Tomaž
Lavrič,
Stripburger 54 "I've been around for too long and I'm too good to be entirely ignored, but they still don't quite know what to do with me."
Interview
with Tomaž Lavrič
By way of a warm-up, a more
general
question. As a comics aficionado and a comic-strip artist
myself, I am
always interested in the reading habits of my “peers”. Can you share
with us
which comic book you are reading at the moment (if any)? If not, what
was the
last comic book you read? Well, I’ve just finally made my
way through your Gemma
Bovary. Great drawing, fluent narration, innovative combination of
comic-strip and literary text, a beautiful and faultless comic book in
every
sense, but… it’s not quite my style—it has too much of a flavour of
soap operas
and “women’s novels”. On the other hand, I read Wilon by Daniel
Clowes,
a typical coldly cynical, unpleasant, intelligent, mean and grievous
commentary
on the world, depressive to the core. Just the way I like it. What
else? I just
got my hands on Sitar’s Striporeki (Striphorisms); an
interesting idea
and a delightful realisation. Among yours, I liked the Čuha-puha
notebook. In general I tend to prefer “original” comics. Classic
serials mainly
bore me, I don’t read superheroes or manga. Well, to be fair, there are
a few
exceptional exceptions in every genre which I admire, but the vast
majority is,
alas, crap. Oh well, that’s not only the case in the field of comic
books. It’s known that you are able to
express
yourself using various drawing techniques, which you adapt to the
content of
your comics. Diareja (Diarrhoea) is, for example, highly
stylised,
almost reduced to symbols, while Ekstremni športi (Extreme
sports)
is extremely caricatured; for Novi časi, Bosanske basni
and Evropa
(New Times, Bosnian Tales, and Europe) (as well as some
others),
you have chosen a more realistic style (although not entirely!), Slepo
sonce
(The Blind Sun) flirts with abstraction ... I would like to know which
one of
these styles you feel to be most personal, most yours? In other words:
when is
“Lavrič most Lavrič”?
I am all
these things, which is sometimes hard to make people understand. I like
different genres, which require different artistic styles. It just so
happens
that I can draw them in various ways as well. I don’t know why, it
seems that
my brain is wired (or unwired) that way. Changing artistic styles comes
as
naturally to me as to a musician who uses the same instrument to amuse
himself
by playing a bit of Mozart, a bit of Metallica, and a bit of, hmm,
Avseniki[2].
The album where the
above-mentioned fusion
of styles is most distinctive, is probably Ratman. You created
it by
taking over the artistic styles of renowned cartoonists and their comic
books (Lucky
Luke, Alan Ford, Corto Maltese ...). But is this ability of yours
of
“cartoon imitation” really as boundless as it seems? Or are there any
authors
that are “untouchable” even for you (either because you doubt that you
would be
able to imitate them convincingly, or because of your immense regard
for them)? Ah, Ratman, that’s
already so far away. Yes, in
it I played around with the authors that I liked, partly out of fun and
partly
for practice. I somehow feel that, in order to truly sense the work of
an
author, you have to “take it through your fingers”. In the old days,
copying
drawings from the originals painted by old masters was considered a
standard
part of artistic education. Imitating anyone on a page or two really
isn’t any
kind of problem, since it is not necessary to imitate them perfectly,
it’s more
about feeling their strokes, getting their “measure”, and precisely
those
masters that you most admire are worth the effort—I couldn’t be
bothered with
the rest. But there are quite a few left that I could work on like
that. Enough
for one more album, perhaps. Parallel to your interchanging
drawing
styles, you also experiment with different (comic strip) genres: satire
(Diareja,
Sokol in golobica), humour (Ekstremni športi), detective
story (Evropa),
“slice of life” (Rdeči alarm), parody (Ratman, Slovenski
klasiki),
science fiction (Slepo sonce, Lomm) ... What is the
element, in
your opinion, that links your comic strips in spite of this variety of
styles?
