During my childhood, I consumed comic books excessively, considering the drawn reality to be more significant than the real world. Though I had favourites, the content didn't matter much as long as it was presented in panels and with dialogue in speech bubbles.
In my teenage years, I became more selective, developing an interest in sophisticated and political comics, often with artistic aspirations both concerning text and drawing style. When I started studying art in my twenties, I held onto this snobbish attitude, believing that art's main purpose was to convey important political or philosophical truths. However, as my confidence in expressing myself and my own interests grew, I gradually freed myself from this burden and embraced what we popularly call "lowbrow culture."
In this mindset, I went on a student exchange to London and stumbled upon a copy of Superman's annual edition from 1985 for a bargain in a comic bookstore in Notting Hill. Superhero comics weren't highly regarded at that time, and Superman was considered among the lowest. It was blatantly patriarchal, pro-American, and imperialistic, with clumsy and grandiose storytelling and anticlimactic dramaturgy. The artists were definitely not the most virtuous, and their names are mostly forgotten today. The annual editions were often of lower quality than the regular issues, which was highly beneficial from a lowbrow perspective.
However, it turned out that despite the poor storytelling and artistic quality, these comics had unsuspected philosophical and psychological dimensions. For instance, a comic depicting a woman who hates Superman. On the one hand he had saved her life, but on the other left her permanently traumatised.
The masterpiece of the edition, though, was "The World Without a Superman” (if I recall it correctly), where a cosmic council of blue-headed men visits Earth to determine if Superman truly does good in the long run or if his interventions hinder humanity's ability to take care of itself. They pose the question what the world would be like without Superman. This dilemma troubles the superhero, who, facing this predicament, does his best not to interfere in the injustices he witnesses, until one day when he can’t resist saving a Latin American youth who has been kidnapped by communist guerrillas. It proves impossible to remain passive to the world's injustices, despite understanding the wise men's proposition. Although the story certainly follows a familiar imperialistic formula, the conclusion of the blue men exudes ancient wisdom:
"We don't know if Kal-El of Earth (Superman) truly does good or if he merely postpones humanity's suffering. But he has started contemplating the matter, and that's more than good enough for now."
A conclusion I have found numeral reasons to refer to over the years.
Superman Official Annual 1985| D C Comics Inc | €25,99
Samuel Nyholm
ist Illustrator, Bildkünstler und Professor für Illustration an der Hochschule für Künste in Bremen. Er arbeitet hauptsächlich mit Cartoons in Form von Tuschezeichnungen, Animationen oder Installationen, die von dänischen Slapstick-Zeichnungen der 60er und 70er Jahre inspiriert sind. Er ist Mitgründer des internationalen Netzwerks für Künstler*innenausbildung Pillow Lava und hat, zusammen mit seinen Kolleg*innen Kati Barath, Annette Geiger und Olav Westphalen, das Center for Cartooning and Low Comedy in Bremen gegründet. Samuel Nyholm wurde 1973 in Harlösa im schwedischen Schonen geboren und lebt heute in Stockholm.
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