Of late, much of comicdom has been abuzz with the sale of the original art for the cover to Amazing Spider-Man #328 (by Todd McFarlane) for $657,250. Of this, I shall say very little. Suffice to say that the same auction house will be offering a small but similarly sized painting by Pierre-Auguste Renoir in November with a high estimate of $700,000. One presumes that this painting will sell for slightly more even if it isn’t the finest work in Renoir’s oeuvre.
Proceeding much more quietly over the last few months has been the gradual disposal of one of the finest collections of Gasoline Alley dailies in existence. The collection is not notable so much for its size (which while large, only numbers in the 100s at last count) but for the absolute significance of what they depict, their vintage, and their aesthetic merit. The auction house handling the sale has stated that all the art comes from the “Estate of Frank King”.
King’s skillful, light ink drawings can be found on modestly sized (about 6″ by 21″) sheets of aging paper with traces of stains and browning. The paper itself seems roughly cut from larger sheets and is frequently in excess of the requirements of the art. King gave individual titles to each daily, often writing these concise commentaries in cursive pencils at the top or sides of the finished art. Their importance relates to King’s working methods and his intentions. For obvious reasons, these titles aren’t reproduced in the recent Drawn and Quarterly reprints though the original art would have contributed greatly to the quality of that reprinting. The smeared countenance (in the reprint) of the “first Skeezix” strip of 14th February 1921, for example, would also be pleasantly rectified by the original art to that daily (which is soon to be offered at auction).
The more I look at Gasoline Alley, the more it seems to me that it is the kind of strip which is best appreciated the way it was originally intended—as a daily serial—and not read at length in the book collections which are undoubtedly welcome from an archival perspective. The passage of time is critical to the reader’s engagement with the strip. This can be easily appreciated if one considers that dailies acquired by a Gasoline Alley devotee like the collector C. E. in which we see Skeezix’s developmental milestones—from sitting (22nd September 1921) to standing (15th December 1921)—and his fateful meeting with his dog, Pal.
And if we treasure that moment when Walt finally gets engaged to Phyllis Blossom (the matriarch of a long line of Gasoline Alley characters)…
[Skeezix meets his brother for the first time.]
…it is only because of the couple’s long and chronologically drawn out process of courting, and the nefarious schemes instigated to pull the couple apart. The scenes of dark foreboding…
…contrasting with the almost saccharine, though not wholly preposterous, moments of cuteness.
While we may chuckle at these gentle scenes from another age of romanticism and worldly denial, King’s attention to detail is still striking. In the third panel of the daily above, Phyllis Blossom’s eye is subtly curved into an inverted U denoting delight and in the scene below where she is given her engagement ring, she suspiciously casts an eye out at the reader in the fourth and final panel.
***
I should add at this point that the acquisition of any fine collection of art has less to do with taste than with other factors. Far more important in the case of comics, is availability followed by price and financial ability. Only then does the collector face the question of taste. As far as Gasoline Alley is concerned, the choice (in the face of moderate financial impediments) lies between historical significance and aesthetic quality. No doubt the two often coincide in King’s famous strip but there are a number of instances where they don’t. There is nothing especially beautiful about the “first Skeezix” strip but it will surely be the most expensive Gasoline Alley daily ever sold when it comes to auction. Much the same can be said for the daily of 23rd Novemeber 1927 in which Walt gets full and final custody of Skeezix, one which I was hoping to acquire but missed out on due to a lack of stomach. The strip has little going for it in the art department but is pretty significant as far as what it portrays.
By comparison, if we consider the daily of 20th April 1926, we might say that there is almost nothing of significance being discussed; nothing except the fates of two black maids (for the uninitiated, the strip was hardly short of appalling “mammy” scenes in its early years).
Yet there can be little doubt that this is one of the most formally beautiful dailies that King ever drew. It is, of course, daring in presentation with little continuity in the backgrounds except for the impression of a forest. It is the two figures of Walt and Phyllis which push the narrative along, first proceeding down a path dappled with shadows, skirting the edges of an unseen jungle; then proceeding past the harsh vertical and diagonal lines cast presumably by a man-made structure; before settling on an Edenic scene under a tree.
[from the collection of Rob Stolzer]
There was ever this mix of industrialization and nature in King’s early Skeezix strips, the most notable example being the tour of various National Parks in 1921 in which King lightly played out the tension between the old and the new…
…and the concomitant change in values.
The words provide the context for this minor masterpiece in King’s oeuvre—a mild dispute which is finally resolved harmoniously—the interplay of emotions entirely carried by the workings of the forest light which flickers tentatively in the darkness…
…before reaching a kind of balance as Walt and Phyllis arrive at a domestic compromise.
