Chapter 3
Abstract: Structural look at the similar characteristics found in comic books and folktales, begin to define and apply Foley’s method of analysis, Immanent Art. [15 pages]
Now that we have established a little bit of background for the history of the comic book and the men who influenced, informed, and otherwise initiated the birth of the genre, it is relevant to begin discussing the structure of the comic book and how it relates to the structure/ rules used in telling traditional folktales. In this chapter I will present the basic structure of both the comic book and the traditional folk narrative. Though the similarities between these two seemingly disparate genres will hopefully become suggested at, the true discussion of similarities will be presented in subsequent chapters. For now, it is enough to recognize that these two story forms are not quite as different as one might initially imagine.
In his book Understanding Comics Scott McCloud begins to outline the various methods that can be used when looking to define, interpret, and interact with comics on a more educated level. The comic book is much more than just pictures on the page, or word bubbles next to the image of an overly muscular individual in spandex. As suggested earlier, comics are a form of narrative which, like more traditional forms, utilizes a complex series of icons to create a sense of movement within the story. McCloud, when referring to this system of icons, uses a term coined by Will Eisner—sequential art.
Sequential art is “an art and literary form that deals with the arrangement of pictures or images and words to narrate a story or dramatize an idea” (Eisner, Sequential 5). This definition, taken from Will Eisner’s book Comics and Sequential Art, provides a touch stone for breaking up the rest of the structure of a comic book. When one begins to discuss the structure of a comic book, it is obvious where to begin; Eisner’s definition and book, along with McCloud’s, each begin by focusing on the art/image rich content of comics. In the past, many people have tried to look at art and text as two separate entities intended to be interpreted separately. According to McCloud, this separation is unnatural; in the case of comics, images and words should be viewed as interrelated. Instead, because pictures represent “received information” and require less “formal education to get the point” or decode, and words represent “perceived information” requiring more “specialized knowledge to decode” (Understanding 5), these two iconic forms are often times forced into opposite corners of the same triangle—this is the first mistake. Why would one separate the image and the text in one context but not in another? Take concrete poetry for example. If we look at E.E. Cummings poem “
According to McCloud, the images used in comics serve the function of an icon. Now the term icon is very general, and the job of narrowing it down to a more specific definition is one that delves much deeper into the realms of abstraction than is needed at this point. For the time being, I will borrow McCloud’s definition which suggests that an icon is “any image used to represent a person, place, thing, or idea” (Understanding 27). Typically we see two common types of icons, the icons of science and language (alphabets, numbers, musical notes, mathematical symbols, etc.) and icons that resemble their subject (pictures drawn realistically or in abstraction). Icons can be anything from the letter “A” to the smiley face sticker on the bumper of your neighbor’s car. In comic books, icons are everything from the voice bubble used to convey the notion of dialogue when one character speaks to another; the props, costumes, and scenery that are depicted (sometimes to photorealistic extremes), used, interacted with, and worn in the stories; to the characters themselves.
This said, one might imagine that the only structure that exists in a comic book is the icon, and this is true to an extent. Once we recognize that we are not just looking at a bunch of pictures interspersed with words, but instead are examining an icon rich text that not only deserves closer attention, but asks for it explicitly, we can begin to see the variations of icons as independent structures. By understanding the structure of the icon and each of its individual functions, one will begin to see how comics can transcend the standard conventions of image and text to create a unified narrative that, like the concrete poems mentioned above, relies on both forms of icon to establish meaning.
The pictorial icons, as suggested by McCloud, are much more variable than their more concrete, non-pictorial others. If I were to place the following non-pictorial icon 
on a sheet of paper and ask a random sampling of people what the symbol represented or meant, the likelihood that most of the people queried would respond with some variation of peace or freedom is unquestionable because of its universally implied meaning. McCloud suggest that non-pictorial icons have meanings that are “fixed and absolute. Their appearance does not affect their meaning because they represent invisible ideas” (Understanding 28). If, on the other hand, I performed a similar survey using a drawing of a male face, the responses would be much more varied because the picture would not hold the same iconic meaning as does—pictorial icons have meanings which are “fluid and variable” depending on the conditions under which they are presented. Thus, when we look at a comic book we see certain non-pictorial icons such as the “S” emblazoned across the chest of Siegel and Schuster’s Superman, or the circle x (Ä) combination of Lee and Kirby’s X-Men, and immediately recognize specific themes: vengeance, justice, vigilante, heroes, and the “other” being perhaps the most immediate. In the same light the characters themselves represent a variety of themes dependent on condition, situation, and writer’s whim; their role is much more fluid depending on how they are being used in a particular scene or story arc.
