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This is the seventh part of a series of articles on the relationship between jazz and comic books. Go to Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 or Part 6.

The parallel between comics and jazz in their embrace of cultural plurality highlights the significance of artistic expression in challenging societal norms and fostering greater understanding and appreciation for diverse cultural perspectives. From the iconic artwork on jazz album covers to posters promoting live performances, the visual representations of the jazz culture created a compelling visual narrative that parallels the sonic experience.

The premise of this series of articles is that a large part of the aesthetics of jazz comes from the Graphic Arts, while the Ninth Art finds a source of inspiration in the genre. Both mediums have the capacity to empower and amplify voices that are often underrepresented, and both are privileged fields for observing gender issues, which is the main point of the present segment.

When it comes to comic books, the portrayal of gender roles and stereotypes has been a subject of debate. From the early days of the comic book industry, female characters were often relegated to stereotypical roles such as “damsels in distress” or sidekicks to their male counterparts.

Although in recent years there has been a noticeable shift towards creating more diverse and empowering female characters, challenging traditional gender norms within the genre, there is still a lot of room development in this area.

Similarly, in the realm of jazz, there has been a long history of male dominance, with female musicians often facing discrimination and gender-based barriers in pursuing their careers. Despite these challenges, there have been many influential female jazz musicians who have made a lasting impact on the genre, breaking through the traditional gender norms and paving the way for future generations of women in jazz.

While achievements in the field of women’s rights gain visibility outside the limits of representation (to use an expression from the French philosopher Michel Foucault), female protagonism still encounters a certain barrier in transposition into the language of comic books. Biographical graphic novels are a good example of how representation can both promote advances, but also hinder them.

When examining the portrayal of male and female characters in graphic novels, it becomes evident that these depictions often intertwine with and reflect the pervasive elements of the sexist social structure within which we exist. Particularly noteworthy is the prevalence of extremely eroticized bodies among the heroines in the superhero comics niche.

This trend not only perpetuates unrealistic and hypersexualized standards of beauty, but also perpetuates gender stereotypes and reinforces the objectification of female characters within the medium. These portrayals can serve to underscore the need for a more progressive and inclusive approach to character representation within graphic novels, one that embraces diversity, rejects traditional gender norms, and strives for more authentic and multidimensional characterizations.

It is also often observed that representations tend to focus more on personal scandals rather than on the professional achievements of these remarkable women. This imbalance can lead to a skewed perception of their contributions to the world of jazz and their impact on the broader cultural landscape. Furthermore, such stereotypes have detrimental effects on the visibility and appreciation of women in music in general and particularly in jazz, and their importance to the history of the genre, overlooking and or undervaluating it.

A good example of how the practice of victimization of the protagonist in graphic biographies of jazz icons constitutes a widespread and naturalized visual grammar is the comparison of the covers of the biographies of jazz legends Billie Holiday and Charles Mingus, both published by NBM – Graphic Novels.

The portrayal of the universe of Billie and Mingus, presents striking divergences in terms of the elements chosen to convey its essence. While certain aspects converge, such as the pervasive atmosphere infused with the smoke of cigarettes and cigars, the semiotic representations greatly differ in both covers.

The female figure is depicted in a state of desolation, completely devoid of any reference to her instrument, the voice, and reduced to a dramatic figure. In stark contrast, Mingus is rendered majestically, symbolizing power and authority in his musical prowess (and the reference to his instrument is there, too)

These observations are intended to remind us that comic books, like jazz, provide a lens through which we can examine and question the attitudes of society towards gender issues and, therefore, serve as important platforms for advocating gender equality and challenge preconceived notions about gender roles.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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This is the sixth part of a series of articles on the relationship between jazz and comic books. Go to Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 or Part 05

Comics and jazz were considered marginal forms of expression for a long time. However, they reached the 21st century with the status of artistic languages and are a recurring subject of academic theses and dissertations. Despite the different points of intersection between comics and jazz, to what extent has academic recognition caused a distance between the popular origins of these languages and the transformation of an audience of readers and listeners into collectors?

The recognition of comics and jazz as artistic languages by the academic community has undeniably elevated their status and led to a deeper exploration of their cultural and historical significance. As these art forms have become the subjects of scholarly research and academic discourse, the focus has shifted towards understanding their intricate connections with society, history, and other forms of art. However, this academic recognition has also raised important questions about the potential distance it may have created between the popular origins of comics and jazz and the transformation of their respective audiences into collectors.

