Who is The Sculptor? Scott McCloud, the “Aristotle of Comics,” Discusses His First Graphic Novel
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More than 20 years ago, Scott McCloud published Understanding Comics, a deeply considered exploration of the meaning and potential of the medium, itself written in the form of a comic. Since then, and coupled with the subsequent publication of Reinventing Comics in 2000, he’s been recognized as one of the world’s leading comic theorists, the “Aristotle of comics.” And yet, despite developing a few monthly superhero series, he’d never published a full-length, hand-drawn graphic novel of his own.
That changed with this week’s release of The Sculptor, a major work of graphic literature about a troubled young artist who makes a deal with Death in order to share his gift with an unappreciative world. On the eve of the book’s launch, we talked with Scott about what drove him to release his own creation into the world, how life inspires art, and what he wants his legacy to be.
[caption id="attachment_652" align="alignright" width="120"] Scott McCloud[/caption]
You’ve are best known for your non-fiction commentary about comics. What pushed you to create such an obviously personal work of your own this time?
This was a story I had in mind for a very long time. And, for a very long time, I’d wanted to come back to fiction so the two seem well made for each other. I didn’t want my career as a cartoonist to be nearly all nonfiction; I love telling stories, and I always considered it a bit of a hole in my resume that I’d never had the time or opportunity to sit down and try to tell one big solid story—a true “graphic novel.”
What was the genesis of The Sculptor? Did the story begin with a particular idea or an image?
When I was very young with one foot still in the superhero world, the idea for the power came to me along with the notion of a deal with death. I was either in high school or college at the time, and in a lot of ways, this is the kind of idea you would expect a guy that age to come up with. After college, the character of Meg entered the picture, inspired by this woman I was secretly in love with (and would later marry). Once the love story was in place and I knew how it would all end, the basic plot came into focus—though it would be decades until the finished book arrived.
Why did you choose to make the main character a sculptor? Did you ever consider a different form of expression for his work? (It does make for some great images, particularly later in the book.)
Since the idea of sculpting was there at the very beginning, I never really stopped to wonder if he should be some other kind of artist. But I’m glad I settled on sculpture in retrospect, because it’s very visual, kinetic, and challenging to draw. It also connects to this idea of solidity and timelessness which my protagonist is obsessed with.
Some of your past work pokes fun at superhero tropes, and The Sculptor definitely seems to tip the hat to caped heroes, from the title, to the character’s X-Men-like powers, to a joke involving Death telling him, “no crime fighting!” Do you see this as a superhero story of sorts, or perhaps a deconstruction of one? What would happen if a regular guy really did get powers?
It’s not a superhero story per se, necessarily, but accepting that there is some trace of superheroes in the story was important for me. I spent decades talking about how comics were more than just power fantasies—and they are!—but this one definitely started that way. The idea carries some of the DNA of the kinds of stories I read when I was a kid, and I needed to accept that and incorporate it. The scene at the beginning of the book where we see the hand-drawn comic made by our protagonist when he was only nine years old was a nod to that cultural heritage.
Is it just me or is the uncle clearly drawn to look like Stan Lee? If I’m not crazy, why?
I can see the resemblance and others have pointed out, but Harry is actually based on my late father-in-law, Lester Ratafia. I’m sad to report that Lester died only four days before this book was published. He was a great guy and we’ll all miss him.
The book is about many things, but what stood out the most to me was the conflict between love for creating art in conflict with love for the people in your life. How do you deal with that struggle in your own life?
My wife and I have adopted a “work hard, play hard” strategy. I work incredibly long hours seven days a week when I’m creating something like this book. But then, when the work is done, we travel together, giving lectures and workshops all over the country for weeks or even months at a time. It’s hard work but a lot of fun and, luckily, we really enjoy each other’s company!
The afterword talks about how your wife inspired “the girl in the hat,” Meg, but that the character also took on her own life. Is the whole book like that for you? How autobiographical is David’s interior struggle?
There’s a lot of my wife in Meg, and at least some of myself in David. I knew I had to be a bit ruthless in cutting out anything that didn’t work in the story; changing whatever parts of either character needed to be changed; but in the end, a lot more of Ivy crept back into the character as I was finishing the book and made the character a lot more warm, complex, and interesting.
Is immortality (not in the literal sense, but of your work) something you are thinking a lot about these days? In many ways, David seems to be dealing with a sort of existential struggle even before he’s given an expiration date, as it were.
I’m worrying less about things like that now. I suppose this book was, in part, a way of working through those concerns. And I guess it also helps that so far people seem to like it, so at least they won’t forget about it in a week and a half.
What’s your favorite image in the book?
A scene change on page 218. I like the effect of the overhead establishing shot, followed by a wide shot of the river, followed by two straight on close-ups. That sequence seems to work well. Of course you asked for only a single “image,” but you know me. It’s never just about a single image, it’s always about the sequence; just one picture after another, telling the story.