Pictorial images are the most common form of icon used in comic books; they function as a guide, and direct the reader through the action of the story. They are easily recognized and represent the flash and bravado of most comic stories. Non-pictorial icons fill a much different role and can be broken up into two categories, symbol[1] and text. Text icons represent the second structural element in comic books. As mentioned earlier, many critics seek to separate the image and the text so that they can be interpreted and discussed using the terms, rules, formulae, and strictures that apply to each group independent from the other.
“Dialogue executed in a certain manner tells the reader how the author wishes it to sound. In the process it evokes a specific emotion and modifies the image” (Eisner, Sequential 12). In comic books, text can be presented in a number of ways and in a number of different functions. Through the use of thought and speech bubbles, the image and text take on an “interdependent relationship” (McCloud 153) where one component serves to complete the other by adding something that the first could not provide in a isolation. At other times, textual icons play an “additive” (Understanding 154) role and seek to enhance the image by elaborating on the image or situation. Textual icons can also play an independent, or “word specific” (Understanding 153), role where it can stand alone as a complete text, but is only slightly enhanced by the images itself. McCloud outlines several other functions—picture-specific, duo-specific, parallel, and montage—and show how each provides certain qualities and functions in unique ways. Most importantly, through these various functions and manifestations one can see that the role of text in a comic book is more than just narration or scripting. Words begin to suggest emotion, movement/action, characterization, mood, etc. In order to truly understand the image, one must examine the text as well.
To return to Will Eisner, a man who is seen as the original comic theorist, innovator, and critic, when discussing the role of text in comics he stated: “Writing for comics can be defined as the conception of an idea, the arrangement of image elements and the construction of the sequence of the narration and the composing of dialogue. It is at once part and the whole of the medium” (Sequential 122). In the eyes of Eisner, text, in many ways, took the dominant role in comic books. In a conventional novel, the abundance of text restricts the imagination of the reader by spoon feeding in specific information to create a specific image in his/her minds eye. The authors of conventional novels use text as their paintbrush and the blank page as their pallet. In the case of a major novel the author has to use words to describe setting, character appearance, emotion, and any physical prop used or of visual importance. In comics, the opposite is the case. Instead of relying on textual icons to relate each of these afore mentioned items, they are graphically represented through pictorial means. The use of pictures frees the mind of the reader and allows them to read the dialogue and make extra-textual connections that otherwise may be impeded by an overload of sensory textual-details. Eisner suggest that “In comics the imagining is done for the reader” (Sequential 122). Though this is true to an extent, in many ways the imagining that is done is the purely superficial imagining that is the burden of many traditional novels. Instead of having to keep a constant picture of the scenery or wardrobe in mind, the reader can begin to imagine other aspects of the characters lives and provide background context that may not be explicitly mentioned but alluded to. These added dimensions are created between the panels.
The panels in a comic represent the third structural element. If images and text combined make the story, the panels serve to provide tension and order. Panels are the individual scenes which make up one moment of “time” in a comic. Though their roll is significant, there is no clear cut rule governing how panels are to be used. One panel can be the size of a postage stamp or it could take up an entire two page spread. While individual/isolated panels are the most common, long panels and full page/bleeds[2] are becoming more and more common as American comics are influenced by the comics of other regions, particularly the orient. Perhaps the primary function of the panel is to serve as a metaphorical clock depicting images in some sequence. Beneath this idea, McCloud outlines six major functions of the panel in comic books: depicting moment-to-moment, action-to-action, subject-to-subject, scene-to-scene, aspect-to-aspect, and non-sequitur (Understanding 74). Each of these functions contributes something different to the comic as a whole and is often in correlation or contrast to the others. For example, in DC’s Superman for all Seasons story, written by Jeph Loeb and illustrated by Tim Sale, page nine shows a three panel moment-to-moment transition as the “camera” slowly zooms in on the iconic Superman “S”; 
this transition is intended to provide a slower pace to the story and suggests that either the information or the icon(s) are especially significant and should be attended to. Action-to-action transitions, on the other hand, suggest a much quicker pace and accomplish in a much smaller space what would take a moment-to-moment transition much longer to represent. Again, turning to Superman for an example, on page 25 we see an action-to-action transition as the barber attempts to give young Clark Kent a haircut, and instead breaks his scissors on Clark’s super strong hair. 
