Walking around my neighbourhoud on a summer night, I was reminded of the beautiful and eery cover Chris Ware drew for the New Yorker a couple of years ago.
So simple and elegant and evocative...
In his comic books, wretched, hapless characters are forever trapped within the super-controled confines of an elaborate graphic layout: claustrophobic boxes, gaudy colors, forensic instructions for (dis)assembly. It is an airless and sterile world, where the trope of sexual solipsism, existential malaise and misery that is the tiresome staple of American "underground" comics is pushed to its very limit. One almost has the impression of being confronted with "outsider art" obeying its own internal rules, unconcerned with communication.
But when he applies his great talent to expressing something other than his own morbidity, he reveals himself a sensitive illustrator, with a sense of humour and poetry. Here is the wonderful poster he did for the Thai film Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives.
About this design, he says: "I wanted to get at both the transcendent solemnity of the film while
keeping some sense of its loose, very unpretentious accessibility." Just so!
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