Perspective of Perspectives: A Review of Grant Snider's The Shape of Ideas
The text utilized for this review is Snider’s hardcover,
illustrated edition of The Shape of Ideas:
An Illustrated Exploration of Creativity. For those interested in taking a
closer look at this text and/or Grant Snider's work, please consult the following citation, ISBN
information, and URL:
Snider, Grant. The
Shape of Ideas: An Illustrated Exploration of Creativity. Illustrated
Edition ed. New York: Abram Comicarts, 2017. Print.
ISBN: 978-1419723179
http://www.incidentalcomics.com/
Through his website entitled Incidental Comics, Grant Snider—featured in The Best American Comics in 2013—publishes a myriad of subject
matter through comic strips that frequently demonstrate seemingly universal
truths and experiences. Within topics ranging from “Character Development” and “The
Ingredients of Shakespeare” to “Starlight (a comic for Father’s Day), Snider personally,
literally, figuratively, and humorously communicates his perspective on
commonly shared human experiences. His first book, The Shape of Ideas: An Illustrated Exploration of Creativity similarly
engages his audience. Snider interacts with us and challenges us through an effectively-structured
union between text and visual language from the beginning until the final page.
This style of graphic novel deviates from others with which
I am familiar, so while examining the text alongside my typical expectations
and understanding of the genre, I must also consider Snider’s own terms. His
mission for this work becomes clear very early as he specifically addresses his
audience in a letter: at its conclusion, he states, “I hope this book will
provide some insight into the creative process. I hope you can relate to the
joys and pitfalls of creativity. Most of all, I hope this book encourages you
in your own search for ideas” (7). Regarding his own hope for the text as well
as consideration for elements found in a more “traditional” style narrative,
Snider does not disappoint. His direct interactions with us in this letter, as
well as throughout his work, allows us to find a reliability and value in his purpose.
Unlike perplexing (though interesting) author-reader interactions that exist
elsewhere in the genre—I’m looking at you, Gilbert Hernandez—Snider’s immediate,
sincere interaction with his readers urges us onward with the impression that
we will find relief and inspiration through his words and images.
At first glance, Snider eases us comfortably into the complexities
of his mind and ours by creating a children’s book charm with the front cover
and introductory page (Figures 1 & 2). The idea lightbulb realistically
exists on the opening page, but we see it through a literal hole in the cover.
By opening in this format, I quickly perceived Snider’s subliminal
acknowledgement that I will find myself
in the text through the various multi-faceted ideas—or lightbulbs—that occur while reading. Indeed, while exploring his
images and words, I find my own memories, my own confounding personality
traits, my own internal dilemmas. This dual-utilized lightbulb additionally signifies
a primary message of his work and serves as an introduction to the conflation
of literal and figurative meanings in one simple panel: ideas are unpredictable,
ever-shifting, and often enigmatic. Just as the character on this first page
finds himself amongst a tangled rope leading to a lightbulb balloon, our ideas,
and particularly what we do with our
ideas, are internally and externally mangled.
Comic theorist Neil Cohn suggests in his text The Visual Language of Comics: Introduction
to the Structure and Cognition of Sequential Images that “Comics are social
objects created by incorporating the results of two human behaviors: writing
and drawing” (1). Snider’s “social object” created relies on both of these
behaviors—or, forms of communication—for ultimate understanding. Throughout The Shape of Ideas, beginning in the
first section “Inspiration,” Snider reveals his mastery of both communicative
forms and their functionality together.
We see Snider’s creation of both text and image working in unison to develop figurative
meaning (Figure 3).
Figure 4: Page 26 |
(For further examination of this relationship between literal
and figurative meaning through the two communicative forms, I recommend looking
at pages 34 and 38-39).
Amidst Snider’s mastery of presenting interconnected
meanings, much of his writing focuses on the idea of perspective both literally and figuratively. In several instances
in his text, Snider offers variations of a single term in order to demonstrate
how complex a seemingly simple thing
or idea can truly be. An early
example of this occurs in the “Improvisation” section, and this two-page set of
panels demonstrate eighteen different possibilities of what a “Blank Page”
could be (Figures 5 & 6). As Snider literally shows these distinct
classifications of a “Blank Page,” he figuratively accentuates a common message
within the work: ideas, experiences, and even objects are intricate, and our
understanding of them depend particularly on perspective. Thus, we must strive
to consider an intricate web of perspectives in order to holistically comprehend
just one idea. Snider repeats this method consistently throughout The Shape of Ideas, and with each new topic,
the impact of this message perpetuates more and more.
