I’ve always understood that these books aren’t necessarily for me, but for that friend who keeps expressing interest in comics but balks when I try to hand her a graphic novel (this is a metaphorical friend for me — you, however, may have one). This friend is well suited to an anthology — if there’s something she doesn’t like, well, it’s over pretty quickly.

But I think within the past couple of years, series editor Jessica Abel and Matt Madden have figured out the voice they want these books to have. I do think guest editor Neil Gaiman did a good job with last year’s collection, but looking back, there was some of a sense of “Look at all these hip and cool indie creators!” about it. He made fun and thoughtful choices and I would’ve gladly given it to a friend newly interested in comics. I just didn’t need to own it myself.

In Alison Bechdel‘s hands, The Best American Comics 2011 (2011, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt), on the other hand, is a book I would absolutely own (as well as, of course, give it to my friend interested in comics).

I love Bechdel already, but she absolutely won me over in her introduction to this collection where she pointed out how few women these collections have contained (and calls herself out for not doing that great of a job on that part — there’s a chart and everything) and also points out she didn’t manage to include any black creators in this collection. I admire her willingness to show the shortcoming in terms of diversity of this volume.

I admire the diversity of selections Bechdel has picked. Yes, of course creators like Chris Ware and Jaime Hernandez show up here, but so do Kate Beaton and Gabrielle Bell, who both deserve to be included just as much. There were even some creators I wasn’t familiar with, such as Kevin Mutch and Angie Wang. As many comics that have passed through my life in the past year, it’s a thrill to see something new.

I also love Bechdel’s willingness to embrace and showcase the weirder side of indie comics, from Michael DeForge‘s grotesquely colorful “Queen” to the excerpt from Dash Shaw‘s Body World. Surprisingly though, the book never feels alienating or like there’s an attempt to be shocking. There’s definitely some dark subject matter and imagery, like Gabby Schulz (Ken Dahl)’s “New Year’s, 2004” and Julia Gfrörer‘s “Fear of Fire” but those stories are balanced with lighter ones, like Joey Allison Sayers‘ “Pet Cat” and Jillian Tamaki‘s “Domestic Men of Mystery.”

As all collections go, not everything here is going to appeal to everyone, but I think that’s partially by design. Still, Bechdel has selected comics that are both accessible and representative of where independent comics are now.

The Best American Comics 2011 is beautifully and thoughtfully compiled collection of comics. Forget about that friend you usually buy these collections for. Buy this one for yourself. (But then maybe let said friend borrow it when you’re done.)

Advance reading copy provided through NetGalley.

While I do of course consider comic art to absolutely be art (to me, it’s not really something that’s up for debate), I think Arlington Arts Center’s Party Crashers will change a few minds who think otherwise. It is an extensive look at comics-as-art with a number of notable artists including Jim Rugg, Dash Shaw and Gabrielle Bell. The artists featured here cover a diverse number of styles, from the refined to the cartoony to the experimental. It’s a wonderful ambassador for what the medium of comics encompasses.

Seeing these images and pages out of context hanging on the gallery’s walls is a thrill. Instead of getting caught up in the story or sequential nature of the comics, I got to spend time taking in the images individual. It is, of course, always fun to see original drawings up close and getting a glimpse into the creative process.

Downstairs in the center’s Truland/Experimental Galleries is a selection of artists makings abstract comics. Now I’m still of the mind that I don’t really consider a lot of abstract comics to be “comics,” I do think these images work really well in a gallery setting and I love that they’re included here. I enjoyed Andrei Molotiu’s animated pieces quite a bit.

While you’re downstairs, be sure to check out the comics children who’ve taken classes at the art center have made. They’re awesome and while I wouldn’t say they’re my favorite part of the exhibit as a whole, I do think they point to an exciting future for comics.

The exhibit is up Jan. 16, and if it’s at all possible — like if you’re within a reasonable travel distance and have the time to do so — I think it’s absolutely worth seeing. I know that it happens, but I do think it’s a shame that this exhibit it up over the holidays since I think most of us are booked up through the end of the year.

A companion exhibit at Artisphere opens Dec. 11 and runs through Feb. 13, focusing on fine art inspired by comics. Right now, it feels pretty unlikely I’ll get over there before January, but we’ll see.

Image by Dash Shaw.

