Peanuts was established as a staple of the comics page long before I was born. Indeed, the Christmas and Halloween specials were already expected viewing on their respective holidays by that point as well. Snoopy, for me, has always been in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The comic, for me and my generation, was not the revelation in comics that it was when it came out. Nor was it unique any longer. Ziggy bore many physical characteristics to Chuck, The Born Loser seemed to run into adult versions of the same problems that the Peanuts gang did, and Johnny Hart's various strips bore many of the (then) quasi-religious overtones shared by Schulz's work.

That said, though, Charlie Brown still stood out. He was the perpetual outcast that I could readily and regularly identify with. My Halloween costumes sucked. I never got Valentines. I was laughed out of the auditorium for not fitting in. I never had the courage to ask out the pretty redhead. I just could not seem to win. Ever.

Naturally, it was that sense of alienation that all children feel that Schulz was able to tap into. I'm more than certain I wasn't alone in my thinking. (I actually had a conversation several years ago with one of the most popular girls in my grade/high school. She was pretty, athletic, smart, talented, friendly... everyone liked her. But it turns out that despite being popular, she too felt estranged from her classmates!) What Schulz mastered was allowing us to see the pain of isolation and rejection, filtered through the printed page to make it more humorous. (Tragedy + time = comedy.) His drawing style was so simple that it was incredibly easy for readers to project themselves into the characters. What is Charlie Brown, after all, but a smiley face with a nose and ears?

But you've read/seen those types of comments in numerous places by now. Since Schulz's death, there has been plenty of artwork honoring/capitalizing on his work. I'm sure you've seen drawings of various superheroes drawn in Schulz's style. Or Michael Paulus' skeletal studies of Charlie, Linus, Pigpen, Patty and Lucy. Or the Peanuts crew drawn as manga characters. Jason Yungbluth's Weapon Brown, which recasts Chuck as a post-apocalyptic mutant cyborg. Not mention the endless Photoshop riffs that give the old strips new (and often off-color) dialogue.

But, you know what I find particularly striking in absorbing all this material? That I still absolutely connect with the originals. Those comics that feature Charlie Brown not being particularly funny, but making pointed statements about who we are, how we think, and how we react to the crap Life throws at us? I'll be damned if those don't get to me.

For that matter, Schulz himself got to me. When I was watching that "American Masters" documentary on Schulz from 2007, I found myself wiping tears off my cheeks towards the end. Not because it was a particularly sad story in and of itself -- although Schulz's death was indeed quite sad -- but because I could see far too much of myself in Peanuts all of a sudden. I could almost see that iconic zig-zag strip running across my shirt: the tread tracks from Life effortlessly running me over. (Crap, that's almost literal as I think about how I was actually struck down by an SUV back in 2017!) I saw myself paying a nickel for psychiatric advice from the closest thing I have to a female friend. I saw myself running towards that football and landing smack on my back, causing little physical pain but more than enough mental anguish to prevent me from even bothering to get up.

After work today, I'm probably going to have some leftovers for dinner and read comics for a bit. Probably play with the dog. Much like Chuck would. And maybe sometime over the weekend I'll watch A Charlie Brown Christmas and shed a few tears when I hear, "I've killed it."

At least, though, I'm not the only one.

Remember back in July when Comix Wellspring suddenly decided to "temporarily suspend" all of their work and stop accepting new projects? It caught everyone by surprise and no one was talking about what happened. The Comix Wellspring site itself avoided saying anything explicit about when they might be up and running again, and/or how their services might need to change. But I happened to check their website today to see if there were any updates and found...

That's about as final as it gets. A digital gravestone. The site's gone entirely now. The Internet Archive's last snapshot of the old site is September 4, so things appear to have gone dark in the just the past week or two.

My guess is everything officially closed at the end of July or the beginning of August. Former COO Brian Thomas has his LinkedIn account updated to say his tenure at Comix Wellspring ended in August and he's begun working at HH Global, a "tech-enabled creative production and procurement" firm. Most of the handful of other CWS employees I can find on LinkedIn list ending dates of July. I can only find one employee who still has CWS listed as their employer but he doesn't appear to have made any updates of any sort to his LI account in nearly three years, so I couldn't say that's necessarily current.

