Friends
Written by Amazonia V
Chapter 11:
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Interview with Next Generation Artists – featuring Jamie Galeria
By Lois Lane, Chief Reporter , The Daily Planet
Photographs by Jimmy Olsen, Photographer, The Daily Planet
Jamie Galeria (JG) (born 18 November 1979) is widely known online for work in comic book characters and other graphic images. Best described as a comics fan-artist, Jamie applies literary understanding to the characterization and as well as including challenging subject matter and adult themes. The Daily Planet interviews this reclusive artist who happily shares her thoughts on the current trends in comic books.
TDP: When did you first realize that you were an artist?
JG: Among fans, all over the world, the fandom is largely homogenous and always on the look-out for new and interesting art-work. In fact, unlike comic book artists, fan-artists are usually unvalued unless they are lucky enough to find a fan-group that likes their work. So accepting that one is an artist, and embracing it – as I did, when I was younger – is really something of an emotionally fraught experience. That said, from when I was a very small child, I can't remember a time when I wasn't painting or drawing or trying to visualize an art scene. My earliest memories are related to art - for example, I remember the exact moment, at four, that I understood perspective in drawing or the first time I consciously held a pencil in a different way to achieve an effect with line.
TDP: Could you tell us some more about your work?
JG: My early efforts were simple lines, more the outcome of ideas and thoughts rather than highly structured or with any particular theme. They were inspired by a desire to confront the increasing comic book artists and writers who depicted heroes with stereotypical depictions designed to entertain, rather than provoke thought and admiration. It was a kind of glossy 'anti-art' – colorful and imposing, and yet traditional.
My current work is very different. I like to think it embraces the primal nature of mankind and the impulses of art. It adheres to the figurative but with a freer, more expressionistic exploration of line and color. I’m happy expressing myself with any media – watercolors, pencil and ink or even crayons and paints. I’ve received very positive feedback from fans.
My generation has an advantage: it's the first to have globally networked electronic media at its disposal. Still, using these is about more than building a web site and creating a network. Email encourages frequency and depth in my communication with fans and collectors.
TDP: You use Superman as the subject for a lot of your work. Why is that?
JG: It's kind of inevitable, I guess. Superman is a fascinating subject. He has a lot of grace and strength, courage, integrity and is the embodiment of the ideal male. If such a thing as the ideal male is possible, then Superman is that male.
TDP: What artists have influenced you, and how?
JG: All of the graphic artists for the comic books are very inspiring, if a little insipid at times I became very disillusioned with them all - except Alan Moore - when it became apparent that much of their focus was actually on selling comic books rather than on art. Since then, I’ve been inspired by other artists who don’t draw for comic book companies. The Swedish artist – Mike S Mall does some wonderful work. The accomplishments of so many comic illustrators these days have reflected a triumph of consumerism over art. Their success is as reliant on message, positioning and timing as any corporate marketing strategy: its comic art as commodity, artist as brand.
TDP: What other interests do you have (besides drawing and art)?
JG: In relation to my work, I am beginning to experiment with a lot of other media, including making videos and short films, while continuing to draw as much as possible. I love traveling and renewing myself through nature treks and retreats. In relation to my personal life, its much simpler: I am learning to sky-glide, and I am in the middle of my first real love affair: its extraordinary how much time passes just hanging out, talking to my man and having sex!
****
Diana Prince, undercover agent for DOMA, was walking out of Jamie Galeria’s exhibition in Gotham, when the her communication earpiece was activated.
“Agent Prince, this is Agent Tresser. Report on any meta-human activity at the Galeria exhibition, please.”
Diana sighed. Tom was being so officious. So difficult. And just when she was actually enjoying her role. “Agent Tresser, nothing to report. I’ve taken a close look at all the artwork. There’s nothing to suggest any covert message of any kind.”
She spotted Clark Kent, Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen among the reporters gathered outside the building and walked towards them. Why were they covering an Art exhibition so far from home? She was curious. Besides, Diana wanted a word with Clark. Connor’s question was on her mind, and she wanted to discuss it with him.
She saw the exact moment he turned into Superman. Alert, keen, and ready to move. Still dressed as Clark Kent, though. She already knew he was leaving.
Diana turned around in one quick movement. With a quick flick of the wrist, her lasso magically screened her movements and turned into Wonder Woman, activating the JLA com-link at the same time. “Oracle here.” The link crackled alive. “What’s up, Wonder Woman?”
“Tell me what’s happening, Oracle,
“There's a hostage situation over in Little Italy,” said Oracle. “It's bad. Three people are already dead.”
Wonder Woman was already speeding to the venue. So was Superman.