On the other hand, the academic recognition of comics and jazz has indeed prompted a transformation in the dynamics of their audiences. While the popular origins of these art forms were deeply rooted in mass appeal and accessibility, their academic validation has led to a reconfiguration of their audiences. The transition from casual readers and listeners to discerning collectors has been influenced by the scholarly emphasis on the artistic, cultural, and historical significance of comics and jazz.

This shift has created a nuanced layer of appreciation among the audienced of comic art and jazz, with a growing focus on preserving and owning significant works within these art forms, altering the dynamics between creators, audiences, and collectors.

So that we can better understand what is at stake in this debate, let us first turn to the concept of cultural industry, a term coined by Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer. In his 1968 article, Adorno states that the cultural industry (…) forces the union of the domains, separated for millennia, of superior art and inferior art. To the detriment of both*

This thought-provoking statement encourages us to critically examine the implications of such amalgamation, as it raises pertinent questions about the intrinsic value and purpose of art in the modern cultural sphere.

The distinction between high and low culture has been a recurring topic in discussions within the field of Cultural Studies. Raymond Williams, a prominent British popular culture critic, addressed this dichotomy, noting that the so called “high culture” tends to remain largely unchanged over time (an concrete example of this phenomenon can be observed in the realm of classical music), while popular culture plays a pivotal role in facilitating the flow of information among diverse social groups, thereby engendering the emergence of novel and dynamic cultural expressions.

The word “flow” in jazz resonates with the interconnectedness of the melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic elements, contributing to the seamless and cohesive expression of the art form, but “flow” is a fitting descriptor for the organic development of the music, as well. It aptly captures the essence of a musical movement that is essentially born in motion and displacement. This fluidity is fundamental to the improvisational nature of jazz, where musicians dynamically interact and respond to each other, creating an ever-evolving musical narrative.

Applied to comic books, “flow” is a very useful concept for understanding the integration between visual narrative and the progression of the script and highlights the intricate fusion of visual and narrative elements. It is also crucial for the reader to semiotically fill the space between frames, completing the comic narative, but the aspect of flow we would like to highlight is related to the black diaspora and its influence on both forms of expression: comics and jazz.

Flow, in this context, has to do with a dynamic exchange of cultural, artistic and linguistic elements.

The fusion of African and European musical traditions resulted in several music genres that would become identity marks, such as during the formation of choro and samba in Brazil and Argentine tango, in the 19th century (as we will see in the last segment of this series of articles) and jazz in the 20th century USA.

Likewise, the influence of the black diaspora can be seen in comic books, both from a consumption point of view, given the fact that black audiences have been prominent consumers of comic books since the 1940s, as well as when it comes to the representation of the characters. In fact, the history of the representation of black characters in comic books would be a good summary of the history of racism itself.

Since the 1990s, the black diaspora has been given new meaning in the visual arts through Afrofuturism, which presents offers a way out of the marginalization imposed by European canons. However, with regard to the representation of the biographies of jazz stars in comics, in particular, the model that usually prevails is still far from ideal, and if it manages to go beyond the dehumanization of the past, it stil reaffirms tereotypes, reinforces victimization and the cult of marginalization.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

* “Résumé über Kulturindustrie” in Theodor W. Adorno, Ohne Leitbild: Parva Aesthetica. Frankfurt am Main, Sührkamp Verlag 1968, p.60-70.

** A Vocabulary of Culture and Society. Raymond Williams. New York. Oxford University Press. 1976

p.s. before you go, check this one version of the jazz tree. Beautiful, isn´t it?

THE LEGACY OF BLACK ANCESTRY: THE JAZZ TREE

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This is the fifth part of a series on the relationship between jazz and comic books. Go to Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3 or Part 4.

In this segment, we will discuss common aspects between jazz and comic books from the point of view of the context in which both languages were created.

As we saw previously, the new media launched by Alex Steinweiss, the designed covers of jazz albums created a high demand for illustrators, who were often also jazz musicians and used stage experimentation for their graphic work to forge the visual identity of the genre. However, these languages have even stronger and broader connections.

Néstor García Canclini, Argentinian Art History professor living in Mexico in his work Hybrid Cultures – Strategies for Entering and Exiting Modernity refers to comic art as an “impure genre”. According to the author, comic art is endowed with the same capacity as graffiti to transition between image and word, between the erudite and the popular, bringing together characteristics of artisanal and mass production.

