Barry Windsor-Smith: Opus 2
align=left border=1> It's months overdue, but Opus 2 has finally arrived in stores, and for anyone interested in comics art, comics, art, and the unique life story Windsor-Smith is telling in this series, it's been well worth the wait.
In the interests of full disclosure (to coin a phrase), I should admit as I begin my comments on this gorgeous book that I contributed in some small part to its creative process. Months ago, BWS asked me to review the manuscript for the ongoing "Time Rise," narrative, and he was gracious enough to thank me in the acknowledgements at the beginning of the book.
While that's maybe one of the biggest honours of my life, I have to admit that my entire contribution was a brief commentary that could best be summed up as "This is perfect, don't change a thing."
And it is, talking about the portion of "Time Rise" included in this edition, perfect. It's just what readers of Opus 1 were hoping for, me among them. In that earlier volume (the fastest-selling book in the history of Fantagraphics Books, despite its hefty 50.00 cover price), Windsor-Smith set the stage for the unfolding of a part of his life story that he has chosen not to discuss for decades, that in fact he spent a good portion of that time in denial over. Yet it's a part of his life that changed his approach to his art forever, and has, as he has come to accept and examine it, changed his approach to his very life, as well. As such, it's an essential story that anyone who appreciates his singular, visionary creative process really must read.
The thing that bothered me about "Time Rise" in Opus 1 was not the lack of detail; this is a huge, sprawling, life-changing series of events BWS wants to share with his readers. A prelude was certainly needed, so that readers could understand where exactly the author was at when he first began to be affected by the extraordinary events that manifested themselves in the mid 1970s.
What concerned me was that Barry might pull back from going into detail, perhaps as a response to the reaction to the events that he really only hinted at in Opus 1. I should have known better.
Throughout his career, Barry Windsor-Smith has taken chances, and chosen the road less easily travelled. In the wake of the success of Conan in the 1970s, he could probably have carved out a John Byrne-like career for himself, levelling his craft off at a certain point, and churning out decades of well-regarded hackwork. Instead, he virtually disappeared from comics, founding a company dedicated to the production of high-quality prints unlikely to appeal to all but the most discerning of comics readers.
While the world in general (and Windsor-Smith in particular, I am sure) is better off for the existence of the works he created in that period, the comics world moved on, the mainstream sinking deeper and deeper into mediocrity, while the alternative branch creates the occasional treasure that is appreciated by a few thousand readers at most, out of a potential audience of billions the world over. It is, in the grand scheme of things, as if the best comics being created today don't even exist.
Windsor-Smith could have made a Todd McFarlane-like fortune for himself, one supposes, if he had been able to stifle his instincts and dreams and turn out mindless crap like Spawn. Fanboys young and old would have lined up to buy it, either on the strength of the artist's reputation from an earlier age, or believing (as many did in the mid-90s) that all comics will someday be worth a fortune, and that day is two weeks from next Wednesday.
But he took chances, instead, and for many years, the comics world and Barry Windsor-Smith were pretty well mutually exclusive. He would drop in occasionally and do work with Valiant, Dark Horse and even Image, but only BWS: Storyteller really expressed the true depth of his talent, and the market was just not right for that visionary work. The general consensus of that work? Its oversized format made it impossible to bag and board. That, and that alone, is given as the reason for the title's failure. I want you to know that if that's the reason you didn't pick up BWS: Storyteller, you really are a demented freak who should be locked up and forgotten about. But do your research, ask your retailer: too big for bags and boards. Un-fucking-believable.
Visionary work, though, is what you get in Opus 2, on every single page. The text, "Time Rise," is a brave choice for Windsor-Smith, as he asks his readers to take a leap of faith and share with him the discoveries he has made about his own life, and about the nature of his own personal reality. Windsor-Smith began a journey with the 1999 publication of Opus 2, and that journey is moved along considerably here, with personal revelations that will, at the very least, intrigue readers with their implications. At best, I can see where this book could change the lives of some readers with its examination and acceptance that, as BWS hinted at in Storyteller's The Paradoxman, "This is not reality."
"Time Rise," of course, is accompanied, contrasted and complimented by sketches, paintings, and comics art on every page. There are rarely (and never-before) seen pieces that will delight longtime fans, and familiar works that in some cases are given a new spin. All are presented on heavy white paper with meticulous production values that raise the bar for future releases of this sort (and are likely to blame in large part for the delay in the release of this second volume).
As a glimpse in to the mind of an artist, this book is indispensible. At $50.00, it's a bargain. I'd take it over any 30 Marvel or DC comics you care to offer me, to compare dollar for dollar. And unlike those flimsy, irrelevant pamphlets, Opus 2 provides intrigue, beauty, mystery, and genuine human drama, all the more wondrous because it's a true story. The pictures are beautiful, but the text is the true treasure, and one that I urge you to immerse yourself in.