One could continue to point out each of the other functions as they are exhibited in the text, but this would be an unnecessary activity. Instead, it is sufficient to recognize that with each move up the function ladder the idea of time becomes much more abstract. While moment-to-moments actions depict a brief amount of time in a drawn-out manner, action-to-action panels accomplish a similar function in a much smaller amount of space. Similarly, subject-to-subject, scene-to-scene, aspect-to-aspect, and non-sequitur each tackle time in an increasingly rapid manner. As we move from a detailed, time-conscious position of moment-to-moment panels, to the non-sequitur panels, there is an accompanying transition from concrete representations of time to more abstract representations. For readers, this transition signals a more complex reading of both the images and the text. Though much of the imagining is pre-fabricated in comics, as mentioned earlier, there is still a large amount of imagining that goes on. The majority of this takes place between the panels—or in the gutter. While panels do depict the idea of time as it moves from one point to the next, they do not depict continuous movement like a film or television show does.
Action in a comic book is choppy at best, though the images usually have a logical transition; every action is not depicted in minute detail. Instead we see jumps in action as in fig.2.
Letters pages were initially introduced into comics during the Golden Age as a means of meeting the postal regulations regarding magazines (Pustz 166). These pages started out as a place where short stories about the characters in the comic would be placed. These stories would be entirely textual, and would stand alone as an independent story, separate from the comic story also being told[3]. Eventually, the editors of the major publishing houses, EC and National, decided to save the money spent on paying someone to write a short story, and instead began to run the letters being sent in by the fans. In the early years very few comic actually had their own letters page; by the early 60s however, letter pages (or letterscols, an abbreviation of letters columns) became a staple of comics across the genre (Pustz 169). The primary function of the letterscol is to “encourage interaction between fans, content, and creators”; they were also “crucial in creating brand loyalty [and a] sense of community” (Pustz 167-168). Through this interaction the reader is given more of a buy in. They are given an opportunity to not only praise their favorite creator, but to suggest future movements in the story, ask questions about past stories and how they may or may not relate to the current one, and otherwise demonstrate an interest in the creation process.
Structurally, the letterscol signify a change in formality. They are typically located at the end of the comic and function as a bridge between the current story and the one to precede it. While the letterscols provide a place for fans to express their thoughts to a broader audience, they also serve as a place where creators are able to communicate with their audience on a more personal level. In the beginning, many of the letters that were published by DC, EC, and the other publishing houses were ghostwritten by the same men who were writing and illustrating the comics. This was done in an attempt to establish a specific feel, tone, and dynamic to the letters page. Many of the initial letters were loaded responses designed to suggest a specific method of reading, interpreting, and interacting with the comic story. In the 30s and 40s, when comics were beginning to grow in popularity, and then again with their rebirth in the 70s, the letterscol provided an alternate forum where fans could interact, communicate, and grow (Pustz 166).
Icons, text, panels, and letters pages/letterscols are only four broad categories of a text rich in structure, technique, and symbolism. Each division could be broken down into multiple other divisions; icons can be discussed in terms of pictorial or non-pictorial, active or inactive, primary or dependent, etc. Text can be discussed as dialogue, narration, effect, sensory/imagery, etc. Panels can be looked at in terms of how they are organized on the page, how they interact with each other, whether they are framed or bleeds, etc. Letterscols can be addressed in terms of who is commenting, what comments are being made, how those comments are responded to, what similarities exist from comment to comment and comic to comic. Most of all, one should look at each of these elements in relation to how they each function independently from one another and in harmony with each other. By taking a functional approach, one will begin to see how each of these structures works to create specific meanings within the comic—notice it is a question of how, not what meaning is achieved.
The question of how is one that is commonly dealt with in Deconstructive criticism. A text is approached by using a variation of the “how do the words and ideas presented in the story, essay, novel, or poem work together to create some kind of meaning” question. This is not an easy question to answer, but it is a question that John Miles Foley has attempted to clarify through his method of interpreting folk narratives called Immanent Art. Immanent Art “seeks to understand the idiomatic implications of multi-form ‘words.’ It concentrates on the recurrent phrases and scenes and story-patterns not as ends in themselves but as indexes of more-than-literal meaning, as special signs that point towards encoded traditional meanings” (Foley, How 109). Immanent art is a method of examining parts of a story as a whole; it looks at words groups such as the “much-suffering divine Odysseus” or “swift-footed Achilles” from Homers Odyssey and Iliad and examines how these repeated constructions function as a single idea intended to portray a specific mood, thought, or larger context. They centralize the characters by describing him/her using idiomatic language to access their “traditional” character.
