I know very little about actual physical comics. I haven't picked up a graphic novel since before
Sandman readers comprised of fangirls and Amanda Palmer. Plus, I'm now on my lonesome for the weekend. My dear husband is now working both Saturday and Sunday, which leaves me bored and/or watching stuff on the Netflix.
Volunteering at the Stumptown comics festival, as a way to kill a little bit of time and learn some stuff about local comics seemed like a not terrible way to spend a Sunday. I was a little pissy at first, I wasn't sure where to go, or what to do and there were people on the door who very much looked like they wanted to tell me where to go. But I got my badge and set up shop on the door. The initial impressions I'd had, where I thought maybe the volunteer effort was a tad disorganized were completely wrong.
Zeo Cohen, the volunteer wrangler, wrangled us very well. Somehow he managed to keep track of a bazillion volunteers and things that needed to be done. My first shift was checking stamps, guiding people to the ticket line, handing out singing tickets and checking badges. For the most part; exhibitors, authors, staff and press were all very forgiving about my ignorance. In fact, most people were friendly if a little startled by a chirpy "GOOD MORNING" at 10:00 on a Sunday. There was one group of beautiful dark haired women and their friends who swanned in with coffee and refused to show badges, stamps, or make their friends pay. But hell, I'm a volunteer, and not a terribly intimidating one at that.
They relieved me for lunch, which was most urgent. See, the Saturday before I'd had a wax over at Dragontree on Thurman. What happened? I got wax burn on both of my eyelids and I rather looked like the waxer had actually beaten the crap out of me. By time I discovered that no one works at the Clarins counter at Macy's on Sundays (really?) had the woman at the Clinique counter help me and grabbed some lunch, I was ready to head back. My next post was panel directions. I stood in between the three rooms and motioned right and left, I talked to people to get a grip on what was happening and then suggested things to passerbys. I've never been a huge fan of panels at cons, but the topics seemed so interesting and kind of inspiring. I regretted not going out on the Saturday.
My last job, and by far my favorite, was the Free Table in the Doubletree lobby. By time I took over the convention was winding down and very few were on their way to the coffee stand. But I had some lovely chats with people who came by, including a reporter for the Tribune, Jeremy of Jeremy's British TeeVee night and one of the guys over from Gunbaby Graphics. And at 5:00 I fled to go grab the last hour of the comics festival.
There were some wonderful things there. But a lot that I wasn't feeling either. For one, and I think this might just be my age showing, it feels like there's nothing new happening. I made a crack about one of the freebie comics containing sexual violence and then others that were life affirming. "I want Life Affirming Sexual Violence." But it's true. Both of those devices are so overused, so cliche that they don't grip me anymore. Everything these days feels like it was derived from webcomics about sardonic groups of friends with a female focus who are Not Like Everyone Else (and I like
Girls With Slingshots,) manga (god help us all,) the usual superhero stuff or Roman Dirge/Jhonen Vasquez horror based.
There were a few notable exceptions. And I'll leave the reviews to the pros and just list who I liked below. The volunteer force was pretty good though. They had that thing covered beyond covered and was by far better organized than most. A++ would definitely do again.
Stuff I liked:
Gunbaby GraphicsBill MudronLuchadores in SpacePDX PipelineStumptown comicsfest Flickr pool