Do you see a thematic (or other) linking thread running through them? Hmm. Quality, perhaps? No, I can
see the link in both
content and form very clearly, even with some overlaps, even though the
comics
really do form a very wide spectrum of genres. For example, I try to
include a
pinch of humour even in the most serious of dramas, and I hope that
even
through the wackiest humour the readers can draw out an element of
human drama. Which comic book, author or
event influenced
you so fatally as to make you “convert” into a professional cartoonist? Hmm, in fact there was nothing
“fatal”, no revelations
of any kind. I’ve always drawn, since I was a kid. I can’t do anything
else. It
is true, though, that there came a point in my life when I said to
myself: Ok,
face it. You are not a painter. You are not a designer. You are a
cartoonist.
So be a good cartoonist. After more than ten years, you
are returning
to one of your key works, supposedly also the most personal of them
all, Rdeči
alarm. What was the thing that (ultimately) forced you to expand
the original
story? Did the sequel just appear in your mind on its own (until you
could no
longer ignore it and had to put it on paper), or did you submit to the
pressure
of your fans, who were insistently cheering for that to happen? Both. This comic book has a
truly cult status—that is,
a small, but faithful audience, who have been hassling me for years for
a
reprint. Besides, I've always thought myself that the story wasn't
quite
finished and that it would be fun to continue it at some point, in real
time,
from a new life-perspective. But it's quite sad to realise that the
time
perspective in the comic book (events from the 1980s—narrated fifteen
years
later—and the second part, another fifteen years later, therefore now
2010) is
also the author's own time perspective, showing how quickly a man goes,
in a
few leaps, from youth through adult to old man. Brrr... It is widely thought that Rdeči
Alarm
contains a rather large amount of autobiographical elements. Can you
confirm
that? Yes, of course, that was my
time, my world, my
generation. And yet it is a fictional story—a biographical novel, let’s
say. And now a sub-question: have you
ever
seriously considered creating a completely autobiographical comic book,
as is
already being done by some renowned cartoonists, mostly belonging to a
more
alternative background (Joe Matt, Chester Brown, David B., Harvey Pekar
…)? Even though I quite like the
autobiographical comic
strip, especially when it is really painfully honest, I am not the
right man
for this genre—first of all, because I am a rather boring guy and
nothing
really happens in my life, but also because I don’t feel any particular
need to
subject myself to such exposure and detailed scrutiny by curious
strangers. I
feel that I can express everything I wish as efficiently and honestly
through
fictional stories, but in a manner that is more attractive and
comprehensible
to the reader. The protagonist of Rdeči
alarm, Jure
Krt, ventures again and again on a nostalgic journey to his “punk”
youth. He
did that in the first Rdeči alarm and he does it in the
sequel, which is
about a decade or more later ... Do you consider yourself a nostalgic
as well? In comic books, that’s a
necessity—it represents the
linking thread of the story. As for myself, hmm... I am nostalgic to a
certain
extent. Not for the good old days, since it wasn’t all so rosy, in
fact, it
felt pretty horrid at the time. But from a sufficient time distance
everything
seems nicer. Above all, it makes me feel a bit sad when I think of how
much
creative energy we had then and how much of it we wasted over nothing
... Some
wasted it all. But I guess it has to be that way; one sacrifices a few
fruitful
years on the altar of youth. As a matter of fact, we waste as much time
now,
lazing idly on the sofa, watching TV. By writing Rdeči alarm,
you made a
kind of “comic-strip homage” to the Slovenian punk scene of the 80s ...
But has
your view and evaluation of that scene changed in any way in all these
years
between the original and the sequel? No, it hasn’t changed much. I
think I’ve always had a
pretty objective attitude towards that era—that punk played an
important role
in my life, as well as for my generation, and our society in general;
important, but not crucial. That’s how I feel about that
historic moment: we
happened to grow up in a time when the grey wall around us seemed fixed
there
forever, while we would vent our anger by kicking it and pissing on it.
