The Philippine Online Chronicles

Before Tim Hunter (of Books of Magic) came as a proto-Harry Potter, or Death of the Endless (from Sandman) arose to make the ankh a staple symbol among geeky goth girls, or John Constantine (from Hellblazer) made trench coats fashionable—even before the creation of Vertigo Comics, the DC Comics imprint from which these characters and stories came from—there was in the bayous of Louisiana a strange quiet creature called the Swamp Thing.

The Swamp Thing first appeared in 1972, in a stand-alone story in House of Secrets, a horror anthology then being produced by DC Comics. He later appeared in a series of his own, under the collaborative efforts of Len Wein and Bernie Wrightson.

The idea was that the Swamp Thing had once been a man named Alec Holland, a scientist experimenting on plants in the swamps. He (in typical superhero fashion) was caught in an explosion which transformed him into a hulking mass of vegetation with powers over plant life. Over the course of a few years (and a few writers and artists), the Swamp Thing aka Alec would go on pining for his humanity, seeking revenge on those who sabotaged his experiments, fighting the forces of evil and defending the swamp – everything one might expect from a plant-based heroic-type monster.

And then in 1984 a young British writer by the name of Alan Moore came along. Moore, whom comics-readers would later associate with comic high-points such as Watchmen, V for Vendetta and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, essentially revamped the entire series, launching it in an entirely new direction - a direction which certain comics still trace today.

Somewhere quiet…somewhere green and timeless…

(Another green world, Swamp Thing: The Saga of the Swamp Thing)

Moore introduced a distinctly literary flavor into the writing of this previously typical series, experimenting with story-telling, adding quirks to narration, and (together with artists like Rich Veitch, John Totleben and celebrated Filipino comics maker Alfredo Alcala) playing havoc with the paneling.

Coupled with this technical innovation was the creation of a mythology which gradually spread around the Swamp Thing, and the stories which would in bits and increments, stretch the limits of comics as a medium.

He started by turning the original concept of the Swamp Thing on its head. In "The Anatomy Lesson," it is revealed that the Swamp Thing was in fact, never a man. The explosion which supposedly turned Holland into the Swamp Thing actually killed him, and sent a shadow of his consciousness into the vegetation of the swamp, giving rise to the creature which only assumed it was Holland.

The Swamp Thing himself is only a tiny component of "the Green," the psychic world created by plants, and ruled by a pantheon of ancient former Swamp Things who call themselves called the Parliament of the Trees. From being a mere comic book monster, the Swamp Thing becomes a conduit to explore just how deep one can take the concept of "plant-themed powers."

The green body he walks around in is only a shell he can choose to disregard, or regrow from any kind of plant life anywhere in the world, whether from a cactus in the desert or slime in a bathroom pipe. He can travel into the Green as a mote of consciousness and arise anywhere in the world in a new shell (a sort of teleportation), or reorganize his molecular structure to stretch across miles of forest or moss life.

While expanding outwards, Moore’s story arcs delve inwards as well, into the psychological turmoil of the characters. Entire issues are devoted to the exploration of emotions like separation, bereavement or confusion over identity.

Issues like "Rite of Spring" explore the intricacies of the relationship between the Swamp Thing and the human being Abby Arcane (a relationship Arcane admits "is funny"). As a mark of their love (and a means to make up for the fact that physical copulation isn’t possible), Arcane and the Swamp Thing forge what can be loosely described as a psychic link, resulting in a sensuous, hallucinogenic sequence which melts away the strict forms and figures of comics characters, turning images richly fluid and panels perpendicular so the reader has to literally turn the book to the side in order to read it.

In the same way, the award-winning "My Blue Heaven" is an exploration of separation and solitude, trading the comics’ heavy green coloring for shades of blue. In it, the Swamp Thing finds himself lightyears from earth, on an uninhabited planet where he manipulates the blue-colored alien shrubbery to make simulacra of the people and places of earth – including a particularly convincing mannequin of Arcane, whose actions and voice the Swamp Thing controls. However, the Swamp Thing eventually realizes that he has only created the plant mannequins and mock buildings in an attempt to forget his solitude, and finds that he only deepens his own loneliness in doing so.

Part 2 can be found here.