Writer/Artist: Paul Pope
Company: Adhouse

Calling Pulphope “The Art of Paul Pope” actually does it a bit of a disservice. It makes it sound like it is mostly going to be a collection of work, both previously seen and never-before-seen, of an immensely talented artist. That would have been well enough, but Adhouse and Pope go a few steps further and create a book that is an insight into Pope’s influences and thoughts on various types of art, accompanied by visual examples, to create a book that is an approximation of both a very good art textbook, an autobiography and a coffee table art book all at the same time.

The images in Pulphope are undeniably evocative and interesting, ranging from Pope’s rescued drawings as a five-year-old to his work on manga for Kodansha to erotica and even some of his indy comics work like THB, but they are far from the only attraction. Pope precedes each of the eight chapters with a two- or three-page essay about the art style contained in the chapter, along with thoughts about his process, artists who work in that style who have influenced him or even just his philosophy and how it informs his art. It’s both educated and educational, as Pope shows off a knowledge of art and culture that is humbling to anyone who hasn’t formally studied it, and presents cohesive arguments about form and style alongside whimsical stories that reinforce his points. It’s delightfully fun yet mind-expanding, and to my mind deserves to be put up there with Understanding Comics as a book that all serious students of the comics form should have.

Adhouse is a relatively sparse publisher, producing maybe a half-dozen or so books in any given year. I don’t know if this is a factor in the careful design work that goes into each product or not, but it’s definitely true that each Adhouse book, from single issue comic to graphic novel to art book, is in and of itself a unique art object. From the compact hardcover of Process Recess to the rounded corners and silver inks of Project Telstar, Adhouse books consistently offer a package that comments on and enhances the material inside. In this respect, Pulphope is no different. The book is oversized, squarebound, printed on top quality paper and it really shows off Pope’s art to its best effect. I might have preferred a less abstract cover that more clearly laid out the contents, and I honestly found the font used for chapter titles weirdly dated, evoking ’70s Buck Rogers, but at the same time, these are basically personal quibbles, and certainly they fit with the overall design vibe of the book, which encompasses a wide variety of styles and influences, representing a sort of chaos, and laser-focused essays analyzing why each piece remains, enforcing structure and order on the wildness of the art.

Pope’s career is a varied one, ranging from many differnet types of commercial art (rock posters & CDs, magazine illustrations), pop and fine art (prints and paintings) and of course comic book art. Pulphope has room for most of these periods, although the commercial art, and indeed a good chunk of his relatively low mainstream comics output, is left out, probably due in part if not in full to copyright/ownership issues. What’s left is a lot of his work at its most personal, including a chapter on his experimentation with the Japenese form Ukiyo-E (which he playfully renames Ukiyo-E-Pope), a chapter on pin-ups (wouldn’t be an artist book without them) and a chapter focused on kid art. The latter is most interesting not only because he examines what it was like for him to draw as a child, but the thought process of drawing as a child in general. There is also a chapter focusing on his work for manga publisher Kodansha, with tantalizing glimpses of a whole body of Pope work that is to this day either unpublished or near impossible to get for the average American comics fan. Another chapter covers art as visions of the future and yet another on “design containers,” which is as close as you get to a general dissertation on Pope’s visual style without getting into as many specifics as the other chapters. Each one features a thought-provoking essay and gorgeous art pieces that demand your attention again and again.

In fairness, Pulphope is not an art book that I can whole-heartedly recommend to everyone. Those seeking only to look at Pope’s art as art, who want to appreciate the visuals without looking behind the curtain, would better off checking out Batman Year 100 or 100%, to see his art at work. That’s not to say there aren’t any number of singularly striking images in this book that any fan of Paul Pope would enjoy, but I think that reading the book on that level would probably leave one unsatisfied. Instead, this is an unprecedented look into the mind of an artist, tracing his history through a non-linear exploration of his influences and favorite styles and sharing a unique philosophy that could easily be the jumping-off point for dozens if not hundreds of conversations on the process and place of art. Certainly this is a book that comic book artists, whether neophyte or veteran, would enjoy. I imagine most would find plenty to appreciate, and consider. In fact, I’d love to see more of these kinds of books from other artists, because each artist’s insight and influences would be so different.

It’s rare to find a book this engaging, the last one I can think that even approached this in-depth and interesting a look at an artist was Active Image’s Tim Sale: Black and White. To me, Pulphope is essentially like getting to sit down in a cafe with the artist for several hours and talk about art, except that at the end of the chat, not only do you have a record of your talk that you can view at your leisure, instead of half-filled coffee cups and stubbed-out cigarettes, you have a beautiful art object of a book packed with visual delights.