Cultural manifestations generated at the points of intersection between the cult and the popular, which do not fit into what Social Sciences call “urban culture” are, according to Canclini, hybrid languages. However, the “marginal language” tag profoundly marked the history of comics.Still seen today as a type of “minor literature”, easy to read, made for illiterate people, comic narratives faced (and still face) a lot of suspicion and the same can be said about jazz.

Phillip Kennedy Johnson writes in his article How Comics Are Becoming Jazz:

Both industries [Comic books and Jazz] struggled with censorship early on, both art forms revolve around a small creative team, and both genres have developed distinct sub-genres, each with its own cult following. The similarities are many and significant, but one of the most striking is the reliance of both art forms on “The Standard” and on the artist/creator

According to Johnson, jazz standards have always been an important vehicle to disseminate jazz. He makes a very interesting analogy about what a “standard” means for jazz and comic books:

Go to a college masterclass by a jazz musician, and often you’ll hear them perform “All The Things You Are,” or “Autumn Leaves,” or “My Funny Valentine,” or some other antique show tune that every jazz student knows. These songs were popular before our parents were born. What inspires jazz musicians to play the same tired old songs generation after generation? A simple, well-constructed theme or chord progression with plenty of room for creative interpretation.

Go to any Artist Alley at any comic convention in the world. You’ll find comics professionals drawing and selling sketches of beloved superheroes, most of which are older than the artists themselves. After all these years, what makes the characters of the comic pantheon so appealing to writers, artists and readers? A simple but compelling theme with plenty of room for creative interpretation.

The standard therefore combines novelty with familiarity. They are the classics and literature and cinema are full of works that cross generations, always raising interest and (sometimes heated) debates. It might be difficult to think of jazz stars dressed as comic book heroes and villains (with the honorable exception of the diva Eartha Kitt, equally iconic in the role of Catwoman), but we can say that Johnson’s observations also apply if we think about how the great figures of jazz are portrayed in comic books.

Whether in fictional graphic novels inspired by the universe of jazz, or in the biographies of musicians and singers, the universe of the genre has a series of distinctive elements, repeated to exhaustion and which, as we will see in the next part of this series, created around the genre a aura that is both cool and dramatic.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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This is the third part of a series on the relationship between jazz and comic books. Would you like to start at the beginning? You got it! Go to Part 1 . Or go to Part 2

In the second part of this series on the relationship between Comics and Jazz, we mentioned the series of paintings from 1990, by American artist Gil Mayers entitled Jazz.

The work of Mayers is one among many examples that confirm that the connection between visual arts and comic books is a vivid, long-standing one.

Dutch painter Mondrian not only wrote bout jazz, he also painted it! He portrayed his impression of New York in abstract paitings mainly composed of vertical and horizontal lines in red, yellow and blue. New York City I (1941) is considered one of his late period. Mondrian uses yellow lines marking the bottom repeats. Difference in intervals represents the syncopation of jazz.

Mondrian uses colored strips of paper to create the composition, before painting them in oil. A similar technique to that used by Matisse to compose his Jazz series, from 1947, whose title refers to the experimental and improvisational character, typical of the genre.

Picasso, Mondrian and Matisse are examples of artists who, each in their own way, absorbed jazz or some aspect linked to the genre into their works. However, the relationship between jazz and comic books specifically tightened thanks to a small revolution that took place in the music industry, and a fundamental name in this endeavor was Alex Steinweiss.

Albums used to come wrapped in cheap paper until Alex Steinwess introduced designed covers. The use of the album cover not only as a wrapper, but also as a space that complements the main product, added extra value to it was a game changer. In other words, the packaging became part of the product, extending the consumption space of a vinyl.

By creating a new medium to be explored, Steinweiss and the pioneers in this task further strengthened the ties between graphic arts and jazz, and we will discuss more about the formation of jazz aesthetics. For now, I would like to cite one more example about the influence of the novelty brought by Steinweiss: 1968 Robert Crumb designed the album cover of  Big Brother and the Holding Company.

In this work, Crumb converted the album conver into a support for a comic book story, in which each member of the band, including vocalist Janis Joplin, are presented as comic book characters.

Beyond album covers, Literature often uses comic book narratives to represent jazz figures. In 2003, an entire collection edited in France of comic book biographies was released, and in 2021 Comics and Jazz also also the subject of an exhibition last year in Lisbon.