Heidi MacDonald ran a piece yesterday on the potentially large number of Marvel employees who may be losing their jobs in the company's impending move to California. Comix Wellspring certainly was nowhere near the size of Marvel, but for those individuals who worked there, the impact is the same. Whether they're one of a couple dozen or a couple hundred, they're most likely focused on their own survival and wondering how they're going to pay their bills now. Folks work in the comics industry because they love the medium, and the folks at Comix Wellspring -- all of them, seemingly -- have recently found themselves out of work. I don't know for certain that each and every one of them loved their jobs, but I'm sure that very few of them fell into it by accident.

Best of luck to everyone at Comix Wellspring and Marvel who find themselves looking for work now. The hiring market in general seems pretty stagnant right now, and prices on basic items like food, gasonline, and utilities continue to creep upwards. I hope everyone involved is able to land on their feet.

One thing I heard about my Webcomics book, which isn't exactly a complaint but I think caught some people by surprise, was that I spent a fair amount of time discussing the financing of webcomics. How people make money from webcomics. I felt this was a necesary discussion point for a few reasons. In the first place, it's a distinct differentiator from traditional comics. Historically, people were able to make comics by selling physical copies of the actual comic. You give the creator money (directly or indirectly) and they give you (directly or indirectly) a bunch of pages stapled or glued together with some ink on it to relay a narrative of some kind. But with webcomics, that transaction is out the window; that narrative is still given to the reader, but not in any way that transfers a physical ownership. The webcomics are offered up for free; there's no exchange of any sort to get the narrative. So how are webcomic creators able to afford to keep doing that over an extended period?

In the second place, because we collectively haven't figured out how to do that at scale means that webcomic creators have to handle that directly. A traditional creator today is often paid by a publisher or syndicate to create the work, and their business transaction can (but doesn't have to) end with that contract. After Steve Ditko turned in his artwork for any given issue of Amazing Spider-Man. he'd collect his payment for it from Stan Lee, and he was done having anything to do with the issue after that. He didn't sell it, he didn't promote it, he didn't license it. He was done. It was up to Marvel to print and distribute and promote it. If the issue didn't sell, that was because Marvel didn't do its job. Dikto was only hired to create the story. Same with any creator working on Spider-Man today.

Now, many creators DO indeed try to promote the books they're working on. More sales means they get more money, as they often get a percentage of the sales revenue. And if their work sells well, that means more publishers will pay more to secure their services. So there is an incentive for creators to stay involved with the work after its creation. But they don't HAVE to do anything, and there's not a lot of abstract account crap for them to go through. Whereas a webcomic creator HAS to be involved at every single level. They're not just creators, but they're also accountants and PR and marketing and licensing and publishing and tech support and...

Third -- and this is why I'm bringing this up today -- webcomics are judged less on their popularity but more on how much money they bring in. And that is frequently judged by how well they sell in print form. Some of the most seen, most popular webcomics on the planet make no money. How many multi-panel memes circulate online on a daily basis and receive no credit, much less any financial reward for them? Those aren't considered a "success." What's considered a success is Smile and Lumberjanes because they sold a bajillion copies after they transitioned from the web to print.

ICv2 is having a "Webtoon Week" this week (sponsored by Webtoon) and even in the couple days' of material so far, the underlying theme of the articles is NOT how good the comics are from an execution standpoint or how many readers each one has, but how much money they're bringing in. Rob Salkowitz's piece is all about how Webtoon can financially run their operation at scale. What their options are for becoming profitable. (So far, they are not.) I mean, even the short introduction article about Webtoon Week leads with how well things are selling in print. ("With more and more webtoon collections being released (including the best-selling Dungeon Crawler Carl) and a growing backlist, sales of print collections of webtoons are hitting new highs in 2026.")

It's all about the Benjamins, as the kids say.

Comics as a medium can be creative and expressive and really speak to people in a way that no other medium can. That's why I love them. That's why I've been writing this blog for twenty years now. But let's be clear, too, that any form of comics -- graphic novels, newspaper strips, webcomics, whatever -- need to be considered financially as well in a capitalistic society. They're simply not sustainable otherwise. We talk about printed comics in terms of their financial success -- how many issues of any given issue sold each month, what percentage of sales were from this publisher or that, what creators have exclusive contracts with which publishers, which publishers have what licenses... those are all financial discussions. Webcomics have proven they can be financially sustainable for individual creators, but no one has quite figured out how to do that at scale. Webtoon is trying to do that but, as I said, they haven't become profitable yet. No one else has either. And that's why it's still relevant to talk about webcomics in financial terms and that's why it's a not insignificant part of my book.

