Ditko in Opposition

When you enjoy art you have to take the creator of the art along with what he or she has created. And in doing so, you should accept that creator, warts and all.

Often, I find myself enjoying the work of someone with whom I would not want to associate on any other level. For instance, I love reading the fiction and poetry of Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs, and Allen Ginsberg. But I wouldn’t have wanted to spend one minute in the company of any of those men. Kerouac was a chronic drunk and a right wing jackass. William Burroughs was a murdering drug addict, and both he and Allen Ginsberg were pedophiles.

But I admire the artwork those creeps created.

I suppose this is how people who like the poetry of Ezra Pound must feel. They admire his skill as a poet, but remind themselves constantly of what a disgusting human he was.

I consider the world of comic books and their creators to be important parts of Americana. Comic books are a uniquely American art form. Things similar to comic books appeared before America coalesced, but by and large the form is completely our own. It rose out of New York publishing and flowered in the 1930s and 1940s and continued to grow from then and survives today. It is an important literary and art form, especially for Americans.

One great creator who came out of the second or third wave of creators spawned from the comic book industry was Steve Ditko. His work began to see print in the early 1950s, well after the pioneers of comics had established themselves, but relatively early in the history of comics. From the time I was an eight-year-old reading my Marvel Comic books, I admired Mr. Ditko’s style and would scour through the stacks of comics seeking out anything that he illustrated. His work was striking, imaginative, quirky, different. I liked it then and I continue to admire it now.

Even as a child I could tell that Ditko’s comic books were different in many ways. No one else drew like Ditko. There wasn’t another artist in the field who could understand anatomy the way he did and use that knowledge to adjust the images in such a way that one immediately recognized his work simply by glancing ever so briefly at a single panel. There was only one Ditko.

And of course the crowning achievement of his career was then, and remains, the Amazing Spider-Man. There had never been anything like Spider-Man, and there really has never been anything to equal it since. Ditko covered every base when he created Peter Parker and his alter ego, the Amazing Spider-Man. Who has since come up with iconography to match that costume? Those colors? What writer/artist has conceived a hero imbued with the qualities of that fantastic kid? Why has no one ever been able to create a comic book that held the sense of tension and angst that filled the pages with such emotion?

Also, beneath the surface, Ditko was teaching his readers subtle lessons. He was telling the boys and girls who were reading this book that people had moral choices to make with almost every decision. He was trying to tell his readers that there was a right way and a wrong way and that you had to think hard to take the proper path. These were messages that stuck with me from the days when I was a child. Comics were far deeper than many in those early days would admit. If Jack Kirby was every kid’s rabbi, then Steve Ditko had become the chief philosopher of comic book fandom.

Then, later in life as I came to inspect and read of Ditko’s personal philosophies—things spelled out in no uncertain terms in his self-published comics—I discovered that his political and chief philosophical beliefs were quite the opposite of my own. I found the path that he chose to celebrate to be utterly fascist. His beliefs were (and apparently are) diametrically opposed to mine. I am not as far to the left as he is to the right, but I cannot imagine a person whose political and philosophical and moral ideas to be any more repugnant.

And, yet, I still admire his work. I still enjoy his comics and I seek them out to read and see and collect. Why is that? What did I see in Ditko’s work that still attracts me?

There’s the obvious, yes. I just like looking at what he does with two dimensional images. He achieves things with pen and ink that no other comic book artist can equal. His work is different. It is singular.

And, in the end, Steve Ditko did teach me two important lessons, philosophically, that stuck with me from the times I was a kid and which echo now that I’m an adult:

He taught me that it’s important to be self-sufficient, and that one must take responsibility for one’s actions.

Those are two very good lessons, and universal ones. Those are things that transcend politics, and even the concepts of what is “good” and what is “right”.

Fans

There are things that I like in pop culture. Some of these things I like enough to consider myself a "fan". The word "fan" is an abbreviation for "fanatic". Now that latter term is not generally a nice word, but the shortened version means something far more acceptable. A "fan" buys autographs. A "fanatic" throws bombs at civilians.

I'm actually a fan of the works of a number of artists and writers. I consider myself a fan of the American writer Ray Bradbury and I consider myself to be a fan of the American comic book artist Steve Ditko. Both of these guys are very talented within their field of work, and both of them are right wing extremists when it comes to politics. That's okay, because I don't admire them because of who they vote for, but for the way they create works of art. And in Bradbury's case, it's clear to me and everyone else who bothers to look to see that he was a leftie in his youth and (like many other bitter old farts) became a right wing jerk in his twilight years.

Their political and philosophical views did not make me avoid, nor attract me to their works. In the case of Ray Bradbury he wrote so beautifully that I consumed every short story collection he published and scrounged for every magazine and anthology that carried his work. He started me down a road that eventually led me to becoming a published author. I owe him quite a lot for that, I love him for that, and I am his fan for that.

