#137: A Child’s First Visit to a Gallery : An Imaginary Graphic Short Story (An imaginary entry for The Faber/Observer/Comica graphic short story prize 2022)

Four pieces of A3 paper each containing an area marked out to form a page that will scale down to 150mm wide x 260mm high. 

Page One

The page is divided into four sequences of equal size.  

The title, “A Child’s First Visit to a Gallery : An Imaginary Graphic Short Story” is written in block letters in a banner across the top of the page with full credits.

The rest of the page is divided into three sequences of equal sized boxes with square edges.  

The first sequence shows a child and their parents (or only one parent, or other grown-ups, if you would rather) walking up to and into an art gallery, one showing the child looking up at Maman with a mix of fear and awe.

The second shows them entering its entrance lobby, where artworks can be seen, before showing a close-up of the child looking around and smiling.

A third shows the parents looking at a map before leading the child toward a display.

Page Two

The page is divided into four sequences of four boxes.  The first three boxes have square corners, the fourth in each sequence has round corners.  Each box contains a picture as follows:

Sequence 1, Box 1: The parents of the child point out an artwork.

Sequence 1, Box 2: The child looking at the Venus di Milo.

Sequence 1, Box 3: The child thinking to themself.

Sequence 1, Box 4: The Venus di Milo is seen, with arms, a milkshake in one hand, its straw extending up to her mouth, the other giving a thumbs up.  The child is looking up at her, smiling, a milkshake in one hand and returning the thumbs up.

Sequence 2, Box 1: The parents of the child point out an artwork.

Sequence 2, Box 2: The child looking at A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte.

Sequence 2, Box 3: The child thinking to themself.

Sequence 2, Box 4: A close-up of the painting, the child now in it and playing football with its occupants, who have removed their coats and are using them as goalposts.

Sequence 3, Box 1: The parents of the child point out an artwork.

Sequence 3, Box 2: The child looking at The Great Wave off Kanagawa.

Sequence 3, Box 3: The child thinking to themself.

Sequence 3, Box 4: A close-up of the print.  The wave in the painting is now a little smaller and the boat has moved to a safer position.  The child is riding the wave on an inflatable rainbow narwhal while the occupants of the boat watch with enthusiasm. 

Sequence 4, Box 1: The parents of the child point out an artwork.

Sequence 4, Box 2: The child looking at Sunflowers.

Sequence 4, Box 3: The child thinking to themself.

Sequence 4, Box 4: The child is giving sunflowers to one of their parents as they walk away (the painting can be seen in the background but now only shows an empty vase).

Page Three

The page is divided into four sequences of four boxes.  The first three boxes have square corners, the fourth in each sequence has round corners.  Each box contains a picture as follows:

Sequence 1, Box 1: The parents not so much pointing out an artwork but rather putting out their palms face-up and looking around to show this is the artwork.

Sequence 1, Box 2: The child standing in a room covered in white polka dots on a red background.

Sequence 1, Box 3: The child thinking to themself.

Sequence 1, Box 4: Child is sitting and playing in a ball pit, next to which is a box of felt tip pens.  The walls of the room are now plain red.  

Sequence 2, Box 1: The parents of the child point out an artwork.

Sequence 2, Box 2: The child looking at The Treachery of Images.

Sequence 2, Box 3: The child thinking to themself.

Sequence 2, Box 4: The child with a pipe in their mouth, blowing bubbles.  The painting can still be seen in the background but the pipe is missing and it now says, “Cette toile est vierge” and has been renamed #138 The Treachery of Words.

Sequence 3, Box 1: The parents of the child point out an artwork.

Sequence 3, Box 2: The child looking at an artwork chosen by you.

Sequence 3, Box 3: The child thinking to themself.

Sequence 3, Box 4: The child doing something amusing or strange with, or within, your chosen artwork.

A fourth sequence of four boxes all with square corners.  Each box contains a picture as follows:

Sequence 4, Box 1: Front view of child looking up at a gallery wall.

Sequence 4, Box 2: Rear view of child looking at a large space in between two paintings.

Sequence 4, Box 3: The child thinking to themself.

Sequence 4, Box 4: The child smiling to themself.

Page Four

The page is divided into two parts.  

The top three quarters are empty.  

The last quarter is made up of four boxes of equal size with square edges.  

The first three show pictures of the family leaving the gallery and walking back along the street, the three of them talking animatedly.  

The last contains, “The End” in block letters.

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If I was brave enough*, this is what I would have entered [opens in a new window, published via Google Slides, showing for one minute per page but you can press the down and up arrows to navigate] (but printed out on paper).  

* and if I didn't have more doubts about actually entering this competition than I had about entering the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition. It seems fine to me to enter almost anything into what is a more general art competition (especially when paying for the privilege) but to enter a (free) graphic short story competition with no pictures feels too much of a waste of the judge's time.  Also, I didn't actually finish this in time.  Maybe next year...

#026: If I was brave enough: An imaginary entry for The Jonathan Cape/Observer/Comica graphic short story prize 2020

Four pieces of A3 paper each containing an area marked out to a ratio of 150mm wide x 260mm high.

Page 1:

The title, “If I was brave enough..” written in block letters in a banner across the top of the page with full credits.