And is it a coincidence that in this discussion of two working class African Americans, we should see the figures of the very white and Caucasian Walt and Phyllis turn from deep black to a variegated pattern of shadow and light?
***
But let’s return to the question of price vs. value which I mentioned at the start of this article.
While the sale of the McFarlane cover may seem a losing proposition as an individual investment, there is every reason to believe that the high price will be turned to profitable ends by the main players in this game—the auction houses and retailers who carry art of an equivalent “stature”. The rumor mill has not dismissed the possibility that the art itself will be sold quite magically for a profit in years to come, the highly manipulable art of price ratcheting now coming firmly into play.
In contrast, one of the famous Gasoline Alley “woodcut” Sundays—a masterpiece of the form—sold for just over $20,000 just a few months back. To put things in even finer perspective, if every one of the current crop of Gasoline Alley dailies (about 300 as of 13th August 2012) sold for $2000 (a handful have sold for more, most have sold for much less), the entire proceeds would still be less than the amount achieved for the aforementioned McFarlane Amazing Spider-Man cover.
Even so, this prime set of Gasoline Alley dailies, are very likely depreciating investments which will find it hard to keep up with the rate of inflation. The nostalgia value for these strips is almost non-existent, the collectors of these dailies being well worn and with at least a little toe (if not a foot) in the grave. The decision to sell at this opportune moment when the Drawn and Quarterly reprints have had time to settle in was probably wise though the rate at which they have been released is less possessed of the finest marketing sensibilities. And while it is excellent news for collectors that Americans disdain so much this small corner of their rich cartooning heritage, it does suggest that the greater part of this significant Gasoline Alley collection should have found a home in a comics museum the likes of which does not as yet exist. This rather than being scattered to the winds, bereft of the aesthetic weight of its size and the sheer breath of art, storytelling, and gentle humor.
Further Reading
Robert Boyd complains about the hopeless philistinism of the McFarlane purchase.
When I saw all those Frank Kings come up for auction, I bid on every single one. My bids were low–I assumed that would be quickly met and exceeded. And to my surprise, when the auction ended, I had won two of them. A friend of mine did pretty much the same thing and won one of them.
Despite the low price I paid, I will treat them as the irreplaceable objects they are. In my heart, I know they’re worth far, far more than the price the market has set for them.
Suat’s point about museums and comics is I think correct, and somewhat depressing. The truth is, there shouldn’t need to be a separate comics museum for these things. There’s just no reason that regular old art museum’s shouldn’t be interested in having these in their collections at this point. I mean, if decorative arts are museum worthy, why not Frank King pages? The reason why not is, of course, just historical/cultural happenstance and curatorial inertia. I wonder if it’ll ever change, or if the prejudices/habits are too entrenched at this point….
Noah: I’m not sanguine, but if young art historians study comics qua art–and good luck getting that past your PhD committee–then eventually they will have jobs in museums and have some pull in this regard. This, however,is a project for generations.
More quickly would be if wealthy benefactors of museums already collected comics art. Museums take their cues from collectors–this can be a somewhat sleazy, self-dealing arrangement. But I don’t think that is always the case. In any case, it’s been at the heart of museums for over a century. If some modern financial colossus has a yen to collect comics art, and some young Turk art historians have the yen to do the research (or simply to pick up the plentiful amateur research that’s just laying around), then you’ll start to see comics in museums that have an “F” and not a “C” in their initials.
That’s an interesting idea, Robert, re: the wealthy benefactor model.
There are a number of financial colossi in the comic art collecting hobby but they tend to set up personal museums for the most part. Huge collections of prime art tend to get dismantled in the time honored fashion of estate sales. The fate of enormous and important collections like that of Glenn Bray is hard to predict.
Ditko and Winsor McCay have made it into secure institutions but that’s a more piecemeal effort.
By the by, I wonder if there’s any truth to the idea that Gasoline Alley was the first soap opera.
Hmm…it could be a two-way problem then. Museums aren’t interested in comics…and comics collectors distrust/aren’t interested in museums….
Nah, if there’s any blame to be apportioned, I’ll put it squarely on the museums and their curators/funders. I think if a collector approached one of those musuems with the idea of buying over a great collection of Frank King art, they would be laughed out of the room. Why subject yourself to this kind of ridicule (and a condescending purchase price)?
Briefly, thanks for this lovely piece Suat (and your earlier writings on this topic).