Marvel Dimensions is the latest among Abrams ComcArts' line of Marvel books. (I think that makes it an imprint of an imprint?) Ostensibly, the Marvel books are to be considered part of Marvel continuity, but this one is a bit of a question mark in that respect, which I'll get to in a bit.

The simplistic way to explain the book is that it's an extended issue of What If? in which the heroes are villains and the villains are heroes. Complete with a "here's what happened originally" before it gets to "here's how things are different in this story." However, that belies the more interesting/clever idea behind the book.

The book is, in fact, addressed directly to the reader. Not like Uatu's introductions/framing device used in the comics, but starting before and running through the copyright pages. As if the book itself is just a portal and you're being spoken to around the story that's being presented. And the "bonus 32-page comic" that promoted as being included is a story within the story of the book. Like you were handed a comic book that was actually produced in the universe you're witnessing. (A little like those "Marvels Comics" one-shots from 2000, where they published comics that were supposed to be like the ones actually published within the Marvel Universe.) So the whole book has this very cool metatextual vibe to it, where you as the reader are almost part of the story itself.

There are couple things I can tell you that should be no surprise because it's by Alex Ross. First, it's wonderfully illustrated. The artwork itself is gorgeous. Second, there are a lot of Easter Eggs available for old school fans. Homages to specific pieces of art, and just oblique nods in some of the modified costumes and such. If you're a fan of Ross' art for either of those reasons, you'll not be disappointed.

However, as lovely as his art is and as cool as the concept is, there're some notable flaws in the execution. The first he spends nearly half the book with very repetitive origin recaps. Two pages per hero/group, narrated by a sidekick or "lesser" (by 1960s standards) character. The original Human Torch, Namor, Captain America, the Fantastic Four, the Hulk, Thor, Spider-Man, Ant-Man & the Wasp, Iron Man, the X-Men, the Avengers, Dr. Strange, Daredevil, Black Widow, Silver Surfer, Black Panther, Wolverine, Phoenix, and Dr. Doom. The exact same format, over and over and over. Nearly the whole first half of the book. They're all very nicely done, but he doesn't add anything to the origins that hasn't been covered a hundred times already and, coupled with the recurring format, it gets really, really monotonous. Somewhere around the X-Men or Avengers, I seriously considered just putting the book down altogether. If you were a fan of one of those characters, and had their spread as a poster, that could be cool but as a series of vignettes? No, thanks.

The other problem is that, even setting aside the extremely long introduction, there's no real story here. There's some character bits to show you how many of the characters are different from their original, and many of those are interesting, but they're not even vignettes. Just a couple of lines of dialogue or a couple panels of action. Spider-Man and Professor X probably get the most extended 'treatment' by way of that comic-within-a-comic bit, but most of the characters get as much focus as their origins earlier in the book. There's a set-up for an "Secret War" type of story, but we never get that. A battle starts and we end on some more meta-speaking-to-the-reader stuff, leaving mid-fight.

The "evil doppleganger" idea is hardly new. That's even acknowledged in the book itself. But you need to do something with that idea, not just leave it sit there for the readers to sort out. This feels like the concept from an adventure module for the old Marvel Superheroes Role-Playing Game from TSR back in the day. We get the set-up and we're in charge of the telling the story, but it's up to the players to play out the actual adventure. It's not the module booklet itself that it was fun; it was in seeing the story actually play out with your friends around a table covered in dice and chips and Mt Dew. And we're missing that part in Marvel Dimensions.

The book came out a couple weeks ago from Abrams ComicArts, so it should be readily available from your favorite bookstore. It retails in hardcover for $29.99 US.

Here are this week's links to what I've had published recently...

Kleefeld on Comics: A Special Labor Day Thank You To Comic Creators
https://ift.tt/NR2G7Fi

Kleefeld on Comics: Rocketeer The Island Review
https://ift.tt/sH7fkIE

Kleefeld on Comics: Billy's Line
https://ift.tt/YlSzMXO

Kleefeld on Comics: The Speed of AI Comics
https://ift.tt/8D0HqZN

Kleefeld on Comics: Because...
https://ift.tt/CvZ5uxz

Today, of course, is the 25th anniversary of the attacks on World Trade Center. For many people, myself included, it's one of the significant markers in their lives. There's "before 9/11" and "after 9/11." I don't need to tell you that; most of my audience is well old enough to remember.

