POW! BAM! LumaCon 2025!

I had a terrific Saturday at my favorite little comics convention in the world, LumaCon, organized by librarians in the town of Petaluma, Calif., to promote reading and creativity. Admission is free, and it's a family-friendly event for people who like comics, manga, anime, fantasy, science fiction, cosplay, and related tomfoolery. 

I love it for a few reasons. One, I get to see my cartooning friends, some of whom are shown in the accompanying photos. Two, I love the energy of the event: everyone is there for fun and love, and these days that feels necessary. Three, I get to sell some books.

Fourth and foremost: I love to talk to young people (and some older ones) about making comics. Most people don't give much thought to how stories get published. It just seems like something that other people somehow magically do. But it's not magic, it's a process. I like to show my original art beside the printed page and describe how I turn THIS into THAT. I make the point that if you fill two sheets of paper with words and art, fold them in half and staple them in the middle to make an eight-page comic, you're doing pretty much the same thing I do. I have fancier toys, but that's not what's important. You told a story only you can tell. THAT'S important. 

I think demystifying the creative process matters. Every comic, painting, song, novel, etc. you've enjoyed was made by a real person. No tricks or shortcuts, they just sat down and did the work. I know that at least some kids need to hear that because, when I was young, I was lucky enough to see some original cartoon art and meet some published writers, and it meant the world to me. If they could do it, so could I. 

And if I could do it, so can you.

That's my pitch, anyway, and I met some young (and older) people at LumaCon who seemed receptive to it. That's why I keep going back. 

In addition to the friends I got photos of, I touched base with too many others to list. I enjoyed quick greetings with many and quality conversations with a few, with promises of "We've got to get together soon." I'd like that. 

Thanks, LumaCon! I hope to catch you next year.

My set-up. I accidentally arranged my table with my nonfiction books on the right and my fiction books on the left (or, as I sometimes called them, "my serious books and my happy books") and it turned out to be a nice way to talk about them. I'll remember that for the future. My portfolio is open to two pages of original art that became the two pages from my Avengers story in the "Marvel Super Stories" anthology on the table in front of them. I like to talk about process. I sat beside Maia Kobabe (on the right), which is interesting because Maia's book "GenderQueer" is the most banned book in America and yet I always overhear two or three people telling Maia how it saved their lives. Go figure.

An overview of the main LumaCon room. Notice all the young people sitting at tables and peddling their art. That's one of this con's main missions. I took this photo standing on a stage with tables for kids to glue together craft projects. Other stuff happens in the lobby and a few side rooms. It's a friendly full house. The LumaCon organizers don't track attendance, but I'd guess 2,000 or more people came over the course of the day.

A vaguely helpful signpost in the lobby.

The Art Room, which was nothing more than a quiet place with paper, pens and crayons for people to draw with. Isn't that terrific?

Some finished drawings pinned to the wall of the Art Room.

The Bake Sale! Every comics convention needs a bake sale. The kids at the table to the left sold baked goods, while the kids behind the window in the back wall were serious culinary students turning out legitimate food. I enjoyed a fancy chicken sandwich as well as a cup of mac and cheese with bacon.

Inside the Cosplay Room. Pros, semi-pros, and kids with cardboard boxes over their heads. Everybody's welcome.

A trio of cosplayers. I didn't notice the head peeking through the neck of the character on the left (Khonshu from Moon Knight) until just now. Smile!

Luckily, I did not witness this Dalek exterminating anyone.

My friend, cartoonist, and Schulz Studio staffer Denis St. John.

The creative couple of Emily C. Martin and Brett Grunig. We have comics in common but I really wanted to talk to them about printmaking, at which they are experts. Brett even teaches it, and it's something I'd like to get better at. 

Maia Kobabe in intense conversation with my friend, cartoonist, and Schulz Studio editor Lex Fajardo, with creative powerhouse Gio Benedetti (in yellow-sleeved shirt) at the table behind them. 

Librarian Nathan Libecap, one of the core group of high school and public librarians who put on LumaCon, and make it just a bit bigger and better, every year. The blue flannel shirt in the background is on cartoonist and Schulz Studio Creative Director Paige Braddock. 

As much as I enjoyed my day, walking down an aisle and finding Steve Oliff was the highlight for me. In some circles, Steve is a giant. He's won multiple Eisner and Harvey Awards, and is known primarily as a colorist. In fact, he was one of the first artists to do digital coloring in the early 1980s. A pioneer. Steve is also a few years older than me and grew up in Point Arena, on the northern California coast, and when I was a teenager his name was whispered in reverent tones at the local comic book shop as "the hometown guy who turned pro." That was a big deal. So I had a chance to babble all that to Steve, and I think he appreciated that not only did someone there know who he was but seemed familiar with his entire career. Being able to talk to someone like that as a peer is a real treat.

Rain did not dampen the enthusiasm of kids for pummeling each other with swords, pikes and maces under the covered walkways of the Petaluma Community Center. Astonishingly, no casualties were reported.

My last photo is dedicated to the librarians, not just for putting on this event but for being heroes of civilization in an increasingly hostile world.