Monday, November 2, 2009
Alfredo Alcala!
What can you say about a talent of this magnitude. I'm a comic book fan of the Bronze Age. That means I was weaned on the work of Kirby, Buscema, Infantino, Toth, Kane and other masters while getting a glimpse of upcoming talents like Wrightson, Windsor-Smith, Kaluta, Starlin, Staton, Byrne and the like. And while all this "local" talent was developing and finding its way, there burst onto the scene new names, with distinctily foreign qualities, but with undeniable talent. Immediately guys like Mayo, DeZuniga, and Redondo came into my view and I was rocked by the skill and craftsmanship. That was what I always felt about any of the foreign guys who took over on some book I followed, that despite there clearly being a different source for the inspiration of the art, there was no denying the professionalism and the sheer craftsmanship of each and every job. These fellows knew how to draw.
And at the top of that list of Alfredo Alcala. I first came to know Alcala as an inker on my favorite artist Big John Buscema, in the black and white recesses of The Savage Sword of Conan. This Alcala guy gave the lusty pencils of Buscema a gothic quality, making the pages appear almost like reliefs, cut into wood or metal. The linework was lush, detailed and it all contributed to the overall effect. I was astonished at the sheer work that seemed to go into each page, line after line after line after line all finding this detail and defining that shadow. Alcala elevated the work to something truly spectacular.
Then I started to find his work elsewhere and even some pencilling jobs here and there. I'll have to admit that I will always prefer Alcala as an inker as opposed to a complete artist. His work while impressive always seemed to lack sometimes the scope and heft he got from other layouts by Buscema and the like. His storytelling was never in question, but the romantic proportions of the characters weren't in his vocabulary when he drew it all himself. His people were more mundane, wonderfully rendered, but less opulent somehow.
I eventually saw Voltar, or pages from it and I amended my attitude somewhat. Clearly Alcala could draw with drama and power when the material demanded it. Voltar was the proof.
But the most fantastic thing about Alcala was still a secret from me. All those lush pages of linework were rendered it seemed at superhuman speed. The numbers I've read attributed to Alcala astonish even someone familiar with Jack Kirby. Alcala was a machine, cranking fantastic work at record speeds. The secret though really ain't one though, as I learned eventually about Kirby. It's speed sure, but it's mostly the steady beat of production, keeping the nose to the board and the pen or brush constantly working that created these legendary page rates. Alcala was a magnificent artist, he was a master craftsman, and he was a blue-collar laborer with a work ethic that shined through the long days and nights.
When Alfredo Alcala passed away it was indeed a sad day in comics. He was a master, and he was a very admirable man. I'm lucky to have been there to see the work he produced and to have appreciated him, at least a little bit, in his time.
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