MoCCA 07!
Well, I meant to have a post preceding this one announcing our rare public appearance at the MoCCA 2007 festival. But I botched that, well AND good. However, if you get that time machine working, you can come visit us at that show at table A53. We'll have been ass to ass with the fine folks at NBM. And it will have been great seeing you there.
Cliff Face Comics had a great time at the show, easily our best one to date. We're still trying to recover the strength in our knees and the feeling back in our feet, but the feeling in our hearts and the strength of our love for everyone who stopped by to say hello is so strong it's corny like maize.
Glancing at my notes from the show, I'd like to toss salad thank yous to friggin' Ed Cunard, funnin' Kevin Church, falgroggin' Ben Birdie, frappin' Chris Beckett, fribstactin' Sakura Maku, flippin' Matt Reidsma, fapin' Jon Meijas, fonduin' Neil Alien, frontin' Joe McCulloch, falippin' Maxeem Konardy, firdin' Jamie Tanner, frainin' Liz Baillie, fassbenderin' Marianne R. Petit, fonkin' Cathy Leamy, fozzin' Bill Roundy, faulin' Brian Musikoff, freddyin' Mike Dawson, fodegin' Randy Chang, floggin' Marianne Ways, fizzin' Isaac Cates, forgeousin' Liz Gorinsky, foistin' Derek, fudgin' Yol Lyn Hodde, fuzzboodlin' Hans Rickheit, fabstractin' Andre Molitoui, freapin' Matt Feazell, foistin' Alec Longstreth, fabregein' fengshuin' Nick from Hanley's, farkpluggin' Austin English from Forbidden Planet, falkin' Sean, freakin' Tony Shenton and all the people so engaging I completely forgot to write their names down. A few people even said such nice things about our books, I was too busy testing them for blindness to get their names.
I'm sure Marcos has a lot of people he'd like to personally thank as well, but he's spending the week in a land as yet untouched by the ever-pervasive, Illuminati-tentacled internet: Cleveland, Ohio.
And it wasn't just a great weekend for guilt-tripping invisible digital internet friends into making unfavorable exchanges of hard-earned cash money for our half-assed wares. No, it was also a great weekend for getting really drunk on other people's dimes (ever since the U.S. Mint started trying to cut costs by making dimes 53% alcohol by volume, I haven't had a sober day). Brian Musikoff and Kaiju Big Battle sponsored a party of delirious proprtions. New friends were made, bottom shelf whiskey was guzzled, old friends were embarrassed, and I got to dance with a rock-headed monster. Somehow, I managed to miss the monsters pole dancing, but I did see pictures.
Of course, it was ALSO one of the best shows I've seen for quality works. I dropped a few C-Notes for the first time at a convention since my very first one. There really was very little available that I wasn't impressed by (in fact, I don't think I saw anything really bad — but I probably just got distracted before I saw your table). The majority of publishers were pricing things to sell, which one one of the BIGGEST changes I've seen at a convention. Admittedly, I didn't buy anything from well-distributed publishers, and there were two occasions where Marcos and I said, "Twenty-Five Dollars?! REALLY?"), but the vast majority of people had prices in line with what you'd expect to spend on their books, and some continued to greatly under-value their books (I'm looking at YOU, Paping and Partyka). In the end, my stack is totally stacked with self-published, hand-sewn, hand-stapled, screen-printed, xeroxed, recycled, hand-cut, hand-bound, laser-printed, linocut, stickered, bagged, small-press, tiny-press, micro-press, felt-covered, enveloped, glossy pro-pressed, corrugated, hand-folded, Scandinavian-translated, bloodied, sweated out, teared over comics.
Regrets? I have a few. I felt terrible for the people on the seventh floor, but basked in the added space downstairs. I really don't think there was nearly enough overflow to justify the expansion and cripple hard-working cartoonists. Maybe if the tables upstairs were all free, I'd think differently. Maybe a better solution is not letting certain companies rent 15 tables — just a crazy thought (my crazier thought is that maybe billion dollar publishing concerns should be discouraged from attending, but hey, that's what it's all about... right?).
I regret not meeting up with Justin Jordan. I went to his table three times and never found him. I regret not getting a chance to talk to Peter from Bodega, who always makes my convention experience a better one. I regret missing the Bries table. I regret missing YOUR table. I regret being inarticulate when you tried to talk to me. I regret missing all the other parties with their free booze. I regret not cleaning the shit out of my ears before you told me where you were going after the show. I regret going to the show and missing my cousin's graduation party.