I think the world of art history & museums is changing when it comes to comics. I’m just reading a doctoral thesis from a art historian on Winsor McCay. And there are some institutions with fine collections of comics, including the Library of Congress. It’ll take time but things are getting better.
Thanks for chiming in, Jeet.
I should state that Frank King and his estate should be congratulated for having the foresight to retain and preserve these 90 year old strips so well. King really did keep the best dailies for himself.
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Ng, if a collector came in with his collection of comic strip art and a check for a million dollars, many museums would gladly accept his donation and his “fine collection of 20th century American works on paper.” In other words, the collector can’t be you or me–it has to be a wealthy titan of industry or finance. It has to be a Rockefeller or a Menil. These are the people who found museums, who endow them, etc.
Jeet:
I think that’s key. Academic attention to comics has come mostly from English majors–who have no juice with museums and never will. But art historians do. Art history may be a difficult, low-paid, competitive field, but those that succeed end up having a small degree of power within the museum.
Robert: I hear what you’re saying but there are a number of people who collect comic art who could drop that million dollars and potentially donate their collections. They aren’t doing it for a reason. I presume mostly because they want the art and money for themselves. Furthermore, what kind of museums would these be? Would the museums in question provide regular space for an exhibition or would the art just be condemned to the warehouse? There simply isn’t sufficient prestige attached to donating comic art at present. And those monied individuals need a reason for donating (social status, ephemeral fame whatever etc.).
The donation of Amazing Fantasy 15 runs counter to this of course. But I don’t think the reasons for that transaction have ever been made clear.
I recommend Bart Beaty’s new “Comics Versus Art” to all you guys as he addresses some of these issues (and related matters). I’ll be writing about it here in the near future.
Ng: I think you are getting it backwards. The prestige runs from the benefactor to the museum in the form of money. I am admittedly creating a far-fetched scenario here, but in this scenario, the benefactor provides economic capital to the museum in exchange for cultural capital for his collection.
Obviously this isn’t going to work with the Met or MOMA or other very large, very well-established and very well-endowed museums. But America is full of regional museums. That’s where something like this starts. You donate to the McNay Museum in San Antonio or the Cedar rapids Museum of Art. And if you are giving a lot of money, you can attach all kinds of strings to your gift. Happens all the time.
Comic original art is valued absurdly in that it privileges single images of posing popular character/properties rather than quality narrative sequences that better express the purpose of the medium, and the business of selling it is devoid of integrity in that there is no system of provenance, as a result the trade in stolen work is enabled and even encouraged. And, the original art is not the object of comic art, the reproduction is the finished piece. Orginals most often represent no more than an incomplete or marred artifact of the process of making the art.
James:
All of that may be true, but a piece of comic art is also a direct physical link to the creator of that art. The preliminary nature of the piece is important but not fatal to its value for that reason. Also, in the fine art world, preliminary sketches and drawings are highly valued–and for good reasons. Process is important, and collectors, museums and scholars like to see process. I personally value very highly the blue lines and the marginal notes on original comic art.
Finally, as Ng said above, the way the work was meant to be read was in a newspaper, day by day, while it was being created. We can’t experience it that way. No matter how we experience the work now, it’s a compromise.
But that is true of all art. We can’t look a Manet painting of A Bar at the Folies-Bergère and experience the way a Salon-goer would have in 1880. That person saw a painting of contemporary life. We can’t see the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb by Hubert and Jan van Eyck the way a Church-going Belgian in 1433 saw it.
My point is, since we can’t experience the work in some ideal, original way, we should accept that and experience it in what other ways are available to us–through the D&Q reprint books, through originals, through scholarship and best of all through combinations of all three.
Andrei Molotiu addresses some of these issues in a reprint of his IJOCA article on comics OA as gallery art on HU.
Robert: I think in preference to donating art to a relatively unknown regional museum, sometimes the very wealthy simply create their own institutions and retain whatever glory which might accrue. Just like Bernard Mahe and his 9ème Art Gallery. I have no idea whether that museum is respectable (from an archival perspective) or not.
And I suppose the Charles M. Schulz museum is just about the best place to preserve Schulz’s art. I doubt if any other institution in America holds his art in higher estimation (or is willing to spend as much money on it).
On the other hand, I see what you mean. Maybe someday someone will donate a new wing to some reasonably respectable state museum just for displaying comics art. I’m not holding my breath though.
Ng. At the very least, well-heeled comics art collectors would have to start appreciating Frank King a lot more and Todd McFarlane a lot less before such a gift could hope to be considered respectable.
“The more I look at Gasoline Alley, the more it seems to me that it is the kind of strip which is best appreciated the way it was originally intended—as a daily serial—and not read at length in the book collections which are undoubtedly welcome from an archival perspective. The passage of time is critical to the reader’s engagement with the strip.”
