On Art and Fandom

For the first time in about 20 years I went to a show Sunday. We used to call them comic book conventions, as opposed to trade shows we attended for work, etc., but nowadays this one, DragonCon, is referred to as being “multi-genre.” This means that it services larger fandom. Attendees range from comics enthusiasts to people who love TV shows and want to get an autograph from or a picture with a star to those who enjoy dressing up as their favorite character, or just the challenge of building an elaborate costume.

I approached DragonCon 2022 as a re-entry point into fandom - that culture for sci-fi, fantasy, and horror that’s every bit as enthusiastic as your hometown on game day. I was there for reasons both personal and professional. In the first case, I don’t celebrate my geekier side all that much, tending to stick to levels of music appreciation that border on making me a groupie. Sometimes I’m the same with politics. But on the professional end of things, I hoped to connect with one writer in particular whose work I’ve admired a long time. And it seems like I did. Bully for me.

Meanwhile there was the convention itself. I stood in a long line to get in, wrapping more than 2/3rds the way around an Atlanta, GA city block. There were people in some really great and, in a few cases, almost surreal costumes. The beauty of being a fan as opposed to an “appreciator” is that it’s unvarnished, unapologetic, and just on the fringe of unhinged. If you pay attention, it can teach you a lot about being human.

I always know there will be one artist I geek out about and I’ve mostly learned to handle that. How? I usually pass by their set up, take in what they’re selling, and plan to come back. When I do I start by joking with other people who are looking at the artist’s work in a way that’s complimentary. I also engage with any staff helping the artist, which is normally great as they are often creatives themselves. When time comes to speak to the artist I state plainly that I’m a fan and try to mention a couple aspects of their work that speak to me. On follow up I inevitably get discombobulated, at which point I explain just that. Typically I recover and I can complete the sales transaction. At this show that happened with Matthew Lineham (look him up) and he gave me some brilliant insights into the business side of his work. As a result, I now own a third print, this one specifically apropos to my move to Georgia.

I always feel bad for the artists who have passed their greatest popularity, whether they write or draw.

I’m always excited to encounter new creators, should something draw me to their booth. This weekend I met an incredible painter whose work was reshaped by a job working as a screen printer in Ohio. Right now he’s doing crowdfunding for two pieces of apparel using his designs. The clothing is too young for me, but his designs are marvelous.

Afterward I hit the art show and the “walk of fame,” where I did not engage with people from TV and the movies. Maybe I’ll write about why sometime.

These experiences, in only a few hours, gave me pause to reflect on what I like and dislike about fantasy and commercial art, and art for art’s sake.

In the art show gallery there were a ton of exhibits featuring work by artists who are undeniably technically brilliant. They capture light, have decent composition, and can design for depth. What most of them lack is feeling. Some paint brilliantly and will even endeavor to meditate on themes or concepts beyond the work itself. But even those often fail to create an impression on me because they don’t connect in an emotional way. I think it’s the same thing between me and musicians. I adore good composition and lyrical wit. But if it’s only affect I sense it almost immediately. An artist with minimal skill can accomplish masterpieces with ingrained passion. And maybe that’s what art is.

DragonCon was fun. I enjoyed catching up with Jenny Breeden and Sam Flegal, who are lovely people connected to my life in very ordinary but also fantastical ways. I walked past the biggest names at the show, maybe poking at their tables a bit but not engaging. They have plenty of people to rave and go ga-ga over them and I sometimes don’t even get it.

One thing I know for sure is that while composition and subject matter play a role, I was captured by a painting by Asian woman, of an Asian woman, who sat on a house as if it was a chair. Monkeys improbably pushed out from behind her to escape. The surreal arrangement, paired with the matter-of-fact figure work and blank facial expression made a powerful statement. To me, it was a dramatic portrayal of a human struggling with personal fulfillment. What it meant to her I didn’t ask. I regret that.

Art is a form of communication. Its ambiguity is priceless and its lost translation element is what makes it so human. When we speak “plainly” we often conceal our intentions and motives. When we create, we leave behind us naked truth. This part is why art is useful in therapy. When you create, really create, you don’t lie. Because that would ruin the catharsis.

I’m glad I went to DragonCon 2022 for all the reasons I never knew I would be. And that’s the beauty of getting yourself out there. You never know what you’ll find.

But you’ll always find yourself.