Artists have always stolen. Since the beginning of time, creators and composers have taken and discarded from the people who have inspired them. Regardless of medium, throughout all creative intents. Only by taking in and studying the work of their predecessors, those giants of the field, will someone be able to effectively use their medium. This is Sergio Ponchione’s thesis in the graphic essay, “Memorabilia.” It’s the idea that supports ultimately a display model of observations and insights. It’s a spine not given anything to support.
Written and Illustrated by Sergio Ponchione
Translated from Italian by Diego CeresaPoised between reality and fantasy, Memorabilia is acclaimed cartoonist Sergio Ponchione’s wildly original homage to the legendary comic book creators who captured his imagination as a child. Weaving history, speculative fiction, and pure fantasy, Ponchione has crafted a visually stunning love letter befitting such towering comic book legends.
“Memorabilia” originally started out as a sort of mini comic called “DKW — Ditko Kirby Wood” in 2014. Sergio Ponchione was so taken with the concept and the idea, he decided to expand his essay into this larger book. That original comic opens “Memorabilia,” where a burgeoning cartoonist approaches Ponchione for advise. The Ponchione in the story goes over his artwork, says you’ve got potential, kid, then tells him to study up on the masters. The rest of the book evolves into an overview of cartoonists and comic artists Ponchione likes, each vignette delivered in a way that evokes their style.
And yes, Ponchione does a great job at mimicking people like Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko and Richard Corben and Will Eisner. During their segments, the character designs twist and stretch to conjure their individual quirks and techniques. Ponchione breaks away the panels to imitate their presentation and he has a strong sense of their individual rhythms. He gives us a double page spread full of Kirby-esque monsters. He nails the shading in Richard Corben’s horrific lighting cues. He weaves the page into Wally Wood’s blend of prose and illustrations. You can see all these influences and structures in the present day world of the story, from Ditko’s gestures to Eisner’s huge emotions. It’s clear that Ponchione loves these cartoonists because every line stands out as a testament to them.
However, “Memorabilia” is ultimately a frustrating comic. (Not just because it’s so filled with men. From the people it explores to the characters in it, it’s only men.) It inadvertently poses questions, then brushes past them. Ponchione doesn’t give much insight or exploration of the creators’ works. Instead, each segment boils down to, here’s this dude, he worked around this time, and I think he’s cool. The vignettes are an overview of careers and accomplishments but there’s nothing about the cartoonist. There’s little exploring what they really did or why they were important. Ponchione simply assumes we should know all this. The closest he gets to achieving something comes during the Wally Wood sequence, where Ponchione discusses Wood’s demons and how they played out through the work. Even then, he doesn’t try to get close to exploring how this might have informed his work or whatever.
At one point, the book goes outside itself. After the first 27 pages, Ponchione pulls back for a scene where he talks to his editor about wanting to continue forward with the concept in a longer format. There’s an idea, an awareness of what he wants to create with “Memorabilia,” but maybe a reluctance to truly dive into the work or the personalities.
This jumbles up the material, too. It might seem like he wants to explore the art, only to say stuff like, “It’s coming from space . . . the infinite canvas of his man stories . . . a canvas that crackles,” when talking about Kirby. Or “You need muscles to make comics.” He doesn’t offer insights — in either the script or the images he does present — to truly demonstrate what made them great. The book doesn’t explore how these artists blew the door off the medium in their own odd way. Other times, he talks about the personality, but we only get stuff like, “He’s naturally reclusive, the J. D. Salinger of comics,” or “He had struggles.”
Continued belowIn addition to all that, Ponchione never explores what these creators mean to him. “Memorabilia” reads like a check list of people who inspired him but they’re presented with little more than a shrug. It’s superficial. It’s afraid to find that emotional connection, which is insane because comics are such an emotional medium. And since it lacks that emotional connection, it feels artificial, sophomoric.
Because if Ponchione is going to devout all this time and energy to proclaiming and glorifying these cartoonists, you would think there would be something about their influence on him. Something specific and personal, some truth. The book raises these questions about what creators mean to us, about the division between their work and their personal lives. How can anyone hoping to join the ranks of comicsdom use their love of Ditko staging and Corben shading to make something new? When does it stop becoming a tribute and turn into a mimeograph?
In the story, this kid comes to the Ponchione character for advice, only to be given a superficial reading list with no true connection. “Memorabilia” fails to connect the importance of these cartoonists with their relevance to current artists. It provides a few images in a similar style but nothing that makes them come to life or inspire us. The kid stares at the works with wonder, but that’s not carried over to the readers.
This comic was designed as a testament but it turns into an empty tribute.
