That cartoon always works. |
LumaCon 2--the second annual comics convention put on by local librarians for kids and families in the town of Petaluma, Calif.--is over, although I'm sure there are still librarians folding up tables and sweeping up napkins as I type. The con aims to get students and fans in the same room with comics pros, often sitting side by side. I think they fulfill their mission spectacularly.
Last year's LumaCon was popular enough that they moved to a bigger site for this year's, with actual separate rooms for activities and panels. The fear was that scaling up would ruin the charm. They needn't have worried. Any con that has a bake sale, a costume parade, and a Lego room is doing everything right in my book.
As an invited guest I sold some books at a table and took part in a panel on "Comics as Literature." They gave me a gift basket. Nobody's ever given me a gift basket to come to their con before.
My gift basket included cuff links. I'm still trying to figure that out. But they're cool!
LumaCon was also free! I told organizer Nathan Libecap I thought that was insane, and he explained that they couldn't charge admission because library blah-blah school district blargy-blargh. There's some good reason. It's still insane.
The bulk of the floor space was occupied by Artists' Alley. The building lobby hosted bookstores, comic book sellers, and toy vendors. Culinary arts students served teriyaki and sushi. Side rooms hosted Magic card tournaments, craft tables, Legos, and quiet spaces for students and pros to talk. There were plenty of costumed folks, though I didn't think to take any good photos of them. Late in the day, organizers announced that 2400 people had attended. That felt like a good number.
For me, selling books is secondary to seeing my local cartooning friends and meeting new people interested in comics. One story that sums up my LumaCon experience: a father and grandfather brought their autistic boy, I'd guess about 14, to show people his drawings. At the previous LumaCon they'd bought him a book on "How to Draw Dragonball Z," and for the past year he'd meticulously mimicked those manga lessons, but also done some original work in his own style. We all talked for several minutes--the boy not so much talking as shoving one drawing after another at me from a manila folder. I gently critiqued and encouraged. Afterward, Dad took me aside and explained that they had feared his son would never talk, until they figured out that comics unlocked his mind. The boy could say that Superman's cape is red. Reading and drawing comics changed his life.
By the way, my wife Karen and daughters Robin and Laura came and were a big help manning my table, but I'm forbidden to show photographic proof. I also wish I'd had more time to talk to several personal friends who dropped by to say "Hi," but it was great to see them. Thanks especially to our friend Marion, who sent us some of her own photos.
The south and north sides of Artists' Alley. I was smack in the middle. Cafe and bake sale are to the right rear of the bottom photo. In the foreground right is a little drawing/coloring table. |
Writer, editor, teacher, and my pal Jason Whiton always stocks the most interesting table. |
I'm in the center of this photo, so absorbed talking with Jason on the right that I totally missed I was being stalked by Little Ralphie from "A Christmas Story." Truly, a pink nightmare. |
Schulz Studio pals Art Roche and Paige Braddock ("Jane's World," "Stinky Cecil") with Paige's wife Evelyn, who thought she had successfully leaned out of the shot. |
Another Schulz Studio pal, Lex Fajardo, flogged his great multi-volume "Kid Beowulf" series. Lex and I also did a panel together at midday. |
Cartoonist Tom Beland ("True Story Swear to God," Marvel), me, Lex, and moderator Nathan Libecap doing our panel on "Comics as Literature." I think it went well. |
These are the expressions Karen got when she told us to "look thoughtful." Lex is better at thinking deep thoughts than I am. |
I don't mean to oversell it. After all, LumaCon is just a little comics convention, but I find it uniquely fun and satisfying. It's small, intimate, charming, low-key. The opportunity to mix with people who are just there because they love comics is rarer than you'd think. The people organizing it are motivated solely by their love of the medium and their students (they'd better be, because they're evidently forbidden to make a dime on it). They treat their guests right (cuff links!).
I told a couple of them that, like Linus's pumpkin patch, LumaCon is the most sincere comics convention I know. Still is.