But those aren't the worst regrets in the world. Overall, it was an awesome weekend of comics COMICS COMICS COMICS.
Cliff Face Comics had a great time at the show, easily our best one to date. We're still trying to recover the strength in our knees and the feeling back in our feet, but the feeling in our hearts and the strength of our love for everyone who stopped by to say hello is so strong it's corny like maize.
Glancing at my notes from the show, I'd like to toss salad thank yous to friggin' Ed Cunard, funnin' Kevin Church, falgroggin' Ben Birdie, frappin' Chris Beckett, fribstactin' Sakura Maku, flippin' Matt Reidsma, fapin' Jon Meijas, fonduin' Neil Alien, frontin' Joe McCulloch, falippin' Maxeem Konardy, firdin' Jamie Tanner, frainin' Liz Baillie, fassbenderin' Marianne R. Petit, fonkin' Cathy Leamy, fozzin' Bill Roundy, faulin' Brian Musikoff, freddyin' Mike Dawson, fodegin' Randy Chang, floggin' Marianne Ways, fizzin' Isaac Cates, forgeousin' Liz Gorinsky, foistin' Derek, fudgin' Yol Lyn Hodde, fuzzboodlin' Hans Rickheit, fabstractin' Andre Molitoui, freapin' Matt Feazell, foistin' Alec Longstreth, fabregein' fengshuin' Nick from Hanley's, farkpluggin' Austin English from Forbidden Planet, falkin' Sean, freakin' Tony Shenton and all the people so engaging I completely forgot to write their names down. A few people even said such nice things about our books, I was too busy testing them for blindness to get their names.
I'm sure Marcos has a lot of people he'd like to personally thank as well, but he's spending the week in a land as yet untouched by the ever-pervasive, Illuminati-tentacled internet: Cleveland, Ohio.
And it wasn't just a great weekend for guilt-tripping invisible digital internet friends into making unfavorable exchanges of hard-earned cash money for our half-assed wares. No, it was also a great weekend for getting really drunk on other people's dimes (ever since the U.S. Mint started trying to cut costs by making dimes 53% alcohol by volume, I haven't had a sober day). Brian Musikoff and Kaiju Big Battle sponsored a party of delirious proprtions. New friends were made, bottom shelf whiskey was guzzled, old friends were embarrassed, and I got to dance with a rock-headed monster. Somehow, I managed to miss the monsters pole dancing, but I did see pictures.
Of course, it was ALSO one of the best shows I've seen for quality works. I dropped a few C-Notes for the first time at a convention since my very first one. There really was very little available that I wasn't impressed by (in fact, I don't think I saw anything really bad — but I probably just got distracted before I saw your table). The majority of publishers were pricing things to sell, which one one of the BIGGEST changes I've seen at a convention. Admittedly, I didn't buy anything from well-distributed publishers, and there were two occasions where Marcos and I said, "Twenty-Five Dollars?! REALLY?"), but the vast majority of people had prices in line with what you'd expect to spend on their books, and some continued to greatly under-value their books (I'm looking at YOU, Paping and Partyka). In the end, my stack is totally stacked with self-published, hand-sewn, hand-stapled, screen-printed, xeroxed, recycled, hand-cut, hand-bound, laser-printed, linocut, stickered, bagged, small-press, tiny-press, micro-press, felt-covered, enveloped, glossy pro-pressed, corrugated, hand-folded, Scandinavian-translated, bloodied, sweated out, teared over comics.
Regrets? I have a few. I felt terrible for the people on the seventh floor, but basked in the added space downstairs. I really don't think there was nearly enough overflow to justify the expansion and cripple hard-working cartoonists. Maybe if the tables upstairs were all free, I'd think differently. Maybe a better solution is not letting certain companies rent 15 tables — just a crazy thought (my crazier thought is that maybe billion dollar publishing concerns should be discouraged from attending, but hey, that's what it's all about... right?).
I regret not meeting up with Justin Jordan. I went to his table three times and never found him. I regret not getting a chance to talk to Peter from Bodega, who always makes my convention experience a better one. I regret missing the Bries table. I regret missing YOUR table. I regret being inarticulate when you tried to talk to me. I regret missing all the other parties with their free booze. I regret not cleaning the shit out of my ears before you told me where you were going after the show. I regret going to the show and missing my cousin's graduation party.
But those aren't the worst regrets in the world. Overall, it was an awesome weekend of comics COMICS COMICS COMICS.
posted by Justin Fox at 11:11 AM
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