Thanks for this passing observation, Suat — this made clear to me why I found the most recent D&Q volume such an unsatisfying read. Unlike a lot of the “canonical” strips, it doesn’t really benefit from being read in chunks and, to some extent, actually suffers from it.
Personally, I only own a handful of original pieces, none of them more than fifteen years old. But it was still mind-boggling to me how affordable it can be to buy work even from very highly praised artists, as long as they haven’t spent their careers drawing Spider-Man punching the Hulk in the balls.
I think just picking out individual episodes or strips from a year’s run might help in the appreciation of Gasoline Alley.
Would you care to name the artists who drew those pieces?
Actually, buying superhero art isn’t that expensive providing you don’t get art from the “A” list or from “hot” artists. Once you get into that territory, the prices can only be said to have increased at a rather rapid pace and into ridiculous-bubble territory.
Tony Millionaire and Jim Woodring were the two who really surprised me. They weren’t, you know, super-cheap-cheap, but I didn’t expect to be able to buy good pieces from them at a reasonable price (especially Woodring). I’ve also got one nice page apiece from JH Williams III and Rick Veitch, who aren’t in the same league but are still pretty good, and one super-cheap page by Ryan Sook via ebay (the rest were directly from the artists). I was surprised that Williams was selling pages from Seven Soldiers for such a low price, since that was a popular and mainstream-acclaimed project from an “A list” artist and writer. Go figure.
The silliness of the superhero “art” market surely plays some role in the proliferation of pointless splash-pages and all those drearily generic covers. Reselling original pages must be a good source of income for some of those guys — perhaps also why that part of the industry has been slow to switch to digital production?
I suppose, with regards the Seven Soldiers art, it has to do with character (as James suggests) and level of critical acclaim (not permeating the mainstream enough?). This means a Jim Lee pin-up will always sell more than something by Quitely on All Star Superman.
Presumably the Bat-family is more popular than any of the Seven Soldiers. The Batwoman ones are also formally more interesting pages. People who didn’t read the series were interested in them. Maybe the individual sales figures of the actual comics will tell the tale.
I think Tony Millionaire’s art can be reasonably priced but Woodring art can get a bit pricey if one takes into account the amount of exposure his projects get. Gasoline Alley dailies are cheaper than all of the above; the simple reason being that hardly anyone cares about Gasoline Alley.
You’re absolutely right about OA being a good source of income (as are commissions/convention sketches) but I didn’t know there was such a proliferation of pointless splash pages in the DC/Marvel stuff. Don’t read them anymore. Quitely has certainly hurt his sales by switching to pencil art. Same for Brian Bolland when he went all digital.
Are we talking about Heritage, here?
By the way, because of original art I’m glad that so few like what I like.
For the Gasoline Alleys? That would be Russ Cochran.
And of course, for collectors cheap OA is always best. Not so much for the investor-collectors who are increasingly populating the field. I wouldn’t have written this article if I thought it would seriously affect the prices of Gasoline Alley art.
I went to the Russ Cochran site. It was an obvious mistake to offer so many Gasoline Alley dailies at the same time. Plus: there’s room for improvement in their pr skills. I, for one, knew nothing about it… $1oo for a Gasoline Alley daily!?… Russ Cochran must be kidding!…
I agree that the blame here rests largely on curators. I would also add art historians and art critics. If they chose to do exhibitions, write articles, and publish books on comics, museums would be glad to have comics, and the market value would quickly rise. Thing is: there is no “glamour” to collecting comic books or original comic art. Forget “investment.” The social world is completely different, and as far as I know (which isn’t far) the two worlds rarely cross. Once comics can be converted into cultural capital for the rich, the whole art vs comics debate is over. Aesthetic quality, literary elements, cultural importance are really side issue as far as institutional legitimation and market value is concerned.
I would be curious to know what field of art history that Winsor McKay dissertation that Jeet read came out of. I bet the person was an “Americanist.” I also have a PhD in Art History via a dissertation on comics but that was allowed a) because I had a powerful, hands-off, and trusting advisor and b) I was in “Japanese Art History.” The problem is that “Modernists,” those who work primarily on the twentieth century (the century of comics), are probably the most narrow of all art historians. Someone in the Renaissance wouldn’t think twice about working on prints. Nineteenth century specialists often incorporate non-fine art in their social histories. But the “modernist” writes exclusively on “high art,” which is ironic given how the modern period witnessed the explosion of mass media and visual creative activity across media and industries.
