An ODDLY COMPELLING Conversation with DENIS KITCHEN

Luminary of the independent press, Denis Kitchen, joins Interviews Editor, Andrew Irvin, to discuss the imminent launch of the Oddly Compelling documentary, now live on Kickstarter, in preparation for the documentary’s release in autumn of 2025,

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COMIC BOOK YETI: Denis, it is a profound honor to have you join us in the Yeti Cave today. Before we get into the background behind your documentary, I recently had the chance to chat with Philippe LaBaune regarding the Will Eisner exhibition you helped put together. How has the reception been thus far?

DENIS KITCHEN: I attended the recent opening, which was packed. Lots of fans and chatter and marveling at the art. Philippe’s gallery was a terrific venue for some truly lovely and inspiring Eisner originals, many of which had never before been available for sale. 

CBY: I'm glad to hear it went well! Putting the past on display as never seen before seems an apt theme to draw upon, given the forthcoming documentary, Oddly Compelling, provides a retrospective of your decades of dedicated support of the independent comics industry. Some people like reminiscing, and others prefer to live in the present, or focus on the future. In your current semi-retirement, what do you most value about moments of reflection (either in solitude or through discourse such as this interview)?  

DK: Hah! Excellent question. I certainly try to keep at least one foot firmly planted in the present, but cooperating with the Oddly Compelling documentary-in-progress has definitely conjured more reflection than usual. Doing so is not unpleasant for me, even though there were difficult times when my personal life was painful, or comics industry crises, when Kitchen Sink Press teetered on the edge, or, later, when I had to deal with corporate vultures. But when I look back, I feel mostly a sense of accomplishment at the many artists and works I published. I consider myself extraordinarily lucky to have been part of the underground comix movement, and to have participated in the evolution of comics from stapled pamphlets to graphic novels, and to have seen comics go from the lowest cultural status in America to earning actual respect. Add to that all the friendships I’ve had with artists and colleagues, and it’s been a most satisfying life. 

CBY: Well, I'm glad we've got a positive note on which to set the tone today. In your interview last year with Nora Hickey and Amaris Ketcham, you mentioned being involved “in half a dozen documentary films.” Oddly Compelling has been brought to the screen in collaboration with filmmakers Soren Christiansen and Ted Intorcio. What other films are in the works, and how has this endeavor stood apart from other screen projects featuring your involvement? 

DK: I appeared in last year’s Married to Comics, about the interpersonal and professional lives of cartoonists Carol Tyler and Justin Green, done by John Kinhart. I was also in his earlier film Pigheaded about Skip Williamson. Another recent one was No Straight Lines: The Rise of Queer Comics, by Vivien Kleiman, streaming now via PBS. Some years back I appeared in two different documentaries about Will Eisner: one by Brazilian filmmaker Marisa Furtado, and the other by Andrew Cooke.

Two documentaries that I participated in are being released fairly soon: Rise of the Renegades, from Peter Ventrella, is about underground and indie comics. The other is The Mad Genius of Harvey Kurtzman, directed by Bart Simpson. Yes, that’s his real name. There’s also a doc about the controversial cartoonist Al Capp that I’m working on as a producer with Andrew Cooke. It’s based on the biography I co-wrote about Capp.

I also licensed Secrets of the Saucer People, a doc out soon from Alchemy Werks, based on the card set published by Kitchen Sink. And David Walker (grandson of Mort) is doing a documentary called Dare to Be Dumb, examining the growing cult around Ernie Bushmiller’s “Nancy & Sluggo,” and so some of my darker secrets will be revealed in that one. 

What distinguishes Oddy Compelling from the others, of course, is that I’m not just a talking head or behind the scenes: it’s about me personally, my career, and about the odd things I collect and a strange art installation in my woodss, for better or for worse. One thing I’m loving about Oddly is that Ted, an animator, has brought some of my weird creatures to life with my voice over. There are some examples of that in their trailer..