Similarly with Ditko I was attracted to his creations and his style of artwork in comics. He created two of my very favorite comic book characters: The Amazing Spider-Man and Doctor Strange. I have never used the word "genius" when it comes to comic book creators, but Steve Ditko comes pretty damned close to that term. His style is totally unique among comic book artists. No one else has ever been able to draw like him, and very few seem to use the comic book layout in quite so imaginative and intelligent a manner. But I'm convinced that the man is as crazy as a tick on a marble statue of Lassie. Still and all, I am one of his fans.

I'm so much a fan of the works of these two old gentlemen that I collect their various publications. I own first editions by Ray Bradbury, at least two of them autographed by him. Similarly, I own original comic books illustrated (and written) by Steve Ditko. I go out of my way to purchase these items and spend good money on them. I enjoy these things and I consider the collecting of them to be pleasant hobbies and actually good investments.

However, one thing that I did in the case of both men that I utterly regret is to join fan groups dedicated to them. In both cases I thought that I would read insightful commentary on the merits of the creations of Mr. Bradbury and Mr. Ditko. In both cases I was sadly mistaken.

For, in the case of both of these groups of so-called "fans", I found them to be packed with monsters who actually follow Bradbury and Ditko because of their crazed political ideals. It's one thing to like a man despite the fact that he's a fascist or a racist or an advocate of the rape of Mother Earth. But it's another thing entirely to actually agree with those ideas and admire the men who spout such bullshit. After joining a Bradbury group I found virtually the whole jumble of these folk to be right wing creeps. After a short time I vacated that online madhouse and moved on, trying to forget the insanity I'd seen there.

Later, having conveniently forgotten my experience with Mr. Bradbury's diseased fan base, I joined an online group of Steve Ditko fans. Once again I made the mistake of assuming that these people would want to discuss the various points concerning Ditko's artwork and his vast and varied career in the publishing industry. Oh, I knew there would be some discussion of his wacky political ideas, but I really couldn't believe that almost all of the people in the group would actually be adherents of fascism. I was wrong. After a while I realized that these creeps actually admired Mr. Ditko's diseased political and philosophical teachings! I was stunned, but why should I have been? I'd walked into a leech-infested swamp. I spread as much salt as I could on the infestation and left.

Oh, well. I guess I'll continue to be a fan of this or that. It's in my nature. But I'll never get used to discovering folk who wish to follow the rantings of tired senile old farts stewing in hatred and contempt for the common man who, strangely, admire them for that contempt.

Bob Swims with the Fishes

My all-time favorite first magnitude spring in Florida is Salt Springs. Once privately owned, the state of Florida now claims ownership and it's a public recreation area and is part of the Ocala National Forest with access for everyone. Thanks goodness for our state and federal governments. If not for the Federal government, private concerns would either destroy or lock up all of the great places in our nation. If you love corporations and hate the government, fuck you on toast. You Tea Party, Republican Party, Libertarian Party, and Objectivist jerks can all kiss my happy white ass.

Although it's far from the ocean, the fresh water upwelling from deep in the earth passes through some highly mineralized strata and emerges in a relatively salty state. It's not as salty as sea water, but it's definitely not fresh water as we generally define it.

Because of the mineral content, plants and animals that one does not associate with fresh water are present in the spring and its run. Sea weeds fill the basin and are home to things like blue crab and ocean-going mullet. Just swimming around and looking at creatures like crabs, mullet, and pipefish is a wondrous thing in this place where one does not expect to see them.

The day we went the weather was pretty much picture-perfect. The air was warm, the water was beautiful, and the skies were bright and sunny. After a normal amount of time in the springs, Carole and Andy were ready to head out. But I couldn't be budged. I have never before, nor since, had so much fun swimming and snorkeling in a spring. I've floated in some amazing first magnitude springs, but this one was unique. I just couldn't get enough of it.

Finally, though, as the day was wearing on, I had to admit that we needed to head back to our campsite. Reluctantly I climbed out, dried off, and we pointed the truck back to the Juniper Springs Recreation Area where we were camped.

View looking back toward the head of the spring. (Click to enlarge.)

As spring runs go, this is a short one. It flows almost directly into the river and then down toward Lake George.

A school of mullet finds salty refuge in the spring. They were everywhere, swimming peacefully with the other fishes, and with me.

Good old Bob swimming directly over the main spring vent. Below me were all sorts of saltwater plants and animals. The blue crabs in here were absolutely enormous (no fishing or crabbing allowed).

Roughly about the time Carole was expecting me to get out of the spring and think about heading back to our travel trailer. Fuck that.

The more she wanted me out, the more I refused.

"Come and get me, copper!" said the overgrown kid.

Well, we're headed down toward the western panhandle of Florida. We're planning to explore some new springs, rivers, and parks. I'll try to post as I can.