But how does this all apply to comics? The Iliad and the Odyssey are epic poems; their original transmission was through word of mouth. Structurally, what similarities are there between these folktales and comic books? Comic books are pictorial stories; they are transmitted through print. They must be read in order to be understood, not listened to. In order to answer this question it is important to begin by defining the characteristics and structures of a common folktale as well as the techniques used in Immanent Art to examine these same folktales.
Folktales are one of the many kind of stories commonly grouped under the title of folklore. Folklore, as defined by Barre Toelken in The Dynamics of Folklore, is the study of the “dynamic interaction among human beings in vernacular performance contexts rather than through the more rigid channels and fossilized structures of technical instruction or bureaucratized education, or […] formally taught classical education” (32). In other words, folklore is the study of how information or traditions are passed down from one person or generation to the next in an informal setting. This information can be a mechanical skill such as wood carving, a bedtime story, life lessons, holiday traditions, special recipes for how to cure a cold, or a hundred other things such as specialized vocabularies used in certain situation and not in others. The key ingredient that links each of these items together is the method by which they are shared—word of mouth. Folklore is variable and consistent, variable in that its manifestations can be seen in anything from a patchwork quilt to an epic poem, and consistent in that the creation of said artifact springs from a tradition that has carried over from one generation to the next consistently over time (Toelken 34). If we combine these two ideas we can begin to see a rough definition of folklore as the informal transmission of information that has been circulating long enough to become consistent in content and variable in performance, or how it is shared. Immanent Art seeks to understand how these consistencies and variables create meaning.
Yet there still remains the problem with orality. True folktales/lore is oral by nature; Comic books are written, not oral. How does one reconcile the difference? This is where Immanent Art comes into play. One problem with studying folklore is that in its true essence it can only be studied in the present. How then are texts like the Iliad, the Odyssey, or Beowulf to be treated? At one point it is assumed that each of these texts existed purely in oral form. They were told at festivals and in public settings as a means of reminding people about their religion, their history, even their government. Today these tales exist purely in written form; they are no longer accessible in a purely oral form. Do these still fall into the realm of folklore, or have they transcended the gap and become standard texts? Foley would argue that these stories are powerful examples of folk traditions, that they still belong in the field of folk studies, and that through their examination one could understand the significant structures of folk narratives in a more complete and rich manner. To accomplish this, Foley took the methods of study outlined by Milman Perry and Albert Lord known as Oral-Formulaic Theory, and adjusted the processes of analysis a little and in turn developed Immanent Art.
While Oral-Formulaic Theory (OFT) seeks to “elucidate the structure of oral poetry [through] identify[ing] and describe[ing] the inventory of flexible construction material available to the poet, [… and] how larger patterns vary within limits from one performance to another” (Foley, How 109), Imminent Art (IA) looks for the how, how “idiomatic” expressions create specific meanings known and accepted by the audience. IA looks at the continually recurring scenes, “word[4]” groups, and patterns as “indexes of more-than-literal meaning, as special signs that point towards encoded traditional meanings” (Foley, How 109). IA seeks to view the text as a whole; it is especially useful when looking at written texts because it focuses on the repetitive structures of the text, seeing the recurring images and ideas as keystones for unlocking the significance of the text. IA sees texts as living bodies, not dead manuscripts. Originally developed to examine oral poetry that has been transcribed, it is my contention that IA can effectively be applied to other texts as well. Its application examines oral poetry as a “species of Language” (Foley, How 113), unspoken, but still able to demonstrate the malleability and active nature of its living cousin. IA’s overall goal is to restore to the language power of the idiomatic expression. Instead of focusing purely on the structures and formulae/ patterns, IA views these as vehicles which assist in transporting meaning.
When applying Immanent Art to a text, there are three main components that are used to examine the text: the register, the performance arena, and communicative economy. Each of these components serves a specific function on unraveling the communal meanings in the text.
Register looks at the “special language” used by both the storyteller to create their story and the audience/reader to both hear and read the tale. Foley explains this concept by suggesting an experiment where you try to explain a major event in history to three different people: your best friend, your parents, and the dean of your college. Though you may pay close attention to the tale and how you hare it, if you were to videotape each individual telling and then play them back you would notice that as hard as you tried to keep them all the same there would still be huge differences in each presentation. The reason for these differences is that each setting calls for a different level of formality. You will use a different register (vocabulary, posture, tone, etc) when talking to your friend than you will when talking to your dean. Similarly each storytellers will use different registers (performance techniques, vocabulary, highlighted details, etc) when performing for different groups (How 115). This shift in register is an important characteristic to recognize because it provides the initial connection between the story and its oral tradition. By recognizing the use of register in comics it will be much easier to demonstrate how these printed stories pull similar oral traditions.
