Stories From the Summer Komikon

Pinoy Pop columnist and komiks creator Macoy was at this year's summer komikon, selling his komiks at the Indie table, alongside other auteurs. He took the opportunity to speak to and profile some of his fellow creators, and the result is this series of articles, which provides insight into thelives and quirks of the personalities behind some of the most ambitious and exciting komiks of today

The Journey

Gerald "Majic" Asbucan sorts his stack of comic books into two piles, turns them around to face away from him, and waits. He sits at one of eight long tables arranged in a rectangle, with himself and a small crowd of fifteen or so fellow indie comics creators occupying the inside space, facing outward. It's around 10:00 am and the doors of the convention hall are just about to open and let in the first customers of the day. The artists look eager and a little apprehensive, as if about to go into battle, with the tables serving as fortification while their self-published minicomics--the work of their own hands--serves as their armaments.

If the efforts to revive our once-great Philippine komiks industry can be compared to a war, then this is the front line: Komikon, the Annual Philippine Komiks Convention. The tables where Gerald and his comrades sit are the trenches, and they are the soldiers: unpaid grunts fighting to win back komiks' lost glory, minicomic by photocopied minicomic. Or at least that's the dream. Right now, the best Gerald can hope for is to sell out the fifty or so copies of his two komiks titles.

It's been a long, twisting road to Komikon for Gerald, in more ways than one. He was born in Bagiuo, where he learned to draw and paint at an early age and quickly developed a love for US superhero comics. A recommendation in 1995 from Image Comics' Fan Relations could have landed him a job at the prestigious comics company, but he was later deemed too young for the position. By the time he reached an eligible age, however, life had led elsewhere. His family couldn't afford to wait for exotic dream jobs in foreign lands. Gerald studied to be an architect.

But the world of comics wasn't done with him yet. In 2009 Gerald took the seven-hour bus ride from Baguio to the October Komikon with copies of his minicomic, Gripo #1. In 2010 he relocated to Pampanga while shuttling between jobs in Baguio and Manila, yet that still couldn't keep him away from Komikon. He returned with an 88-page graphic novel, Curfew, which he was determined to sell at P50 per copy. He had bound the books himself by hand, using techniques learned from a younger sister who writes and binds her own romance pocketbooks.

I asked Gerald why he went to such great lengths and traveled such long distances for practically zero profit, and his answers pointed to a deep personal dissatisfaction. He said he wanted to make a statement about bringing komiks prices down for the sake of less-privileged readers. As he sees it, the current komiks scene—with its increasingly westernized content and rising prices—has turned its back on its popular roots, reneged on its obligation to return komiks to its position as a mainstream medium. On a personal level, he also feels that he has something to prove as an artist. He feels left out of the komiks community, describing a snub from a well-known comics group to which he had given his business card.

After Komikon was over I visited Gerald's homepage and discovered that Curfew had indeed sold out, and he was making plans to teach his low-cost bookbinding method to other indie komiks practitioners, possibly as a presentation at the Metro Comics Convention in August. He seemed cheery and hopeful, a far cry from the disgruntled artist I spoke with at the convention. I guess his long journey was taking a turn for the better.

Cursed by Comics

By any measure, Josel Nicolas is a rising star in the indie komiks world. His semi-autobiographical Windmills: Bearkdowns was a critical success and a bestseller by indie komiks standards, earning praise from the likes of local comics icon Gerry Alanguilan and Philippine Star columnist Ramon de Veyra. He's one of the very few indie komiks artists to headline a comics signing event at an actual comics shop. His latest work, an ambitious graphic novel adaptation of an award-winning book by Adam David, sold out its initial print run.

Yet in spite of all this, Josel regards Komikon and the handful of other annual komiks-related events with a mixture of excitement and dread. Why? Because since 2007, every single major comics gig he's gone to has been tainted with personal disaster of one kind or another. He's given the phenomenon a name: the "Komikon Curse".

Josel first met his soon-to-be girlfriend Mimi at the 2006 Komikon, and it was Josel's minicomics that initially brought them together. Future Komikons, however, wouldn't be so rosy for the comics-loving couple: the convention schedule seemed to fall in sync with the rough patches in their relationship. Lovers' quarrels would erupt on convention day, Komikon 2008, and again next year at Komikon 2009. Matters came to a head at the 2009 Metro Comic Con—the couple broke up in the afternoon, and Josel spent the rest of the day miserably (and unsuccessfully) pursuing his beloved ex.

That same year at the October Komikon, Josel and Mimi were on good terms, though not back together romantically. Things were going so well that Josel thought maybe the curse had gone away, but a telephone call later in the day dashed his hopes: Peppy, the kitten Josel had given Mimi while they were a couple, had died.

In November, Josel had an autograph-signing event at Sputnik Comics in Cubao. Mimi's new kitten, given to her by an aunt, became very ill the same day. Josel came over to help Mimi take care of it, but it died the day after. Josel buried it himself, wondering what the problem was between him and komiks.

It is now 2010 and Josel's streak remains unbroken. He and Mimi are officially a couple again, and he sold out his comics at this month's Summer Komikon 2010, but something happened that night to confirm that the "Komikon curse" indeed lives on. Josel won't give me the details, but he did mention that it involved a videoke machine and plenty of liquor.

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