The worst kind of war was one with no front lines or battle plans. It was fueled on anger and fear and the blind need to destroy. The once-tidy restaurant with its pretty, striped awning and sidewalk tables was destroyed. Shards from the broken window sparkled like scattered gems over the sidewalk. The flap of the awning in the raw spring wind was smothered by the static-filled drone of police radios. Reporters held back by barricades
swarmed like hungry wolves.
There was another volley of gunshots from inside. And a long, terrified scream.
“Hera.”
Sweat popped out on Jimmy’s brow as he held the camera steady. “He's killing them.”
“Get a shot of that cop there,” Lois said. “The one with the bullhorn.”
“You're the boss.” Jimmy focused in on a police man in a neon orange trench coat with a hangdog face and graying hair. “I wonder where Clark vanished.”
Amid the screams and shouts, the weeping, the bitter threats and curses from inside the restaurant, the steely-eyed cop continued to talk in a soothing monotone.
“Pretty cool customer,” Jimmy observed, then at a signal from Lois shifted, crouched to get a shot of the SWAT team taking position.
“Cool enough,” Lois agreed. “If he keeps at it, they might not need the sharpshooters. Keep rolling. I'm going to see if I can work my way over and find out who he is.”
The Batman wasn't thinking about the future. He was too involved in the present. Using wile, guile and arrogance, he'd managed to gain a position beside the hostage negotiator, Commissioner Gordon. Gordon still held the bullhorn but had taken a short break in his appeal to his quarry to release the hostages.
“Commissioner, the word I've gotten here is that Chico--that's his name, isn't it, Chico Valentine?”
“It's the one he answers to,” Gordon said mildly.
“He has a history of depression. He hates meta-humans ever since his parents and sister died in that huge battle that’s still called Infinite Crisis, leaving him alone. His VA records… ”
“You would not have access to VA his medical records, Batman?”
“Not directly.” But he had contacts, and he'd used them.
“My take on this is that Valentine served in the military and has been troubled since his discharge in March of last year. Last week he lost his wife and his job.”
“You're well informed.”
“And I’ve warned Superman and Wonder Woman not to enter the situation or be seen just now. We don’t want to trigger off any more killing.”
“That’s right.”
“Chico went into this restaurant at just past ten this morning--that's about three hours ago--armed with a forty-four Magnum, a Bushmaster, a gas mask and a carbine. He shot and killed two waiters and a bystander, then took five hostages, including two women and a twelve-year-old girl, the owner's daughter.”
“Ten,” Gordon said wearily. “The kid’s ten. Batman, you do good work, and usually I’m happy with it. But my job right now is to get those people out of there alive.”
Batman glanced over, noting the position of the sharpshooters. They wouldn't wait much longer. “What are his demands? Can you tell me that?”
It hardly mattered, Gordon decided. There had been only one, and he hadn't been able to meet it. “He wants his wife, Batman. She left Gotham four days ago. We're trying to locate her, but we haven't had any luck.”
“I can ask the JLA to help and The Daily Planet to get it on the air. If the JLA finds her or she catches a bulletin, she may make contact. Let me talk to him. I might be able to get him to bargain if I tell him we’ll find her.”
Batman turned aside and spoke to Oracle, “Oracle try and find his wife, Angela Valentine.”
Then, he activated the JLA com-link and spoke quickly to all the JLA members giving them the same message.
Superman and Wonder Woman – hovered above the scene, out of sight, watching for a signal from the Batman. Batman activated the second channel of the com-link and spoke briefly to Superman and Wonder Woman, telling them of his plan and what they needed to do and when. Then he turned and held out his hand to Gordon.
Gordon believed in instinct, and he also knew, without a doubt, that he couldn't hold the situation from flash point much longer. After a moment, he handed Batman the bullhorn. “Don't promise what you can't deliver.”
“Mr. Chico Valentine. This is Batman. I'm a friend….”
“I know who you are.” The voice came out, a high-pitched shriek through the broken glass. “Do you think I'm stupid?”
“You were in the Crisis war, right? I was too.”
“Shit. You figure that makes us buddies?”
“I figure anybody who lived through that has already been to hell." The awning flapped, reminding Bruce of the heroes who had fallen in that cataclysmic war. “I thought maybe we could make a deal.”
“There isn’t any deal. My wife gets here, I let them go. She doesn't, we're all going to hell. For real.”
“The cops have been trying to reach her, but I thought we could put a new spin on it. I've got a lot of contacts. I can get the JLA on it, get your story national, put your wife's picture on television screens from coast to coast. Even if she isn't watching, someone who knows her is bound to be. We'll put a number on, a special number where she can call in. You can talk to her, Chico."
That was good, Gordon decided, even as he braced to rip the bullhorn from Batman’s hands if the need arose. Using his first name, offering him not only hope but a few minutes of fame. His superiors might not approve, but Gordon thought it could work.