After register comes the performance arena. The performance arena is not a physical space where performer and audience gather to interact. Instead, Foley describes it as “virtual space and time in which the poet and audience—more accurately, poets and audiences—transact their traditional business” (How 116). Since IA focuses on folklore reproduced as a physical text, the performance arena is the conditions under which the reader code switches (changes his/her mindset) in order interact with the text. In some cases these switches require that the reader agree to certain rules of “composition and reception” (116) which allow for the requisite interaction between reader and teller. Code switching can be a byproduct of social situation or a shift in the virtual venue. Despite the shift, Foley contests that each form of lore, be it poetic, narrative, musical, or artisan, has its own unique performance arena, and defines its own structures and rules to govern the way in which each performance is received. Conversely, all experiences take place in the same performance arena (116-117). In other words, though each text requires that the audience/reader agree to certain conditions in order to interact with the story, the experiences taken from each interaction all belong in one performance arena separate from the ones established by the text. This allows the reader to interact with a text on its terms while comparing the experiences gained with those gained from interacting with other, different texts/lore.
The final concept applied in Immanent Art is the communicative economy. Essentially, communicative economy is the byproduct of having learned the rules of each performance arena. Once one has learned the rules of interacting with a particular form of lore, that person is able to effectively communicate with that text/story. Think of it like two foreigners meeting, initially they will have a difficult time communicating because each person is trying to discover a common language. Once that language has been discovered the communication process becomes more smooth and functional. Still, perfect communication is not achieved; both parties, though able to communicate, are not in complete understanding. Why, because they have both been forced to cast aside their native language for a simpler universal form of communication. Because of this they rely on heavily coded, vivid, multi-layered “words.” These “words” are what allow the communication process to move along economically and effectively; in a few idiomatic words they are able to communicate whole “words.”
Immanent Art opens the door into becoming a “true” member of the audience. It seeks to understand the specialized language of the author/storyteller and promotes audience engagement. Because it focuses on structure and how meaning is created as a opposed to what the meaning is, Immanent Art provides a unique approach to understanding the use of traditional storytelling techniques. It seeks to create a better understanding of how “words” function as signifiers of more complex ideas understood by the originally intended audience. In order to understand these “words” one must agree to a certain register (method/level of communication) performance arena (place where interaction takes place), and level of communicative economy (speed by which communication takes place). As each of these concepts are agreed upon communication and understanding become more interactive and the storyteller and audience are able to enter into a more symbiotic relationship where both parties are engages in the process of creating understanding. Comic books require a similar level of interaction in order to effectively communicate.
Through the use of certain icons (universal “words”), unique scripting, creative paneling, and engaging the reader/audience in the letterscols, they request that the reader adopt a specific register, agree to a specific performance arena, and meet a certain level on communicative economy. In the next chapter we will begin the process of applying Immanent Art to three different retellings of the Superman Origins story: the original story told by Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster in Action Comics #1 published in 1939, a modern day period retelling done by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale Superman for all Seasons, and a modern interpretation told by Grant Morison and Jim Lee Superman Birthright. We will also begin to address the possible folkloric traditions which the creators are relying on to develop their stories, characters, and structures.
[1] The term symbol is a very loaded and complicated term. It is difficult to define, even harder to categorize, and generally complicates the discussion because of its immense variability. For this discussion it simply refers to icons such as the logos worn by various superheroes to identify their various team or personal association. Typically they are single letter icons such as the “A” used by the Avengers, the “S” worn by Superman, or the double “D’s” worn by Daredevil. As suggested earlier, these icons present ideas even when separated from the other icons that they are connected with.
[2] Bleeds are panels which, instead of being boxed in by a thin border of white, run off the page into the unknown. They are not restricted to the standard conventions of the page and provide a much different feel to the text as a whole.
[3] See Superman #1 originally published in July 1939, and republished by DC in The Superman Chronicles Volume One.
[4] It is important to understand that the term “word” does not refer to just a grouping of letters to create a single lexical entry. “Words” refer to any combination of words, phrases, ideas, or utterances which compose a complete thought or idea. This idea will be discussed in greater length in the next chapter. For now it is enough to understand that “words”, in this context, are not limited to the generally accepted and used definition.
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