So write to your local modernist art historian asking them to start writing about comics. The problem will be solved.
In the meantime, enjoy your fairly-valued art work.
“But the “modernist” writes exclusively on “high art,” which is ironic given how the modern period witnessed the explosion of mass media and visual creative activity across media and industries.”
I bet it’s not so much ironic as causal, or at least synchronous. When the barbarians are at the gates, you lower the gates.
Are you suggesting that modern art is a capitulation? The pope(s) going out to negotiate with the barbarians?
Ryan: “Aesthetic quality, literary elements, cultural importance are really side issue as far as institutional legitimation and market value is concerned.”
I definitely agree that this is almost always the case. And there are reasons to believe that the contemporary art market works the same way. Robert would know better. He did give the Hirst vs Klee (= McFarlane vs King) example. I do think that “glamour” and “investment” work in concert with each other however. But maybe the glamour comes first in most cases.
Not exactly. I’m suggesting that modernism is in part an effort to distinguish high art from popular culture.
Of course it is. It was a strategy used by artists since at least Leonardo’s “la pittura e cosa mentale” (or, more accurately, since an artist put his name on a work of art) to get social capital and get rich. It worked too because they were lucky enough to be able to count on a social class, the bourgeoisie, that needed them.
It’s doubly ironic since early modernists integrated bits of popular culture into their work…consider the newspaper cut-outs collaged into Braque and Picasso’s cubist paintings, or Kurt Schwitter’s Merzgebau, or those collage novels by Max Ernst. Or, on the literary side, T.S.Eliot’s quoting from Sherlock Holmes and pub songs in his poetry…
On this subject: just saw this morning the titanic Crumb show, “De l’Underground a la Genese”, at the Musee d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris. Talk about legitimisation by the establishment…
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Are you glad,now Suat?
Bought by the biggest Gasoline Alley collector of them all.
Great thoughts being bandied about here. I know I’m a year off the mark or so but I feel blessed by winning five or six Frank King daily’s. In Europe, well, Belgium particularly, there are several museums dedicated to comic art. Two in Brussels and one about an hour away, the absolutely incredible Herge museum. Co- designed by cartoonist, Joost Swarte, it is well worth the trip.
We have one museum, that I know of, the Schulz museum in Northern California. It is a beautiful little museum, built a few blocks from his home studio and basically across the street from his ice skating rink. Charles Schulz brought ice hockey to California from Minnesota. Mort Walker’s museum has always suffered from poor locations from Connecticut to Boca Raton, Florida, where it might turn up next will assuredly be a surprise. I have tried to entice many rock stars with the idea to create a Museum of Comic Art in New York City. The problem, is that they are not museum guys. They would rather store their collections than let them be seen in a museum environment. In recent years there have been a few wonderful exhibits of comic art in real museum settings. The problem as I see it, is for the public to understand it as a real art form, like jazz, uniquely American and international. With the amount of reprints that have come out, and that are scheduled to come out we are in a new golden age of classic comic strips. In regard to Comic Books, they are currently fueling most of pop culture. Whether it be, movies or TV or video games or novels. All while the monthly comics are struggling to maintain their audience. This is a bewildering situation. I look at the monthly sales and I am surprised at how the market has shrunk in the last ten years while the derivative markets have increased dramatically. Avengers is one of the biggest movies of all time, just look at the list of the biggest films, insane.
“The problem, is that they are not museum guys. They would rather store their collections than let them be seen in a museum environment.”
You do seem to be describing a very common situation. A number of the major comic art collectors are somewhat reclusive with respect to their collections for reasons of privacy, safety, potential resale value (the so-called fresh to market hypothesis) etc.
The superhero comic market is gradually dying. The comics will still be kept around as idea laboratories but if there is to be a growth area in the book/pamphlet trade, it won’t be in that genre. The concept of superheroes has simply found a better vehicle which just happens to be movies.
I’ve been having one of those periodic discussions with original art collectors about the future of the hobby and most of them agree that any (and that may *not* be any) future growth area is unlikely to include 21st century superhero comics.
An interesting side-note to this discussion is the essay by Robert Storr in Co-Mix, the catalog for the Art Spiegelman exhibit. Storr curated a show of Maus art for MOMA in 1992 (I think). It was the first time that comic art had been exhibited there as art (as opposed to inspiration for other art as in High & Low). He was apparently jazzed enough that he proposed to his co-workers in the drawing department that “comics” should have their own department in MOMA. He saw them as the equivalent of film–an inherently modern art form. Obviously that went nowhere, but it intrigues me that the idea was proposed by a consummate insider 20 years ago.