CBY: You have just padded out my watchlist substantially, Denis. The Nancy & Sluggo memes have been creeping into my feeds, so I'm keen to hear what that's all about. You’ve also partnered with Tinto Press in recent years, owned and operated by Ted Intorcio, who has built the publishing company into a full-time affair over the past couple decades. Everything Including the Kitchen Sink, an extensive interview you undertook with John B. Cooke, is available through the Tinto Press site, so can you relate a bit about how you two met, and the affinity you’ve found for working with Ted, in lieu of pursuing publications with older or larger established publishers?  

DK: Over the years I’ve worked with large and prestigious publishers like Abrams; W. W. Norton; Little, Brown; Simon & Schuster, and others. There are certainly advantages in terms of the monetary rewards and market penetration, but at the same time, the downside is getting lost in big organizations, complex office politics, and sometimes creative frustrations. Bigger money is no longer an allure for me, and so in terms of maximum satisfaction, give me an earnest smaller publisher any day.  

In 2016, I was a guest at DINK, a short-lived indie comic con in Denver. At one point I was perusing the exhibitors room, stopped at Ted’s table and we hit it off right away. That evening we had drinks at a famous local bar, and the next thing I knew we were plotting projects. Aside from him just being a swell guy, he’s an animator, as noted, a terrific designer and a cartoonist. I’d been creating strange spontaneous images for many years drawn with Sharpies and thinner pens on chipboard, the stiff recycled sheets at the base of writing tablets and legal pads. An earlier collection, called Denis Kitchen’s Chipboard Sketchbook was published around 2010, but my drawings in this vein have since become much more refined and trippy. Tinto published Creatures From the Subconscious a couple years back, exactly as I envisioned it, and we’ll soon be discussing a sequel. 

That’s not to say I won’t be working with more established publishers too. My next book—no final name yet—will be a collection of 3-D chipboard creatures for Fantagraphics. It’ll be on thick stock, with 3-D glasses included, in a format very similar to their outstanding Frank in 3-D book by Jim Woodring.

CBY: Oh, I've done a few trippy free drawings on chipboard, and it has a great texture - I can imagine what you've got in store, and I'm hoping we get to see some glimpses amongst the new work included in Oddly Compelling. Solidarity with independent creators has been a cornerstone of your work, and the entirety of the comics industry is indebted to your efforts establishing and leading the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund. Since its inception, it has become the preeminent organization for protecting the Constitutional First Amendment rights of comic creators. I know you’re no longer leading the organization, but given your depth and breadth of experience, in light of the active abrogation of the Constitution by the current administration, what do you see as the most effective way for the organization to address the growing threats to free speech in the United States?

DK: Thanks for bringing that topic up. We live in increasingly dangerous times and we’re seeing constant attempts to remove books from local and school libraries nationwide. Many or most such efforts are stymied but the attacks seem relentless. Comics retailers over the years have also been subjected to the efforts of local authorities to restrict what titles can be displayed or sold. When I founded the CBLDF in the late ’80s after the arrest of a shop manager in Illinois, our early efforts almost entirely revolved around persecuted retailers, but now the dangers are more layered. The explosion and easy accessibility of certain LGBTQ titles, like Gender Queer, and even Art Spiegelman’s Maus, has led to public outbursts of parental anger in an already politically volatile climate, fanned by elements on both the left and right who want to restrict what we can read or even create. It forces all of us in general - and the CBLDF in particular - to be more vigilant than ever to protect our fragile First Amendment rights.  

CBY: On the topic of solidarity, your foundation of the CBLDF followed earlier engagement with the Socialist Labor Party, which was influenced in the 19th century by Daniel De Leon, one of the strongest early proponents of industrial union theory, in which the means of production and the means of governance are derived from transfer of control to workers councils, reverting sovereignty of civil society from power accumulation in the established capital bases of the ruling class. Given the efforts by the ruling class to dismantle the remaining vestiges of democratic institutions, what would you like to say to the creative professionals (and wider comic reading audience) about how to address this moment in American history?

