Thursday, October 28, 2010

"COSMIC" KIRBY AND THE GOD CONCEPT

Will Murray










"COSMIC" KIRBY AND THE GOD CONCEPT



I've been a fan of Jack Kirby for about 45 years, ever since I started

reading comics at the tail end of 1961. My timing was pretty good. I came in just

as the great Kirby Explosion of Cosmic Creativity was about to begin. It was,

let's face it, the Big Bang of Comics for my generation.

While I don't clearly recall my first introduction to Jack Kirby's work other

that it had to have been on one Marvel's many monster titles, I was able to

recreate it from memory and on-sale dates. It was "KRAGOOM! The Creature

Who Caught an Astronaut," in Journey into Mystery #78, March 1962.

It was a creepy crepuscular little 7- pager inked by Steve Ditko, Stan Lee's

favorite Kirby inker, and one of mine. "Kragoom" was one of the last of the "Big

Monster" tales Kirby did. Lee was phasing them out in favor of shorter,

spookier stories.

A second Kirby tale, "The Sorcerer," backed up the first. My other

favorite Kirby inker, Dick Ayers, embellished that one. It was a perfect example

of the type of fantasy tale Kirby had specialized in since the days he produced

Black Magic with Joe Simon.

Soon, I discovered the companion titles--Strange Tales, Tales to

Astonish and Tales of Suspense. Kirby led off every issue with haunting tales

like "The Two-Headed Thing", "The Martian Who Stole a City" and "The

Midnight Monster." New Kirby stories appeared virtually every week. It

was astounding.

Back then, he was simply J. Kirby, for that was all the signature Stan

Lee allowed him. Soon, Kirby had a first name and he started transitioning from

monsters and aliens to superheroes. I brought FF 4, then Incredible Hulk #1.

Soon there was Thor and an emerging legion of others.

I read other publishers of course. DC. Charlton. Radio Comics. But I never

suspected that DC’s Challengers of the Unknown had been created by Kirby,

who had abandoned it to other hands. Nor did I recognize that emblematic image

of the Fly that decorated his cover logo was a Kirby drawing.

Twenty years in the comics business, Jack Kirby had saturated the field.

He was about to reclaim and reenergize it.

The superheroes came tumbling out. Kirby was such a dominant figure

that even though he didn't originate Iron Man, everyone assumed he did. In a

way they were correct. His cover for Daredevil #1 smacked of being a concept

sketch, but how much of the character design was Kirby and how much Bill

Everett will probably never be known.

Even Spider-Man, the most un-Kirby hero in the growing Marvel

firmament, turned out to have Kirby roots in a thing called the Silver Spider.

But the true wonder was not simply the new superheroes. Kirby had

created a young army of them in the two decades before the 1960s--although

hardy any of them possessed true super powers. It was in the expanding

universe which these new Marvel heroes explored. Not just on Earth and near-

space, but in Atlantis and Asgard and across other dimensions. Not content with

fighting crime and supercriminals through his superheroes, Kirby pushed the

frontiers of comic book melodrama out beyond its farthest extensions.

Comic books would never be the same again. They couldn't, any more

than a supernova could return to being just an ordinary sun.

I read it all and loved them all. To this day, I still think the best era to

grow up reading comic books was in the 1960s. Jack Kirby was not the only

genius at work in that incandescent decade, but he was the greatest genius.

To this day, no other comic book talent created or co-created so many enduring

heroes.

Over time, my interest in Kirby the artist shifted to Kirby the man.

His creativity intrigued me. Who was this guy who executed pages and

pages of art at supernormal speeds? What made this creative dynamo tick?

From whence sprang his unique genius?

I don't know if the answer will ever be known. Jack Kirby as a human

volcano of inspiration. A prolific absorber and regurgitator of ideas. Give him a

weak concept--say Ant-Man--and Kirby would make it seem inspired, if not

brilliant.

Although I met him a few times and interviewed him twice, I never got

to know the man. But others who did know him described a fascinating figure.

Artist Chuck Cuidera first encountered him in 1940, when he applied

to Fox Comics for work and met the newly-minted team of Jack Kirby and partner

Joe Simon, who was art-directing at Fox.

"Joe Simon hired me right on the spot and he said, 'You're going to

be my assistant.' The guy that was sitting in back of him was Jack Kirby. He was

doing 'Cosmic Carson.' I still remember that. He used to talk to himself quite a bit.

Nice guy. Real nice guy. Of course, Jack Kirby and Joe were getting ready to do

Captain America."