But
after a while it slowly started to crumble and shake, until everything
finally
collapsed in ruins. Of course it wasn’t because of us—but it was that
as well. Perhaps not entirely by chance,
a whole new idea was
born simultaneously; a new style, with new music, new fashion; a
catalyst for
the accumulated frustration and rage of a hopeless generation (or
rather, part
of a generation—the majority was boogying in disco clubs); a raw energy
that
gushed from the West, managed to claim its place even under communism
and bred
some first-rate bands and tunes even at home. The kind of tunes that
you heard
for the first time and they already changed your life, the kind that
made you
go—wow, that’s it, that’s exactly what I’m feeling! Powerful thing. Besides that, don’t forget we
were only youths—racing
hormones, school drama, first loves, and rebellion. All that is the eighties to me. How do you tackle comic strip
creation? Do
you follow a specific personal procedure (in the sense of script,
storyboard,
pencil, ink, …), or do you adapt the procedure to each new project?
How, for
example, did you tackle the writing/drawing of the “new” Rdeči alarm? When I’m starting off, I have a
few key elements, I
have a rough “skeleton” of the story, and I have a set framework
(format,
number of pages) and then I adjust these parameters. I find it helpful
to draw
the pages, reduced in size so that they all fit on an A3 paper, and
then I mark
down where approximately, and for how long, an action takes place. I
later
refine them, change them if necessary, add more and more details, and
when the
thing is more or less “standing”, I take it down to separate scenes or
to a
more reasonable number of pages, to which I later devote more detailed
attention. This means having a separate sketch for every column of the
comic
strip, in which you solve all questions regarding settings and
dialogues … When
I feel generally confident about the whole thing, I start on the actual
drawings and inking of the comic. I know it’s not by the book, but I
usually
race through more columns at a time and draw the key scenes first, or
the ones
that I feel particularly inclined to, and leave all the unpleasant
stuff for
later, when I can’t be bothered or when I really can’t avoid it any
longer. I
still change a detail or two or add something. I polish the dialogues
till the end.
And finally, all the pieces seem to somehow find their own way to
forming a
whole. Magic. I would like to know, what is
your
“safety-valve” when you get fed up with drawing? I used to have a pretty
effective method: I set myself
the task of working from inspiration—but regularly—every day. If I woke
up full
of ideas, I wrote scripts; if not, I went on to drawing the things I
enjoyed
drawing. If I felt particularly virtuous, I tackled the unpleasant
things, the
ones I normally couldn’t be bothered with, and when I really didn’t
feel like
doing anything creative, I rolled up my sleeves and at least tidied and
rubbed
out what I’d already done, so that the day wasn’t wasted. Such a
division of
work felt diverse and things progressed quickly, without boring me to
death. I
recommend it. These days, on the other hand,
having become old and
lazy, I just stop drawing and do nothing. I’m in neutral. The albums you draw for foreign
(especially
French) publishers, represent a part of your creative work less known
to the
Slovenian public. If I am not mistaken, the last one of them is Appoline,
which you created in collaboration with the scenarist Jean-David
Morvan. Could
you give us a little introduction to it? It is just about to be published
in Slovenia by Vojko
Volavšek (another Don Quixote on the domestic scene). It’s a, hmm,
thriller-drama. A kidnapper, a beautiful young woman, a stoical
detective.
Morvan is, after all, known as a pop-star scenarist. But … I won’t say
anything. (See following answer.) And how do you experience
co-working with
other authors (namely, scenarists)? Is it a refreshing change, to have
someone
else take up the “burden” of story-writing, so that you can devote your
energy
entirely to drawing? Or do you, on the contrary, prefer holding all the
strings
in your own hands? Hmm, I’ve got mixed feelings.
Comic books are really
hard work, and it is, in a way, just wonderful to get a finished script
and
half of the work is already done. The burden of responsibility is
smaller as
well (Lame idea? Lousy story? Low sales? That’s not my problem. I only
do the
drawing.) On the other hand, it’s very dispiriting when you get a
script that
sucks (and to an author, anything that is not his own work usually
sucks).
