Friday, April 07, 2006

Plato Platpus Version 4.0


So for my very first insight on my very first post...a new look for Plato? The little scribble is what could turn out to be a new look for an old friend. I've been drawing Plato the platypus going on 20-odd years now--since the 6th grade to be exact (the first incarcation of a platypus character by the name of "Bertram). Betram didn't morph into Plato until the 7th grade, when my father, the poet and professor that he was suggested I name the platypus "Plato." At 12 years old I had now idea who this "Plato" person was, but I knew "Plato Platypus" sounded good and the name stuck. It's safe to say over the next eighteen years Plato and I grew into each other.

There are essentially three ages of Plato: the very early "Bertram" years where he looked more like square-headed walrus with an odd orange protuberance, the second age saw Plat
o in high-school and college as he became much more platypus like (with a healthy does of Daffy), and the third age from college and into the "semi-pro" years as a daily comic strip online. Here Plato looked pretty consistent as the strip progressed for the next 5 years.

In early 2005 I decided to officially retire the strip to focus on Kid
Beowulf (much to the consternation of my fans--namely, my sisters). I had taken version 3.0 of Plato's Republic as far as I could; I felt burnt out creatively and the current administration was just too easy a target (too infuriating at that). More than anything though, what drove my decision to stop doing Plato's Republic, was that for me, it didn't feel very well defined as a comic strip.

Yeah it looked like a comic strip and read like a comic strip and more often than not it was a pretty damned funny comic strip. But it was just a "good" comic strip--it wasn't a great one. What makes a great comic strip? Everybody has there own particulars: funny/interesting characters, innovative storytelling, good writing, funny gags. These are all necessary components,
and Plato's Republic had all these elements. What the strip didn't have though, was a sense of place.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the strip, it's about a platypus named Plato and his troupe of post-graduate pals: Darwin (the dodo bird), Hal (the Y2K bug), Paul (the resident human), The Clone (a clone of Plato who turned into a sheep early on). The strip revolved around the "philosophy of pop-culture and politics" and was rife with gags about Dubya, the Red Sox, G
eorge Lucas, and "vague pop-culture references." And for five years we had a good time ribbing everything. The strips still stand on their own and they're pretty funny if I do say so myself, I'm planning on putting together a treasure collection (hopefully sooner than later).

But let's get back to this sense of place. The best works of art define the world that its characters live in. This is true for literature, plays, paintings, movies and comics. I can't think of a better established cartoon world, than that of Walt Kelly's Okefenokee Swamp from Pogo. Here was a place that was as much a character as the characters who inhabited it! Charles Schulz did the same for Peanuts and Bill Waterson did so for Calvin. George Herriman did it in Krazy Kat and Berke Breathed attempted to do something similar with Outland. The space in which these characters lived helped define who the characters were and how they interacted with each other; the place where they lived was an unseen character but perhaps the most crucial one.

I never defined the world of Plato's Republic. I had humans interacting with animals on an equal level--and even though that's common practice for strips nowadays, it still doesn't make a whole lot of sense. The backbone of Plato's Republic was supposed to be the great tome of dialogues that Plato (the philosopher) wrote, and on occassion I touched on it, but not enough that it really resonated on the level I wanted it to. Overall, the strip just felt disjointed to me, but it was running at its own pace on a daily basis, and never stopped for the overhaul it needed.

My hope is that one day, after I've finished al
l the books in the Kid Beowulf Cycle that I can come back to Plato's Republic and do it right. I figure by that time I would have learned enough to at least get the ball rolling in the right direction. Already my style has changed dramatically (so much so, that it's difficult for me to draw my old characters--my brain doesn't want to commit those same mistakes).

Today, when I was casually sketching Plato, this new version appeared quite easily and I could tell that even though Plato's Republic needs a drastic overhaul, there is still plenty of life left in the engine.

2 Comments:

Brian said...

Lex, I don't think your going to have any problems coming up with things to post on your blog.

Nice first post. I would love to see a picture of the old Plato and the new Plato side by side. Or just a link to the older version so we can compare.

8:39 AM  
Luke said...

It's interesting how the experience of feeling like you lost a sense of place in Plato focused you for world creation in Kid Beowulf. What you gave up when you decided to "jump off the cliff" artistically and let the platypus go so you could work on the new book was a complete sense of familiarity. Part of what was great about Plato was how well you understood the characters. And that's been the part I imagine you've struggled with for Kid B.

So it's nice to watch, even in the successive chapters of Kid B, how the characters (through you) have a clearer and clearer sense of who they are. Since you were already so focused on "where" they were, I think this is truly going to be a situation where each book gets successively better.

I'm really looking forward to the second book.

10:41 PM  

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