There were a number of charity books put together in the wake of the event with proceeds going to fire fighters and the families of those killed and such. Most of the comics versions did things to cast first responders in superheroic light. Some were quite moving. However, the one piece that stood out to me at the time -- and continues to stand out to me to this day -- was a short, two-page piece by Jon 'Bean' Hastings in which he talks about why it's important to continue to tell goofy stories about superheroes and space aliens and magic wizards and all that. Particularly in light of the past year and a half, I find myself continuing to refer back to it...

A few years ago, I reached out to Hastings and was able to buy the originals from him. I was a little surprised he still had them after 15 or 20 years or whatever it'd been. Most of the time, when I'm interested in picking up a piece of original comics art, there's a strong element of seeing the craft that went into it. The ink smudges that got digitally removed, the pencil marks that were erased but still left a slight indention in the paper, the additional piece of paper physically taped to the art board with a significant portion of the art completely redrawn on top of it... But with Hastings' piece here, it's presented pretty much exactly as he drew it. Setting aside the powerful and concise message he has here, it's just an exceptional piece that really leans into the physical craft of making comics. This kind of approach does show up from time to time in other comics, but rarely is it handled so elegantly, pretty much precisely and evenly breaking down the art process forward and back. What shows up on the art boards doesn't look any different than what wound up getting published in this instance.

Much of the original art I own has some emotional meaning for me. It comes from a particularly powerful story that I love, or the particular craftsmanship on display really strikes me as impressive, or it acts as a reminder of when I met and talked with a particular artist at a convention or something. These pages, I believe, though, are the only ones I have that do all of that. Hastings never really made it big in comics (Ironically, it was this very piece that got him set up with some connections to do other types of gigs. He mostly works as a photographer now) so he's not well-known and this particular piece wasn't as widely distributed as the memorial books by Marvel and DC. So I bring it out not infrequently because it's a great piece with an incredible and powerful message that people need to be reminded of.

Particularly on a day like today when many people are mourning both the lives lost (both in the initial attacks as well as the years-long aftermath) but also the loss of the types of lives we Americans are no longer able to lead. It's 9/11 that very directly led to the creation of the Department of Homeland Security and ICE and the TSA. All this <<< waves at everything >>> comes through a direct line from 9/11. So I bring this piece back to the fore repeatedly. To remind people why stories matter. Why art matters. Even in the face of everything awful that we're forced to bear witness to every day.

I just stumbled across this post I made back in 2021. It refers to a research paper in which scientists were able to create AI comics by feeding it some video footage, and then the computer would identify "key" frames to use as panels, and apply word balloons as appropriate based on the spoken dialogue. The resulting comics weren't great, of course, but made for some serviceable materials that could be an alternative to the actual video. I likened the idea to "video novels" of the 1970s that basically created the same thing, but had to be done manually and, thus, were financially impractical from a production perspective once commercial home video became commonplace in the 1980s.

Today, of course, we have tools available in which you can type in a sentence or two prompt and have an entire story generated. It's already been fed scripts and photos and video footage of all sorts of media, so you don't necessarily have to provide a specific video that you want to make into a comic. And it's not limited to specifically what's in any one video either, able to combine elements from other sources it's been previously given. The resulting comics still aren't great, but are usually cohesive enough that you can get an idea across.

I'm not going to get into the ethics of all those other materials being essentially stolen to create modern AI materials. I'm not going to get into the huge resource drain creating AI material this way is. I'm not going to get into the psychological impact of relying on AI instead of your own brain to work through ideas. You've heard all those arguements already, and I'm not going to be able to add anything new to those discussions.

No, the point I want to bring up is the date of that older post I mentioned: March 8, 2021. Five years ago. Five years ago, "AI-created comics" was highly technical research conducted by a small handful of scientists at a couple academic institutions. The stuff of research papers. Two years later, comics were able to be made commercially by AI, but still required a lot of trial and error. (Though the comic was written/published in 2023, I reviewed The Last Survivors in 2024.) Today, you can get more more cohesive, consistent results with less direct intervention or manual manipulation.

Five years ago, creators were absolutely not thinking about their hand-crafted work being used without their permission to create slop because it was simply not on anyone's radar. Five years ago, "AI comics" was the subject of an obscure research paper. If you're wondering why it feels like AI is being shoved down everyone's throat faster than any product ever, that's because it is.