-species contact. But perhaps the most celebrated investigation of the psychology of first contact is the seminal work of Stanislaw Lem, whose classic novel ‘Solaris’ grapples with the very possibility of recognising or comprehending the alien. In the end, if we construct the idea of the alien as a psychological category, isn’t it possible that all this talk of science fiction and civilizations from ‘a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away,’ are leading us unnecessarily far from home? While NASA searches for the familiar but distant, couldn’t we search for the locally unfamiliar and thus value our first contact with a dog, a boyfriend, a chess-computer, or a snow flake as ‘first contact’? When we look around our immediate environment, might it not be full of ‘life, Jim, but not as we know it’?

Nadj Yannick Wernink The Robot and the Butterflies Nadj Yannick Wernink was born in the Hague, the Netherlands and lived there untill he was seven. He then moved to Spain and France and travelled with his family through Africa and Europe. From a very young age he was attracted to the manga style of drawing and as a consequence, his admiration for Japan, its culture, history and technology grew and grew. Animation and manga were Nadj’s first introduction to the country and discovering Japan felt to him like discovering a whole new world. He grew up watching ‘Pokémon’ and similar series, and was later introduced to the animiation films made by Studio Ghibli. Seeing creations like ‘Spirited Away’ he was mesmerized by the beauty of the flowing movements of their drawings and decided to start collecting all Studio Ghibli’s work.

In an area far in the future, there was a girl living with her grandmother in a little cottage in nature. Grandma is worrying about the girl, being lonely and miserable in her isolation, was she suffering a mysterious disease?