DC editor Jack Schiff, who worked with the duo in the 40s and 50s, told

me the following:

"I would say that Jack was more creative, but wilder. Joe was the guy

who would pull it together. We once had a sort of race in the front office. We had

a big artist's room. Jack and Mort Meskin were sitting next to each other and

there was some copy we needed pretty quickly from both of them. Each of them

turned out five pages of pencils. Beautifully. It was really something. After a

while, people began to crowd around watching. And they would both go ahead

undisturbed. Meskin was a more careful artist than Kirby, and that's where Joe

Simon came in, in a sense taming or correcting some of Jack's stuff."

Five pages a day was and still is considered the maximum number of

comic book pages a professional artist can turn out without his work suffering.

It's believed to be the maximum limit of sustained human capacity. Few can do it.

Reportedly Kirby did it on a routine basis. For that reason, the five-page limit

is called the Kirby Barrier.

Larry Lieber, who with Stan Lee and Joe Simon racked up the

greatest number of Kirby collaborations during the days when he scripted Jack's

pre-hero Marvel monsters, recalled that Kirby drew so rapidly that Lieber was

always in a rush to produce new scripts to feed the relentless artistic machine

that was Jack Kirby.

Lieber recounted, "When I was starting to draw--this is before the

Rawhide Kid--Stan said, 'Jack, maybe you could help Larry to draw. Show him

something or other.' And he sat down and he took a page that I had drawn, and

he went over it to show me what he would have done it. I said, 'How do you

draw?' And he showed me how to construct in a very simple way. He took a

blank page and he made a sketch. He set the figure and he did this and he did

that. He was doing it for me. I noticed he paid no attention to the anatomy of the

figure at all. I said, 'Jack, what about anatomy?' He said to me, 'Larry, if I had to

worry about anatomy, I couldn't get my pages out." The page that I drew was a

guy in a coat walking someplace. And what he drew for me wasn't anything. It

was just like bending a figure. Like an anatomy lesson, except there was no

anatomy!"

Kirby friend Richard Kyle, who commissioned "Street Code" for

Argosy, told me that many many people described Jack's working method in

the identical way: "Jack would just stare and stare at a blank sheet of paper as if

projecting a mental image onto the paper. And then he would draw what he saw."

Inker Mike Thibbeadoux:

"...the layouts he did were so rough, you could hardly see the figures. And

then he'd start up in the left hand corner. I remember ....it was like the image was

already there and he was tracing it. It's quite amazing."

Stan Lee described it this way: "Most artists would draw a circle for the

head and a circle for the body and then start filling it in. But Jack would just start

with the head and he would draw it and every line was there right from the start.

He didn't make little rough drawings first...it was the most eerie feeling watching

him draw--you felt he was tracing what was already in his head."

Sometimes, Kirby would start in the corner of the page, beginning with a

foot and extrapolate from there, in flagrant violation of all the rules of

composition.

"When Jack had what he wanted in mind, he just drew it," said Mark

Evanier. "It was eerie."

"Mike is wrong," corrected Joe Simon. "The other guys are right. Jack

did not sketch out lines or circles. He just put down the drawings where he

wanted them. I have worked with Jack for over 25 years and never saw him

roughing out a figure before he drew it. I also worked with another genius, my

letterer Howard Ferguson who often did not do penciled lines as guides under his

lettering. That too was weird."

Larry Lieber thinks he understands how Jack Kirby worked.

"First, he did see it in his mind a lot. And the more you see it in your

mind, the easier it is, I think. The style in which he drew, it was easy to do it with

that. There was something very simple about his drawing. It wasn't very

illustrative, like John Buscema. And he didn't vary his emotions that much, for

instance. Or his expressions on the faces. He had been doing it for so many

years, and he just trained himself to do it. And he did it in a simple way.

"I thought he was wonderful as a comic artist," Lieber continues.

"The best. But one of the things I envied was that he had a style that almost no

inker could ruin. It was almost inker-proof. Not quite. Why? Because his work

was so simple, in a way. There was nothing subtle in his drawing for an inker to

go off. It was almost like doing an animated cartoon. Except he put millions of

figures in and he turned and twisted them. But once he put his basic drawing

down, you couldn't ruin it unless you just didn't want to follow the line. Yet the

beauty was in the power of it."

Stan Lee told me much the same thing: "Nobody could hurt Jack's stuff.

The strange thing about it, I cared much more about who inked Kirby than

Kirby did. We used to discuss in the office the fact that Kirby never seemed to

care who inked him. This is a guess on my part because I never asked him, but

I think Kirby felt his style was so strong that it just didn't matter who inked

him, that his own style would come through the way he wanted."

Still the questions linger. How did Kirby do it? At what point did he

shift from being merely a prolific comic book artist to "Cosmic" Kirby, Imagineer

of Universes?

Searching through the many interviews he gave, some clues

can be gleamed.