Sure, you tell yourself that you’re a professional and do your part,
but it’s
still a pain. And you ask yourself, whether it is worth spending six
months
doing something you don’t like doing. Yet again, there is the money,
the fame
and all that goes with this mini-showbusiness. And the funny part is,
when a
comic strip book like that becomes a hit, and you start wondering,
whether the
whole world is gone crazy or it’s just you that aren’t quite in the
right mind
… Bah. Speaking about your “foreign
adventures”,
what was the fate of Lomm? Lomm has
been dead and buried for ages. You need to know that the francophone
comic book
industry starts dozens of serials like that each year, and the vast
majority
that don’t catch up in a couple of seasons are doomed to be mercilessly
put to
death. And without any significant means for promotion, one soon gets
lost in
the crowd. Personally, I think it’s a pity, since I found it an
acceptable
compromise—a comic that I could have happily kept making for years;
commercial
enough and generally adequate for the foreign market at the same time.
But it
turned out that it wasn’t. Oh well. As opposed to the comics which
you create
for foreign markets, there are some that can really take up only in
Slovenia.
An example would be Sokol in golobica (The Hawk and the Dove);
in it,
you comment on the Slovenian political situation from two years ago
through a
satirical prism ... In fact, you do the same in Diareja; but
unlike the
latter, Sokol in golobica is constructed and executed on a much
larger
scale and much more lavishly, in complete accord with the genre of the
sentimental romantic novel, of which it is a parody ... Have you ever
wondered,
while drawing, whether it was really worth that kind of effort, since
the
understanding of its humour depends on the reader’s familiarity with
the
political scene of that particular time, and, therefore, could be quite
out of
date in a few years? Worth it, ha! Of course it’s not
worth it. But at the
time I thought the idea was so entertaining and provocative to be worth
the
effort. Even if it was only to be used once. But I would not do that
again now,
despite all the pleas from people who have no idea how much work such a
project
entails. At your recent retrospective
exhibition at
the Modern Gallery, what really stuck in my mind was the comic strip
which has
so far not been (entirely) printed … Part of it did, in fact, later
become
“Mister Hudournik” in Slovenski klasiki, but , as we could see
at the
exhibition, the story continues … Can you share with us (if it’s not a
secret)—what is it about? Is it a kind of project in the making? (And,
if it
is, are there any more drafts for future comic strips lurking around in
your
drawers?) Ah, that is one of the projects
“in the making” which
have been lying around in my drawers for ages. This one was conceived
as rather
“arty”, with an emphasis on the artwork, and, at the same time, as
quite slow
and long, so that I don’t even know where and how it could be published. And it’s hard to start a job seriously,
persist on it and finish it, when you already know that it doesn’t
stand much
of a chance. But one day I will finish it, out of spite! But I do have
quite a
number of such jobs, started and abandoned, which are now being left to
mature
and wait for their time. Do you work on any other
artistic projects
besides comic books and illustration? The comic strip is an artistic
style that suits me.
Any kind of comic strip. I also write humorous songs for Mladina's Mladinamit,
sometimes for other people. That relaxes and entertains me; I
like playing
with words. I'll have to write a book someday, as is fitting for any
literate
Slovenian. I would like to direct a film, if that was possible to do
from a distance,
from my sofa, without complications, crowds or technology, and with an
unlimited budget—so, in other words, I actually want to work on a comic
strip
that would come to life in front of me. In the last few years, your
comic strips
have seen some adaptations into other artistic media. Diareja
became a
theatre performance, one of the stories from Slepo sonce was
made into a
film, another one, from Ekstremni športi, an animation. Have
you seen
those adaptations? What is your opinion of them? Lovec oblakov (The
Cloud Hunter), the film based on Slepo sonce, is visually
fascinating,
but the director, Miha Knific, digressed so much from the template
(comic
strip) that I can't quite consider it as mine. (Except when it receives
awards.) The animation Zid vzdihljajev
(Wall of Sighs),
based on Ekstremni športi, is excellent—the characters and the
plot are
very faithful to the comic strip—practically brought to life. Dušan
Kastelic,
Igor Šinkovec, and team, well done one more time! It's just such a pity
my jokes
are so filthy that not even fluffy puppies can get them a place in the
regular
TV schedule. Diareja was
performed by the group Dejmo stisn’t teater (Let's Shrink the Theatre)
in two
different shows already—which were, apparently, rather successful, even
if such
current-affairs newspaper humour is very hard to translate into another
form.