(For further examination of this method of presenting
variation, please consider the topics “Cycles of Life” (42), “Life Drawing”
(43), “Paths to Success” (54), “Collecting My Thoughts” (69), “Frames of Mind”
(92-93), “Sketchbooks of the Pros” (94), “Creative Blocks” (105), “Types of
Motivation” (110), “Designer Chairs” (121), “Dancing about Architecture” (122),
“The Elephants of Typography” (126), and “The Internal Decathlon” (132).)
I have mentioned Snider’s inclusion of universal truths, and
in order to illustrate these truths, he demonstrates his understanding of our
day-to-day reality and urges us to move beyond responsibility to value artistry
and creativity. He depicts scenarios involving daily housework, procrastination,
rejection, attending and graduating from college, wanting to sleep all day when
it is raining, New Year’s resolutions, and our desire for coffee to get through
the day so that we can relate to his masterful presentation of ideas. Through
these scenarios, we realize that our creativity can easily be muddled and cast
aside if we neglect it—and though that will inevitably occur from time to time,
he encourages us in these images to appreciate the power of our individual ideas.
To further relate to our preconceived ideas, under the topic
“Disclaimer,” Snider breaks down the common cliché “You can be anything you
want to be!” to project his understanding that neglecting these
responsibilities is easier said than done (Figure 7). He illustrates the reality
most of us face upon striving for a substantial goal, and in doing so, he further
establishes our trust in him. In moments like this, we remember that he is not
just preaching about an unattainable ambition, but rather encouraging us to
press onward past the realistic hindrances we are bound to confront.
Following this disclaimer, in “Message to a Graduate,”
Snider embodies one of his prior comic panels from Incidental Comics entitled “Graduation Illustration” (Figure 8). In
both components, he continues to acknowledge his understanding of the harsh
world we encounter. In “Message to a Graduate,” however, he connects this
reality to his hopeful message that creativity can be utilized to defy the
hardships that arise while, again, establishing his mastery of unified literal
and figurative meaning through text and image. We see and
read literal “hoops” that we may need to jump through, but we easily understand
the implication intended.
Beginning with the aforementioned letter to the reader, Snider’s
interactions, as well as these pieces of relatable content, act as reminders
that he is not only like us, but
writing for us. As he asks frequent
rhetorical questions, provides instructions for various tasks,—like “How to
Look at Art” and “Painting for Non-Majors” to name a few—offers his advice, and
slips in humorous references and jokes, he reaffirms our relationship with him.
I mean, who wouldn’t giggle, and sing along, as the penguin sings “I believe I can
fly”? And who wouldn’t give an eye-rolling smile at the obvious, yet endearing
pun of “Complementary Colors” literally giving each other compliments in the
image?
Interestingly, Snider does not seem to advocate for the
existence of individual, isolated agency
in this work. This is not to say that he lacks value for each individual—in
fact, several previously discussed textual components suggest the opposite. My
understanding, rather, is that Snider views us as active participants in our
individual lives while we are also at the mercy of external forces. Very early
in the work, in the section “Opportunity Knocks”, I begin to sense that Snider
believes we are at the mercy of some greater being or force in life: Snider
writes, “But if opportunity finds an opening it lets itself in and chooses
whoever can seize it” (17). Here, though an individual would complete the seizing, that action is only possible if
opportunity finds an opening; thus,
seizing opportunity is not merely left to the individual. Similarly, under the
topic “Accomplishing Nothing” (81), Snider discusses doing “nothing” while
there are actually several events occurring in the panels. The assumed
character (because a character is not physically seen in these panels) may be
doing “nothing,” but the world is still moving and nature is still changing. It
seems as though Snider encourages our understanding of the irony here: though I
may do nothing, the idea of nothing occurring, even for a second, is
impossible. The irony continues within the topic “Theories of Autumn”—a sequence
that depicts the Autumn’s seasonal changes. Snider humorously suggests that “tree
painters” are responsible for the trees changing colors. By creating the text
and image in this way, Snider subtly forces us to remember (in that moment)
that we do not have control over the weather and season. In these examples,
Snider does hold us partially responsible for our individual ideas and events
in life, but it seems he also argues that we must acknowledge that there are
things beyond our control.
After all of the meticulous interconnections of meaning and
language form, it is not surprising that Snider concludes The Shape of Ideas so powerfully. His final topic “Corrections” is
not included within the “Genius” sections provided throughout the rest of the
work; instead, this portion exists outside of the rest of the narrative. He illustrates,
again through both text and image, that creativity does not end: it can be
reconsidered through new perspectives, and new perspectives can take us to an
entirely new beginning. On the final page, he leaves his ultimate mark of
inspiration by literally leaving us with our own blank page. His entire mission
was to encourage our creativity, and so he leaves us the space to begin (Figure
9).
Now it's time to either grab Snider's book The Shape of Ideas, or go start creating even before you read it. I'd bet he'd be happy either way.
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