Barnes & Noble has limited quantities of The Sculptor signed by Scott McCloud.
More than 20 years ago, Scott McCloud published Understanding Comics, a deeply considered exploration of the meaning and potential of the medium, itself written in the form of a comic. Since then, and coupled with the subsequent publication of Reinventing Comics in 2000, he’s been recognized as one of the world’s leading comic theorists, the “Aristotle of comics.” And yet, despite developing a few monthly superhero series, he’d never published a full-length, hand-drawn graphic novel of his own.
That changed with this week’s release of The Sculptor, a major work of graphic literature about a troubled young artist who makes a deal with Death in order to share his gift with an unappreciative world. On the eve of the book’s launch, we talked with Scott about what drove him to release his own creation into the world, how life inspires art, and what he wants his legacy to be.
[caption id="attachment_652" align="alignright" width="120"] Scott McCloud[/caption]
You’ve are best known for your non-fiction commentary about comics. What pushed you to create such an obviously personal work of your own this time?
This was a story I had in mind for a very long time. And, for a very long time, I’d wanted to come back to fiction so the two seem well made for each other. I didn’t want my career as a cartoonist to be nearly all nonfiction; I love telling stories, and I always considered it a bit of a hole in my resume that I’d never had the time or opportunity to sit down and try to tell one big solid story—a true “graphic novel.”
What was the genesis of The Sculptor? Did the story begin with a particular idea or an image?
When I was very young with one foot still in the superhero world, the idea for the power came to me along with the notion of a deal with death. I was either in high school or college at the time, and in a lot of ways, this is the kind of idea you would expect a guy that age to come up with. After college, the character of Meg entered the picture, inspired by this woman I was secretly in love with (and would later marry). Once the love story was in place and I knew how it would all end, the basic plot came into focus—though it would be decades until the finished book arrived.
Why did you choose to make the main character a sculptor? Did you ever consider a different form of expression for his work? (It does make for some great images, particularly later in the book.)
Since the idea of sculpting was there at the very beginning, I never really stopped to wonder if he should be some other kind of artist. But I’m glad I settled on sculpture in retrospect, because it’s very visual, kinetic, and challenging to draw. It also connects to this idea of solidity and timelessness which my protagonist is obsessed with.
Some of your past work pokes fun at superhero tropes, and The Sculptor definitely seems to tip the hat to caped heroes, from the title, to the character’s X-Men-like powers, to a joke involving Death telling him, “no crime fighting!” Do you see this as a superhero story of sorts, or perhaps a deconstruction of one? What would happen if a regular guy really did get powers?
It’s not a superhero story per se, necessarily, but accepting that there is some trace of superheroes in the story was important for me. I spent decades talking about how comics were more than just power fantasies—and they are!—but this one definitely started that way. The idea carries some of the DNA of the kinds of stories I read when I was a kid, and I needed to accept that and incorporate it. The scene at the beginning of the book where we see the hand-drawn comic made by our protagonist when he was only nine years old was a nod to that cultural heritage.
Is it just me or is the uncle clearly drawn to look like Stan Lee? If I’m not crazy, why?
I can see the resemblance and others have pointed out, but Harry is actually based on my late father-in-law, Lester Ratafia. I’m sad to report that Lester died only four days before this book was published. He was a great guy and we’ll all miss him.
The book is about many things, but what stood out the most to me was the conflict between love for creating art in conflict with love for the people in your life. How do you deal with that struggle in your own life?
My wife and I have adopted a “work hard, play hard” strategy. I work incredibly long hours seven days a week when I’m creating something like this book. But then, when the work is done, we travel together, giving lectures and workshops all over the country for weeks or even months at a time. It’s hard work but a lot of fun and, luckily, we really enjoy each other’s company!
The afterword talks about how your wife inspired “the girl in the hat,” Meg, but that the character also took on her own life. Is the whole book like that for you? How autobiographical is David’s interior struggle?
There’s a lot of my wife in Meg, and at least some of myself in David. I knew I had to be a bit ruthless in cutting out anything that didn’t work in the story; changing whatever parts of either character needed to be changed; but in the end, a lot more of Ivy crept back into the character as I was finishing the book and made the character a lot more warm, complex, and interesting.
Is immortality (not in the literal sense, but of your work) something you are thinking a lot about these days? In many ways, David seems to be dealing with a sort of existential struggle even before he’s given an expiration date, as it were.
I’m worrying less about things like that now. I suppose this book was, in part, a way of working through those concerns. And I guess it also helps that so far people seem to like it, so at least they won’t forget about it in a week and a half.
What’s your favorite image in the book?
A scene change on page 218. I like the effect of the overhead establishing shot, followed by a wide shot of the river, followed by two straight on close-ups. That sequence seems to work well. Of course you asked for only a single “image,” but you know me. It’s never just about a single image, it’s always about the sequence; just one picture after another, telling the story.
Barnes & Noble has limited quantities of The Sculptor signed by Scott McCloud.