A box stretching across the page under the title banner reads: If was brave enough, I would have: 

The majority of the page is divided into two rows of four boxes, with the following contents:

Row 1, Box 1: Caption: Written the Dark Warrior novels… Picture: The Dark Warrior;

Row 1, Box 2: Caption: ...gone for the job... Picture: narrator at a laptop writing a CV;

Row 1, Box 3: Caption: ...to the interview... Picture: narrator at a panel interview;

Row 1, Box 4: Caption: ...gone somewhere abroad alone... Picture: narrator at the Eiffel Tower;

Row 2, Box 1: Caption: ...not stayed outside for fear of not being wanted... Picture: narrator as a child standing outside a room within which we can see children playing;

Row 2, Box 2: Caption: ...asked for help... Picture: narrator as a child raising their hand in class;

Row 2, Box 3: Caption: ...at least attempted to draw this or find an artist… Picture: split box of narrator drawing a comic / on phone speaking to artist friend;

Row 2, Box 4: Caption: ...or entered the unknown cave. Picture: narrator walking towards dark cave entrance.

A box stretching across the bottom of the page reads: And so many other things..

Page 2:

A box stretching across the top of the page reads: …the classic of asking someone out seems to be missing, right?  Well, many years ago I used to write “poems” I referred to as ramblings.  One, called The Battle, probably sums this all up quite well.

The majority of the page is given over to The Battle.  This middle section features, on either side, the narrator’s face in profile (with the one on the right being a negative impression of the one on the left).  Between them are speech bubbles containing each line of the poem (see below).  The text for the negative narrator, on the right, is in italics, the text for the narrator is regular.

Narrator: I’ll ask her out tomorrow.

Negative narrator: No you fucking won’t.

Narrator: I will.  I’m strong enough.

Negative narrator: You aren’t.  You spineless freak.

Narrator: I am.. I will, she’ll say yes too.

Negative narrator: No she won’t, why would she?

Narrator: ‘Cause she likes me… I’ve heard.

Negative narrator: You don’t even know.

Narrator: I do.. the looks she gives me..

Negative narrator: As if to say- I’ve never seen such an ugly freak.

Narrator: No it’s something else.. in her eyes.

Negative narrator: No, it’s repulsion, horror- remember, I see it too.

Narrator: Is it?

Negative narrator: Yes.  She hates you.  All women do.

It’s not as if you’re good looking or anything.

Narrator: True, I best not bother, then.

Negative narrator: Exactly, save yourself the pain.

Narrator: Yeah, you’re right.

Negative narrator: I know.

Underneath is written the date, “28/12/1999”.

A box stretching across the bottom of the page reads: That was 21 years ago, more than half my life.  Little has changed.  I can talk myself out of anything.  I will always avoid the unknown cave.

Page 3:

A box stretching across top of the page reads: It is the same for everything, my two sides face off.  Positive vs Negative.  

Underneath is a row of 6 boxes with the following contents:

Box 1: Caption: I see a good job and I think about it, Picture: Narrator looking at job ads in paper with thought bubble reading, “Looks great for me!”

Box 2: Caption: until I convince myself it’s not possible. Picture: Narrator with whirly/confused eyes with thought bubble reading, “No,”

Box 3: Caption: Then, either don’t apply, Picture: Same picture as Box 2 but with thought bubble reading, “it’s not for me.”

Box 4: Caption: cancel the interview or Picture: Narrator typing an email thinking, “I just don’t think I am ready…”

Box 5: Caption: enter it in such a tither I don’t stand a chance. Picture: Narrator at panel interview (like on Page 1) with a dark cloud above head.

Box 6: Caption: Even if just one questions unseats me. Picture: Similar picture to Box 5 with sweat rolling down narrator’s face and a question mark over his head.

Box 7: Caption: One lousy point.  Picture: Narrator in an interview feedback meeting crying on the outside, angry, almost fit to burst, on the inside.

Box 8: Caption: On and on, until I give up. Picture: Narrator sitting at a desk working, with the negative narrator standing behind him.  Each wears an identical contraption on their head with a wire connecting them - power is transferring from the negative narrator to the narrator.  The narrator himself is starting to become negative.

Box across middle: I need to break free again.  I did once before.

Box 1: Caption: Once, I fell for a colleague. Picture: Narrator with colleague at a toy shop counter, love hearts in his eyes.

Box 2: Caption: I asked her out twice.  By post. Picture: Narrator posting a letter with a love heart on it.

Box 3: Caption: Years later, we met up a few times for drinks. Picture: Narrator drinking in a pub with the colleague (no love hearts).

Box 4: Caption: On a night out, in a club, she asked me out (properly).  Picture: The colleague looking toward the narrator (in Box 5) saying, “That way you felt about me?  I feel that way about you now.”

Box 5: Caption: I told her I didn’t. Picture: Narrator looking towards the colleague in Box 4 saying, “Sorry, I don’t feel that way anymore.”

Box 6: Caption: Before that moment, my mind had been in a cage. Picture: A brain in a cage.

Box 7 and 8: Suddenly I was free.  Picture: An empty cage with the brain flying free.

A box stretching across the bottom of the page reads: For years I’d (inwardly) moaned about being single.  Now, it was my choice.  It took time for me to start doing something but, after accidentally stumbling into a relationship, a true thirst began, changing my outlook entirely, so that, when it failed, I found myself actively trying to start again. 

Page 4:

One large picture of the narrator holding a flaming torch aloft and striding towards the dark entrance of a cave.

Text in little boxes in the following order spiral around the edge, moving around toward the cave entrance:

I just need a torch - A flicker of hope - Warm, like holding a hand - It could just be some inner hope, ignited by a kind word - It could be help and support - but - with that torch in hand - it becomes possible... - a way to see - to explore - to try - the unknown cave. 

A box stretching across the bottom of the page reads: I have never been able to raise my hand.  That needs to stop. “Maybe it’s time for a change,” Neil sings to me.  Let’s see, Neil, let’s see.