Gina Siciliano's I Know What I Am is a formidable work of comics scholarship, including 50 pages devoted to detailed notes and bibliographic sources about the fearless artist, Artemisia Gentileschi.
In Kate Lacour's graphic novel of imagined medical oddities, Vivisectionary, the viewer is the main character and the images the deranged antagonist.
Graphic fiction BTTM FDRS drags up our culture's biggest, ugliest globs of unconscious sewage and spreads it across a white page for us to see and acknowledge.
Inés Estrada's disturbingly plausible imagination effectively beams Alienation's dystopic future into readers' heads via the antiquated analog technology of ink and paper.
Poignant motifs travel through Marcelo D'Salete's graphic novel of Brazil's Angola Janga, a kingdom of runaway slaves.
The Hernandez Bros.' Love and Rockets graphic fiction series has created a community of misfits filled with as much anger as warmth, with as many mistakes as wisdom, and with as much sadness as joy.
While Manuele Fior's Red Ultramarine is far from abstract expressionism, it is a pleasure to find an artist-writer who regards the art of his images to be equal to the narrative they convey.
Danish artist Rikke Villadsen appears to be spinning a circular tale-within-a-tale with no origin or end points and only tragic escapes in his graphic fiction work, The Sea.
Charles Forsman and Max de Radiguès' graphic fiction collaboration, Hobo Mom, is successful both in its minimalistic visual approach and its realistic treatment of the emotional dynamics of an estranged but well-intentioned family.
In Parallel Lives, O. Schrauwen literally draws attention to the basic building blocks of comics, science fiction, and our cultural sexual norms.
Whether a general commentary on American greed, or on a personal loss of self, or something else, there's an adroit depiction here that can be unexpectedly moving.
Tyler's excitement and seemingly never-ending thrill from the point of view of her younger self as a Beatles fan nearly leaps from the page.