I realized when I took my seat the only other time I’d been in that particular theater was to see a harp concert with one of my friends when we were teenagers (more or less — I think we may have been in college at that point. And yes, we went for fun. We were — and are — rather odd people). I liked that this theater — and the University of Richmond — was playing host to these sorts of indie comic-book types. You see, there are two Richmonds — there is the “old money” Richmond, full of Southern society types that go to the University of Richmond (which is a good school, don’t get me wrong, but it’s private and full of money) and then there’s the Richmond that gave us GWAR.

I’d say the theater was probably less than half full for this event (I didn’t count so I’m not going to give estimates, but there were plenty of empty seats) and that made me sad. Yes, I know it was a Sunday night in a sort of out-of-the-way place, but to me, these people are famous. I’m guessing much of the audience was U of R students, but I did see some that seemed to have sought out this event, including a few older people. I thought that was pretty cool.

This was probably one of the best panels I’ve attended. Yes, there was some awkwardness, but comic book people are awkward. I mean that with the utmost love — after all, if these sort of people were outgoing, they probably wouldn’t be making comics but be actors or rock stars instead. It took a while for everyone to settle in. Deitch, who is considerably older than the other three, was really the one to break the ice, and I liked his perspective. He’s pretty much seen and done it all.

One of the first questions focused on each creator’s creative process. both Deitch and Nilsen tend to write and draw simultaneously, while Bell and Larson write their scripts first, then begin drawing. Larson probably had the most methodical process — she said she definitely finalizes her scripts first before drawing (and she mentioned she hasn’t drawn anything since March, I believe, since she’s working on some super-secret adaptation right now. Sadly, she wasn’t allowed to announce what it was — she said “people will either love me or hate me for it” — but I have some of my own “wishful thinking” ideas of what it might be).

Everyone had pretty harsh words for the term “graphic novel.” Deitch said it’s “just another name for comic book” and Bell said she felt there’s now too much pressure on young creators to create longer works that they may not be ready to do. Nilsen said he knows that publishers want books but he thinks the comic format lends itself better to shorts. Pitzer, a publisher himself, admitted he does make money off books rather than single issues or shorts.

Likewise, while everyone had appeared in anthologies (or Pitzer’s case, published them), no one really seemed to like doing them. Larson said that while she contributed to Comic Book Tattoo, she’s not really a Tori Amos fan. Bell said that they helped her develop her skills but she kind of resents them. No one really knew how much people actually read anthologies.

I am probably a different case, but I love anthologies. I buy them quite a bit and enjoy them. I find them a great way to discover new creators. But I guess I can see how they may not be the best entry point for people who usually don’t read comics.

At the end, Pitzer asked where everyone felt the comic industry was going. Deitch mentioned that there are now editors specifically for graphic novels. Bell says that it’s gone more to a “book” market and away from the floppies. Everyone basically agreed that most still hesitate when it comes to reading comics and that it’s a learned skill. There is a way to go before people accept comics as legitimate form of media.

I didn’t stick around for the signing since I had to drive back to Arlington that night, but I will now track down works by both Deitch and Nilsen. Everyone was lovely and awesome and I’m so glad I got to go.

Lucky

I have often complained about indie comics all being about struggling artists writing about their own lives and loves while living in New York City. The amount of navel-gazing quickly gets tiresome.

Gabrielle Bell is different.

Yes, her comics are, for the most part, about her life as a struggling artist in New York City, but there’s a smartness and perspective to them that’s refreshing. Bell has a sense of humor about her life and isn’t afraid to make herself look bad.

Lucky (Drawn & Quarterly, 2006) is the first collection of her comic dairies. She tells entertaining stories about her boyfriend searching for an apartment (he tries out several), her series of odd jobs, and just the general ups and downs of everyday life. Her voice here is playful but honest and I felt I really got to know her.

Bell’s art gets more refined at Lucky continues. It starts out a little loose and sketchy and word heavy in the initial stories but then becomes much more defined and cleaner as she becomes more accustomed to telling her stories visually. She fills her scenes with a lot of people, and her skill at simple expressions at body language makes me feel like I was witnessing all of this first-hand.