“Then do it!” Valentine shouted out. “Just f***ing do it.”
“I'll be glad to, but I can't unless you give something back. Just let the little girl come out, Chico, and I'll plug your story across the country within ten minutes. I can even fix it so you can get a message to your wife. In your own words.”
“I'm not letting anybody out, except in a body bag.”
“She's just a kid, Chico. Your wife probably likes kids.” Hell, Batman hoped so. “If you let her go, she'll hear about it, and she'll want to talk to you.”
“It's a trick.”
“I've got a camera right here." He glanced toward Jimmy and Lois. “Is there a TV in the bar in there?” he called out.
“What if there is?”
“You can watch everything I do. Everything I say. I'll have them put me on live.”
“Then do it. Do it in five minutes, f***ing five minutes, or you're going to have another body in here.”
“Fix it up,” Batman said. “Patch me in. Set up for live now.” Then he turned back to Gordon.
“You'd make a pretty good cop--for a vigilante.”
“Thanks." He handed Gordon the bullhorn. “Tell him to send her out while I'm on the air, or I go to black.”
Batman simultaneously spoke into the com-link connecting Superman, Wonder Woman and himself. “Wonder Woman, you need to move in quickly and snatch up Chico. Superman, you need to shield the hostages from possible bullets while you grab them up.”
In precisely five minutes, Batman faced the camera. Being in the limelight was not something he sought. He much preferred to work in the shadows. Too late to change tack now.
Whatever his inner turmoil, his delivery was calm and well paced, his eyes cool. Behind him was the shattered exterior of the restaurant.
“This morning in Gotham’s Little Italy, this family-run restaurant erupted with violence. Three people are known dead in the standoff between police and Chico Valentine, a former mechanic who chose this spot to take his stand. Valentine's only demand is contact with his estranged wife, Angela.”
Though he sensed activity behind him, Batman's eyes stayed fixed on the camera's light.
“Valentine, well armed, is holding five hostages. In his appeal to…"
There was a scream from behind him. Batman stopped speaking immediately and sprinted towards the sound. Jimmy continued to tape.
It happened quickly, as if all the waiting hours had been focused on this one moment. The child, trembling and weeping, stepped outside. Even as the shadow of the awning fell over her face, a wild-eyed man sprinted out, screaming as he hurtled toward escape. The rash of gunfire from the restaurant propelled the man forward, off his feet. It was Superman, Batman saw, who scooped the child aside even as Valentine stumbled to the door.
Wonder Woman snatched up Chico Valentine, disarming him effectively and bringing him to Gordon’s side.
The bullets fell harmlessly to the ground. It was split second timing. And though Batman had seen these two in action before, he was still breathless at their power and grace. And struck by the fact that they moved like one person. Almost as if they knew what the other was thinking.
“Oh man.” Jimmy kept repeating the words over and over under his breath as he held the camera steady. “Man, oh man, oh man.”
Lois only shook her head. The burning in her left arm made her glance down curiously. Brows knit, she touched the hole in her sleeve. Her fingers came away sticky with blood.
“Well, hell,” she murmured. “I got this coat in Paris.”
“Shit, Lane.” Jimmy’s eyes bulged. “Shit. You're hit.”
“Yeah.” She didn't feel any pain yet, only dull annoyance. “You just can't patch leather, either.”
On Thursday, as soon as the morning show was taped, Lois stood in the center of her office, her eyes glued to the TV screen. It seemed unbelievable that she could be so calm even as she supplied the details over the special report.
She saw the scene vividly once again. The shattered glass, the bloodied body. The camera bobbled and swung as guns went off. Her heart jerked as she heard the pop and ping of bullets. She replayed the first few relays when Batman had addressed the viewers. His voice remained calm, cool, with an underpinning of fury she doubted any of his viewers were aware of. She stood, a fist pressed to her heart as the camera zoomed in on the child, weeping in the arms of a rumpled man with graying hair, as Superman stood by their side.
“Lois.” Perry hesitated in the doorway, then crossed the room to stand beside her.
“It's horrible,” she murmured. “Unbelievable. If that man hadn't panicked and run out that way, if he hadn't done that, it might have turned out differently. That little girl, she could have been caught in the cross fire.”
“Are you okay? Should you be back on the job so soon?”
“Lois” Perry said again, and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to take a break for a few days?” He walked over and switched off the set. “ I would understand. I could even give you a desk job.”
For the first time, she gave him a smile. “Things don't work that way. I wouldn't want them to. We'd better get back to work.” She gave his hand a quick squeeze before rounding her desk. “Thanks for caring, Chief.”
“Hey. That's what I'm here for. And don’t call me Chief.”