Fame Responsibly

While in Japan about a year ago, I saw the entertainment portion of a newspaper sitting on the edge of an unclaimed seat. It featured beautiful camera-ready faces; women in costly designer gowns and men in fashionable suits, all making their way into a theater for the premiere of some Japanese film.

I didn’t recognize a single one of these people, and considered what ______ (insert name of favorite female TV personality) might look like to a community in Belgium. She may appear mysterious and wealthy, but otherwise a useless blip. Nobody there would care about who she is or why she is, just as I gave a momentary glace at these faces in the newspaper and just as quickly looked away, deleting any need of recognition for later use.

In a similar respect, I can’t help but consider the way I react to the authors and artists of comic books that I have come to respect and adore. I have described my feelings about these individuals to acquaintances, most of whom are half interested, and half attempting to suggest a new topic.

Like being stuck in line with a stranger who wants to show you their rock collection, I begin to sense that I too am rambling on, and quickly developing a disagreeable reputation.

All fans do this, and I am no different.

What makes a writer or artist famous? I suppose it’s the same thing that makes anyone famous: a fan base. When I was introduced to comic books, never would I imagine myself waiting in line to get one signed, hoping to have a short diologue of some kind, oogling at the sketches they made on the spot or sighing at their phrases during a panel.

However, here I am, reliving moments in my mind of various times at different cons. I am aware that I have entered a hidden world. The comic book community is like a parallel universe, just bumping shoulders with the real ones through the likes of actors, Hollywood, hotel parties and film interviews. However, the people who are involved with the alternate worlds that happen to share an apartment building with comic books will never really understand why I would wait in line just to ask a question such as, “Why is his name ‘Gus’, and did you choose a deer for any specific reason!?” And honestly needing an answer.

The more I think about it, being famous for your art, that you are entirely in charge of, seems like one of the most honest forms of celebrity that there is.

When people watch a movie that they really love, the immediate desire is generally to ask the actors how they felt in the role, what they experienced while portraying such a character, when it may actually be more insightful to ask these questions of the writer and director (or the set and costume designers for that matter!), since they are the ones creating the scenes that ultimately become a story.

Since you can’t ask the comic book characters how they feel, you must go straight to the source, to the creators. In this way, the comic book industry is, by default, much more fair than the film industry. Film writers typically get next to no public or financial credit (there are exceptions to this rule, such as Tina Fey) while the actors bask in the limelight. Here, in comics, we find that creative minds such as Geoff Johns, Grant Morrison, Jeff Lemire, and Matt Fraction to name a few are seen as…well, celebrities! You don’t say, “I wish I could ask Superman how he felt in All Star…” when Grant Morrison is standing a mere 15 feet away from you. Instead, you buck up the courage and ask the writer yourself. Fabulous, no?

This is, I suppose, why I sense a sort of pride while walking around any comic con. There are amazing artists and writers all around, people who I respect as celebrities because they are, in this universe I’ve found myself in, endlessly impressive, and simultaneously somewhat unobtainable and completely easygoing. There is no sense of “us” and “them” but rather a formation of an even stronger community.

It’s like kings who would lead their men into battle, as opposed to presidents who just watch it all happen from a safe zone. Instead of these people being idolized as gods among men, they are treated more as people who make others feel like gods. None of them seem to desire any kind of worship, either. Simply understanding.

That’s my kind of famous.