slavesincorporated

Comics are not People

In Uncategorized on May 11, 2019 at 17:13

Comics are not people. They are outsiders. We meet people in a pre-ordained way for half an hour a day, sometimes less. And those minutes on stage are really the only time we are truly alive. The rest of the day is an anti-climax.

Comics are not people. We like talking about death, people like to forget about it. Strange things keep us up at night. Like why cows on milk cartons look so happy? Why are broilers on chicken packets are wearing chef hats? If all the CCDs are empty, why are they opening new ones? People don’t think about these things, the horrors right in front of our eyes. They can’t afford to. They have to reach work the next day. It’s a strange barter. They do all the work, we do all the obsessing.

Walk into a restaurant and you see how full the tables are and if the coffee is smelling nice. But he comic sees the guy trying very hard to impress his date, the parents conveniently ignoring their rampaging progeny, the staff fighting in the corner and the general incidence of obesity. In a crowded mall, you make a beeline for your favourite brand while ducking the credit card salesmen. The comic notices how sweaty the guy in the takeaway kitchen is, the rats nibbling on a cake that has fallen down, the kid wiping his hands on his father’s shorts, how the store staff are trying not to listen to Kenny G for the 500th time and how everyone looks generally dead inside.

Not all comics are crazy though. Many are reasonably sane, have a mainstream family life, manage to sleep by midnight and file their tax returns in proportion to the forgettability of their material. They are more businessmen than artists. But it takes all kinds to form a stable market. The other extreme is so much obsession with the truth or your version of it that you have zero empathy left for the audience. And this also works, if your father is rich and you don’t have to pay the bills. The real skill is in yanking the audience out of their comfort zone but not so far that they make a run for it.

We criticize people, we dissect them, we detest them but we need them. Everyone needs an audience. Suffering is everywhere but silent suffering is the worst kind. Even a hanging achieves more meaning in the presence of an audience. If you have suffered without a witness, it makes it that much more unbearable…the fact that no one even knows your story, however good or bad it is. We all want our stories to have some message, if not an outright meaning. And there is no meaning if you don’t share it. The simple the act of sharing it with a group however small liberates the thought both for the performer and the audience. It could be long-drawn suffering, an obsession or just a small annoyance, just putting it out there for other people to consider takes the sting away.

Of course, the audience forgets most of it because as we have established, they need to reach work again tomorrow morning. And the entire market runs on empty calories. But some ideas stick, some linger and some may even change a person’s outlook. In a reality where everything eventually crumbles, only ideas survive and even grow. Like the classic guitar solo that gets covered in all shapes and forms decades after the artist has turned to dust. Energy can neither be created nor be destroyed but only good art can defy the law of entropy. And that in many ways is the only thing worth striving for.

  • Punit Pania

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