Cecil and Jordan in New York Buy at Amazon.com

Cecil and Jordan in New York (Drawn & Quarterly, 2009) is less biographical and a little more ambitious. Collecting her stories from various anthologies, this collection shows Bell’s range. Yes, there are some stories about twentysomethings in the city, she does a good job at using her life as a jumping-off point to tell other stories. “Felix” obviously draws on her experiences teaching art to kids, but becomes a poignant tale of growing up and trying to make connections. “My Affliction” is a dreamlike tale that keeps shifting as it goes along.

While a few of the pieces here are basic, black and white line drawings, she utilizes color and duotone in others, and these give each of the stories here a unique feel. “Helpless,” in black, white and lilac, shows the meandering tale of the afternoon of two teenage girls, and the color palette lets it change from day to night subtly and beautifully.

I’m impressed with Bell’s range, both as a storyteller and artist in both these books. She has a thoughtful but powerful voice and I look forward to what’s coming next from her.

(Gabrielle Bell will be appearing at the University of Richmond for Graphic Details: Discussing Contemporary Comics at 7 p.m. Sunday, along with Kim Deitch, Hope Larson and Anders Nilsen. The panel will be moderated by AdHouse Books founder Chris Pitzer. Unless something very strange happens, I will be there.)

But he’s also done some comic-related things, so for no particular reason, I’ve declared it Michel Gondry Day.

We Lost the War But Not the Battle (Picture Box, 2008) is basically the sort of comic you’d expect from Gondry — a playful sense of “I’m making this up as I go” mixed with a kind of winking, innocent take on sex and violence. It’s the sort of comic a 12-year-old would make — or perhaps the sort of comic a grown man who named his documentary “I’ve Been 12 Forever” would make.

The plot involves four old friends getting called into military service (they got out of it originally by faking various issues, like bed wetting or being suicidal). Nevermind that one of them is dead and is now a walking skeleton.

They have to fight the all-female International Solidarity Army. It goes about as well as you expect (the title should give you a clue).

The art should be familiar if you know Gondry’s work. There’s a looseness about it, as if he was mostly just doodling these pages, but it keeps the whole thing light and fun. The color palette is surprisingly soft and muted.

I’ve read some reviews of this that found it misogynist. And I guess, if you want to see it that way, maybe. But to me, its stance on women is more “Girls are scary because they’re beautiful and smarter than men,” which strikes me as a very 12-year-old thing to think. All in all, it’s pretty ridiculous and goes off on this weird tangent at the end, as if Gondry realized he still had pages to fill.

It’s a fun thing for a Gondry fan to have, but the appeal to anyone else is probably pretty limited.

Gondry’s teenage son, Paul, also made a comic called Crazy Town (Picture Box, 2008). Unlike his father’s comic which reflected the perspective of his inner 12-year-old, this definitely shows a glimpse into the mind of a teenage boy.

While it supposedly follows some sort of rebellion against a dictatorship, that’s pretty much secondary to Paul Gondry’s weird drawings and penchant for let’s-shock-the-grown-ups ultraviolence. It’s very unpolished, each page packed with drawing and rambling dialogue. I know that makes it sound bad, and no, I didn’t think it was great, but there’s still something fun about it. It’s very free and seems to come from highly creative place where anything can and does go. As he gets older, I’m sure Paul Gondry is going to be someone to watch.

Tokyo! Buy at Amazon

Gondry also contributed “Interior Design” to the trio of short films that make up Tokyo! Based on “Cecil and Jordan in New York,” by Gabrielle Bell (who co-wrote the script). Moving the story from New York to Tokyo works nicely, as the setting reflects the isolation that Hiroko, played by the utterly awesome Ayako Fujitani, feels. Her playful optimism at first arriving in the city with her filmmaker boyfriend is quickly replaced by feeling lost and useless, represented by her transformation into a chair.

While in the comic, the character is just drawn a human in one panel and then a chair in the next, Gondry uses his trademark low-budget effects to show Hiroko’s transition. It’s a surprisingly profound — and a little horrifying. I like Bell’s comic, but I think Gondry’s film expands upon the concepts and communicates them more fully.

I want to see more movies (I know he’s directing The Green Hornet) and comics and really, anything else, from Michel Gondry.

This is probably one of my absolutely favorite music videos of all time. It’s definitely my favorite Michel Gondry video. (And my favorite Daft Punk video, for that matter.) So I leave you with Daft Punk’s “Around the World.”