"I did a strip called 'Hurricane,' which was a forerunner of the Thor

mythology,” Kirby said 1976. “And 'Hurricane' became 'Mercury', and

'Mercury’ became something else. I began to combine mythology with

present-day action. And, bit by bit, the format for a lot of the stuff I do

today was born at that time. And I can tell you I had a healthy interest in

mythology…. A lot of the elements of my work today were present in the

strips then."

"My definition of the word 'cosmic' is 'everywhere,'" Kirby once said.

"Outside of Earth, we have everywhere. They say there's nothing out there. I

say there is everything out there. We haven't got the means or the money

to reach it, but it's out there!"

In his work, Jack Kirby first started searching "out there" after World War

II. The initial vehicle was the horror comic, Black Magic.

“The war was still fresh in my mind,” he told Ray Wyman. ”I couldn’t

draw rotting corpses and limbs like that. I used the stories my mother told me,

the ones her mother passed on to her. They were the same ones that inspired

Frankenstein and Dracula in the movies. They were just old legends and stories

about the supernatural, and they were very effective.”

Soon, the Space Age dawned. Challengers of the Unknown and Sky

Masters were Kirby’s first probes into the new frontiers of the newest comic book

field.

"Challengers of the Unknown came from their own particular

time," Kirby once explained. "They were post-war characters. What the

Challengers of the Unknown were saying is, Where are we going now?

And that is a question I asked in all those stories. In the Challengers, I

put in new gimmicks and the machines that we already had. I took them

two-three stages ahead as to what we might have. I would take them five

years ahead. If we had certain generators, I would make a supergenerator

of some kind, and have my story revolve around that. What would it do

to human beings? Perhaps it would summon aliens from some foreign

planet. It gives us the power to do that."

Eventually, Challengers and Sky Masters gave rise to the Fantastic

Four, out of which the Marvel Universe would evolve.

Elsewhere, Kirby observed, "Challengers was like a movie to

me. The science fiction pictures were beginning to break, and I felt the

Challengers were a part of that genre. I began to think about three words

which have always puzzled me: What's out there? I thought, what's really

out there? Then I began to draw characters from outer space, characters

from beneath the earth, characters from anywhere that we couldn't think

of. The Challengers were us contending with these very strange people.

Yes, they were always precursors to the Fantastic Four--except

the Fantastic Four were mutations."

It's always been clear to me that if Kirby hadn't have left DC,

Challengers of the Unknown would have been the vehicle for his mature

period. Instead, it was Fantastic Four.

Could an answer be found in Kirby's combat experiences in Europe?

Cryptically, Kirby once said that he thought he saw God after he hit Normandy

Beach. What did he mean by that? He didn't say, and the interviewer didn't probe

the subject, alas.

In an obscure interview Jack Kirby gave to Warren Reece for Overstreet

Comic Book Quarterly in 1994, he told the following life-changing tale:

"I had a guy die on me once, during the war, and he looked up at me and

he said, 'What the hell happened? What happened?' And here I was, just a

schmoe from the East Side from New York City, y'know, and what do you answer

the guy? I told him, 'You happened.' See? And that was real.

" It got me to think how valuable human beings are; and at that moment

I discovered my own humanity, In that moment, I discovered everybody else's'.

And when the man was hit and he asked me ,'What happened', I could only

answer him---here was a man who was slipping away--and I said, 'You

happened.' I tried to tell this man what I really felt; and that's what I felt.

"I felt that he had happened, and that was the most important event

in the world; and it set me to thinking. I said, 'What the hell really happened?" I

mean, they feed us a bunch of bull in a lot of various books. What the hell do

these facts mean? See? And I sit down and it's a privilege to have the time

sometime, to sit down and just say, 'What the hell really happened?' Did Joshua

really knock down the damned walls with 60 trumpets? That's bull. Did our

Creator send out angels all over the universe carrying his messages? What were

they? Guys with feathered wings and night gowns? Horsefeathers! What

happened? Of course, my designs probably don't fit the real thing, but they're

a step on my part to find out what the real thing was. To me, story-telling is

very real."

Kirby touched on this search for spiritual truth when he talked about

his painting, "Angel", in Ray Wyman's Art of Jack Kirby.

"I did 'Angel' because I wanted to portray my version of what an angel

might have really looked like. All we have to go by is what somebody painted of

what somebody else thought they saw. To the primitive people who might have

witnessed an angel, the idea of flight without wings--feathered wings--was

incomprehensible. So a Godly creature, even if it did have wings, would be

interpreted very differently."

In the final analysis, the forces that produced the cosmic-powered

Jack Kirby of the 60s was a combination of human and creative experience, a

natural maturation of a man and his chosen field, and finally, the indefinable.

Of them all, it's the indefinable that most intrigues me.

"I don't know what my senses are comprised of," Kirby once

admitted. "I only know that I have senses; I have whatever senses that I have.