The intersection between jazz and comic books is a fascinating subject that has piqued the interest of many enthusiasts. The relationship between jazz music and its ability to enhance the mood and atmosphere of comic book adaptations on the big screen is a topic of discussion that continues to captivate audiences. One notable example that showcases this connection is the film V for Vendetta (2005, directed by James McTeigue). The use of jazz music in this movie effectively contributes to the transposition of the narrative from the original comic book to the cinematic medium, creating a captivating experience for viewers.

In particular, a memorable instance occurs during a romantic moment between the main characters, where a banned song, the jazz standard “Cry me a River”, sets the tone for a poignant slow dance scene. The haunting melody and evocative lyrics of “Cry me a River” intertwine with the on-screen emotions, enhancing the depth of the characters’ connection and adding layers of complexity to the storyline.

This incorporation of jazz music not only enriches the cinematic experience but also pays homage to the original comic book while adding a unique dimension to the adaptation., demonstrating the enduring impact of this art form across different mediums.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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This is the second part of a series on the relationship between jazz and comic books. Would you like to start at the beginning? Go to Part 1

American multimedia artist Gil Mayer, on his series of paintings called Jazz:

“I am trying to make it visually stimulating and aurally interesting. I like people to see my work and hear music. It is a testament to my creativity and my interest in this medium“

The spontaneous nature of jazz is often mentioned by musicians and listeners, but it was not always unanimous among its theorists. Among those who saw improvisation as a negative point is the philosopher Theodor Wiesengrund Adorno, one of the most voracious critics of the genre.

Between 1933 and 1953, Adorno published several articles distilling the purest hatred against jazz, even imagining connections between the genre and Nazism (!) (due to its supposed birth in military bands) and decreeing its end. Although Adorno, himself, backed down on several points, there is no denying that the philosopher, usually brilliant in his analyses, found in jazz a theoretical challenge, which he was unable to overcome.

The mistaken predictions of Adorno about jazz deserves to be highlighted in any list of basic analytical errors, starting with his rigid premises, completely inappropriate for his object (the disregard of the author for improvisation stands out).

When talking about jazz, Adorno sounds like an (excellent) pianist playing with boxing gloves: he hits the right one eventually, here and there, but, overall, the action produces a rather unpleasant result.

As a deep admirer of the Frankfurt School in general and, particularly a fan of Adorno, to the point of giving his name to one of my songs, I consider his articles on jazz as minor material in his production, with which, in fact, we will dialogue in different moments of our reflections, such as the famous concept of “cultural industry”, among others.

That said, let us move on to perhaps the first partnership between jazz and the visual arts, the partnership between Stravinsky and Picasso.

First of all, a few words on Ragtime, the genre:

Scott Joplin is one of the main exponents of ragtime, a genre that incorporates African and European syncopation. It should be noted that, like classical music, classical ragtime was based on a written tradition, being distributed in sheet music. Keep this information in mind, as it will be very useful when we talk about the importance of improvisation in jazz.

Stravinsky comes into contact with some of these transcriptions of ragtime music brought from the United States by his friend, conductor Ernest Ansermet in the late 1910s.

Later, in 1918, Stravinsky released “Ragtime”, a work composed for a small orchestra of strings, winds, brass and percussion, which cover ilustration was signed by Picasso, a friend of the maestro.

The work is doubly a reading of the Russian composer, both in the sense that Stravinsky knew ragtime written but not played, and in the sense the version of Stravinsky for ragtime incorporates elements of Russian modernity. For critic Lawrence Budmen, “Ragtime for 11 instruments” represents the uniquely personal take of Stravinsky on the new genre coming from the United States: “At once witty, dissonant and hard-driving, the work might be considered “ragtime with a modern Russian accent.”

The fact that Picasso illustrated the cover of the composition only reinforces the ties between jazz and the modernist avant-garde, which identified with the genre precisely because of its free character. Like Stravinsky, Picasso recognized jazz as a new field of artistic experimentation.

Almost a decade later, in 1927, Dutch painter Piet Mondrian made the relationship between the visual arts and jazz even more explicit in “Jazz and Neo-Plasticism”. As mentioned in part 1, in this series of articles, Mondrian argued that jazz and the then-new visual arts movement represented nothing less than movements. revolutionaries capable of dealing with the impositions of the new use of time and space brought by metropolises.

And the plot was just starting to thicken.

Be seeing yuo!

G.F.