But the real-life, actual “Diarejčki”[3]
in white overalls with different hats were, in fact, awfully funny. Bosanske basni might
also become a film someday. And Slepo sonce a feature-length
animation.
It is always a joy and pleasure to see my work getting a new life,
regardless
of the result. Oh well, of course it’s even more so when the result is
actually
good. A retrospective exhibition in
the Modern
Gallery, a nomination for the Prešeren Award ... It looks as if,
against all
expectations, even the motherland has “remembered you” in your own
lifetime. Is
your famous statement, “I might even become famous at home someday”
becoming
true? I've been around for too long
and I’m too good to be
entirely ignored, but they still don’t quite know what to do with me.
There is
no special compartment for comic strip in our cultural politics, you
can't just
shoehorn it in under literature or visual art. And, to be fair, it’s
largely my
own fault as well. The more I’m wanted, the more I hide. And in these
times,
when even astrophysicists, philosophers, and popes have to advertise
themselves... Comic
albums: Diareja
- "A smo se za to borili?!" (Diarrhea – “Have we been
fighting for this?!”), Fabrika 13, 1988 Diareja – "2. zvezek", (Diarrhea – “2. notebook”)
Fabrika 13, 1988 Diareja - "Najboljši so že padli", (Diarrhea – “The best have
already fallen”) Fabrika 13, Inferno
1990 Rdeči alarm – črni dnevi, (Red Allert – Black Days),
self-published, collection Cult
Comics, 1996 Ratman,
self-published, collection Cult Comics, 1997 Bosanske basni, (Bosnian
Fables) self-published, collection Cult Comics, 1997; (published
also in
France, Spain (Glénat),
Italy (Magic Press) and Croatia
(Fibra)) Le
Cavale de Lézard
(Larvae on the Run),
Glénat, 1999; (published also in Italy (Magic Press) and Croatia
(Fibra)) Temps Nouveaux (The New Times), Glénat,
2001; (published also in SLovenia (Stripburger / Forum Ljubljana and
Mladina,
2010) Le Décalogue – Le Serment, Glénat,
2001; published also in Belgium (Glénat Benelux, 2001), Italy
(Panini comics,
2002) and Germany Le Décalogue – Le Xieme
Commendement,
Glénat, 2009 Lomm 1 – 3, Vents d’Ouest, 2002, 2003, 2004 Evropa 1 – 3, (Europe
1 – 3)), Glénat,
2003, 2004, 2009; published also in Spain
(Glénat, 2005) and Croatia (Fibra, 2009) Ekstremni športi 1-2, (Extreme Sports 1 - 2)
Mladina 2001, 2009; published also in
Spain (La Cupula, 2003) and Croatia (Mentor, 2005) Diareja 1988 – 2002, (Diarrhea 1988 – 2002), Mladina,
2002 Slepo sonce, (The
Blind Sun), Stripburger / Forum Ljubljana and Mladina, 2004 Sokol in golobica, (The Falcon and the Dove),
Mladina, 2008 Slovenski klasiki v stripu! (skupinski), (Slovenian
Classics as comics! (various artists),
Stripburger / Forum Ljubljana and Mladina, 2009 Appoline,
Casterman, 2009 Rdeči alarm – druga
dopolnjena izdaja, (Red Allert – 2nd upgraded
edition),
Stripburger / Forum Ljubljana, 2010
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