And I bring them all into play. I don't know what my senses are...I can't define

them. All my senses are hidden from me. But they move me...I know our own

place the universe. I can feel the vastness of it inside myself. I began to realize

with each passing fact what a wonderful and awesome place the universe is,

and that helped me in comics because I was looking for the awesome. I found

it in Thor. I found it in Galactus.... I felt that somewhere around the cosmos

are powerful things that we know nothing about, and from that came

Galactus. He was almost like a god, and that's where I came up with the

god concepts. There might be things out there that are ultimates compared

to us."

Elsewhere, Kirby claimed that Galactus was his take on the Almighty.

"Galactus was God, and I was looking for God," he once admitted.

"When I first came up with Galactus, I was very awed by him. I didn't know what

to do with the character. Everybody talks about God, but what the heck does he

look like? Well, he's supposed to be awesome, and Galactus is awesome to me.

I drew him large and awesome. No one ever knew the extent of his powers or

anything, and I think symbolically that's our relationship [with God]."

This quest inevitably led to Kirby's New Gods, which he considered his

ultimate exploration of what he called the "God Concept."

“And, of course, from characters like Galactus and the Watcher, I evolved

the Fourth World out of it, which was entirely Biblical, with New Genesis and

Apokolips and the gods of New Genesis and Apokolips, the evil gods, the good

gods, and gods that were trapped between good and evil, and. of course.

frustrated…. And now I’m working on The Eternals, which attacks the same

theme from a different direction. The god theme is coming in from another

another direction. This is a takeoff on von Dankien’s theory about space

gods being here in the past, and naturally I’m making a variation of that and

elaborating on it. In other words, the intriguing question is, suppose they come

back? What happens?”

Kirby didn’t literally believe in these theories, any more than he

worshipped Thor. He was a devout Jew, with the traditional beliefs of a

person of that ancient faith. But the God concept was something that fed and

fired his imagination.

“To put it short,” he once observed, “the gods are giant reflections of

ourselves. They are ourselves as we think we should be or we might be. They

are idealistic and dramatic versions. They make a lot more noise than we do and

therefore attract a lot more attention that we do. We feel that we’ve been fulfilled

in some way if our own images act out fantasies that we entertain.”

It all seems to go back to that question posed by that nameless dying

soldier on an unknown European battlefield. True meaning lies in the questions—

because the ultimate answers may be unknowable.

"I didn't mean to lead anybody onto any sort of religious path," Kirby

told FOOM in 1975. "I have no message myself. I feel that life is a series of very

interesting questions, and very poor answers. But I am willing to settle for the

questions. If the questions are interesting. I feel I evoke them in what I do. I feel

that should be good enough for everyone else. I know it sounds pontifical just

saying it, but I usually don't see anything but a really interesting series of good

questions to keep everybody busy for the rest of their lives and then let it go at

that. So I think the God Concept has these types of elements in it. In other

words--what happened; what was happening; what's going to happen. Those are

the essential questions for anybody, and that's why we create gods, create

myths. Because we say 'These people know what's happening.' In other words,

we need to justify ourselves , so we create gods. We say, 'These people are

responsible for what's happening. These people are responsible for what going

to happen.' Of course, when we say things like that, we create a mystic element

in our own thinking. And I think that's what we see in it. We see some sort of

mysticism to explain the reason for our own environment, for our own psyche.

There are reasons for many of the things we fail to understand, but just aren't

qualified to see them. I believe that's why the God Concept is powerful--it

involves us. It involves us inside. It involves us outside. And that's the God

Concept. So everybody thinks in that direction. I think everybody thinks about

destiny. The forces that rule destiny. And, of course. those forces that we call

God. That's a powerful concept that rules us entirely."

In the four-color universe that he created, Jack Kirby was nothing

less than a Creator God.

"In the last analysis you face the universe by yourself," Kirby observed.

"You can't face it for anybody else; you can't face it in anybody else. The final

analysis is what counts. That's you. The 'you' business is involved in the God

Concept, and that's very strong. You'll find out in the end, when everything gets

wiped away and you stand in your underwear, all that's left is you. And you find

in that moment your feelings are very strong. And you're all there is. So when we

yearn for gods, we're merely expressing that kind of feeling..... 'I'm all there

is; you're all there is....I believe Marvel's treatment of Thor is valid because it

projects Thor as we'd like to see him. Thor is us...as a personal superhero. And

I think it's true. I think that all of us see ourselves as superheroes, and we try to

justify it with mysticism. And it's true because it works."



ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: Some uncredited quotes first appeared COMIC SCENE,
THE COMICS JOURNAL, COMIC BOOK MARKEPLACE and THE JACK KIRBY
COLLECTOR.

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