SDCC – After the show.
Dear lord, is that one crazy event. Every night, I’d go back to my hotel intending to write something and instead I’d just pass out. But now it’s over and I’m safely tucked away at SFO, en route back home, so I’ll catch up a bit.
First off, a shot back across Barnett’s bow. If you aren’t aware, he’s guest-blogging for TTH throughout the Con, so keep an eye on that. In his first entry, he attributes to me the description of SDCC as “the Geek Prom” and claims it’s a “harsh” take on the event.
Bollocks to that, I say.
Here’s why:
1) It’s the “NERD Prom”, not the “GEEK Prom” (and, incidentally, I didn’t coin the phrase – it comes from the silver tongue of Uncle Warren). “Nerd” is a term of self-referential affection used by fans of things like video games, comics and serialized sci-fi programming. “Geek” refers to someone who bites the heads off of chickens or who views Linux evangelism as a hobby. I’m a nerd most of the time. I am not – except in moments of profound strangeness – a geek. And we know our own.
2) It IS like the prom – at least for me. Big, daunting, exciting, fraught with risk and potential. And you are generally expected to dress up in order to attend.
Having never been to SDCC prior, I can say that it worked out just about how most prom experiences do – it’s not at all what you expect it to be.
Let me say right away that from a professional stand-point, it was a great show. WAR looks great, the crowd was excellent, we packed the hall for Paul’s talk – it was a total home-run for the Mythic crew.
But as a lifelong comic nerd, it was troubling. Despite being a fan of comics for most of my life, I’d never attended a comic convention until earlier this year (NYCC), so my entire conception of what the world of comics was like outside of my personal collection of long boxes was… well… pure conjecture. To me, the folks who’ve created the comics I really love are like wizards or strange, unfathomable geniuses. They should all be rich, living in castles, hanging around with other geniuses doing the things geniuses do and – occasionally – returning to Earth to deliver more gems of creativity and joy to the drooling, plebeian masses.
So, in my head, the artists and writers who create great comics are elevated – totally unlike me due to their strange genius. They impress me more than athletes or actors or “media personalities” and so forth. I’ve met plenty of “celebrities” – heck, I met plenty of them at SDCC – and I’ve never really cared at all. They’re like me, but prettier. I want the creators I love and respect to live lives that are at least comparable to those people.
Thus, I found myself experiencing some sort of existential crisis when I approached some of them at the con. There were Paul Chadwick, Mike Grell, Bill Sienkiewicz, Stan Sakai, Sergio Aragones – TOWERING influences for me. And they’re all sitting behind folding tables, doing sketches and… well… looking NORMAL. I don’t know what I actually expected or wanted – probably something to maintain the sense of distance and specialty that seems appropriate for someone who holds a position of importance for me.
I realized quickly that this was just a case (as Barnett would say) of me being “profoundly broken”. I should have been excited that they were all decent, humble and approachable – asking to be referred to by their first names, smiling when they talk to you, generously posing for pictures and doling out sketches for fans. Instead, I found myself recoiling from the whole affair and sulking in the dark corners of the con, bemoaning the simple humanity of my idols.
It was a very Nietzschean moment, let me tell you.
I’ve been to Comic Con once, and that’s once enough for me, in a way. It’s definitely one of those “once in a lifetime” experiences and I’m glad you got to check it out.
As for humanizing your idols, that’s not unusual either. I used to work organizing anime conventions, and you quickly realize that your favorite artists, voice actors, and directors from Japan are, in fact people, and some of them are as excited to be around you as vice versa. One guest I schmoozed insisted on Chicago Deep Dish pizza. It’s odd seeing the director of one of the most popular anime series ever attempting to devour a slab of pie that’s just too large for them.
I agree it’s bittersweet, but at the same time, reassuring.