DK: You’ve clearly done your homework, Andrew. No one in comics ever asks me about socialism. To be clear, I haven’t been a member of the S.L.P. since the early ‘70s, and I no longer believe anything resembling a classless society can be effectuated in the foreseeable future. That said, the growing wealth disparity in this country has reached a point of absolute obscenity. So I’m all for reducing that disparity through whatever democratic means we can. Elon Musk and other tech bros are putting the era of Robber Barons to shame. It’s horrifying to see the safeguards of democracy steadily being torn down or emasculated by an out-of-control administration hellbent on total control. It’s more important than ever that creators in our field use their voices, individually and collectively, to fight back. 

No single comic book or graphic novel will topple oppressive forces overnight to be sure, but comics—that wonderful combination of words and pictures—can have powerful influence. They can educate. Comics can lampoon the corrupt and powerful (where is the modern Thomas Nast?) and inspire others in the ongoing struggle. Those in power control a large chunk of the media and can spend untold amounts on propaganda efforts, so it can seem hopeless to counter that loud and omnipresent machine. But comics are relatively cheap to produce and can get reread many times. I can see comics pamphleteering and cheap newsprint tabloids—contemporary versions of the underground newspapers of my day—making a comeback. Such efforts can seem futile, but my generation of long-haired protesters were the start of bringing down Richard Nixon and the Vietnam War. I expect comics creators and their community of readers to be a critical part of the growing movement to restore sanity to government and our critical institutions. Draw, baby, draw!

CBY: Oppression breeds innovation, and it is immensely inspiring to see how you've helped position comics as a medium of democratized discourse over your career. The Oddly Compelling trailer also happens to include laudatory statements around your ethics. As an independent business owner in Middle America, running your own business for decades, watching the evolution of the comics market, are there any guiding principles you can share with aspiring creators and publishers amongst our readership that might help them carve out a path towards viable livelihoods in this industry that doesn’t engage in the ethically bereft race to the bottom now underway across the American market?

DK: I began my career in the late ‘60s as a cartoonist who had a bad experience with a publisher, so when I began my own publishing enterprise, the Golden Rule was the cornerstone. My goal was to treat every artist and writer the way I would want to be treated. From the start I established a royalty system, as opposed to a flat page rate, with honest and regular accounting. I made sure creators received a fair share of any ancillary revenue, such as translations. I tried to be as generous as possible with comp copies and discounts and other professional courtesies. And, of course, original art was returned to the artists. These things may seem fundamental now, certainly in the independent press, but were not part of the comics industry “business model” at that time.  

Early on, before Will Eisner convinced me that contracts—mutually fair contracts—were essential, such understandings were just spelled out in correspondence or via simple handshakes. Now every publisher has contracts and they can vary a great deal. For new and emerging talent, or creators that can’t afford an intellectual property attorney, or who are not established enough to attract a literary agent, I can only urge that you carefully read and understand whatever document a prospective publisher asks you to sign. Don’t be intimidated by legal language: look up words you don’t understand. Many things in a contract draft are negotiable, especially advances and royalty percentages, and the term (length) of the deal. Most publishers expect pushback, so be plucky. Respect your own value.

Be especially wary of Work-for-Hire language whereby the publisher will own the copyright to what you provide. Naturally, if you’re asked to ink Spider-Man, Marvel will have to own all the rights, but if you are—in all likelihood—-dealing with a small or medium sized company, fight as hard as you can to control the ownership of your own creation. And if early on you have no leverage to extract a better deal, do your best work, and try again next time. With each creation you should be getting more accomplished at your craft and if the market supports the work, you are gaining leverage. Even when you can afford legal or agency help, it is very important, in my experience, to understand what you are signing.

CBY: Thank you for reiterating the importance of both being assertive and reading comprehension (without which, all these written interviews would be an entirely fruitless exercise). I also spoke a bit with Philippe about the distinctions between the European and US art market and response to comic work being offered at galleries. Are there other comics industry models around the world you admire or deem worthy of further examination and adoption by creators in the United States? In what ways do you envision the community of practice amongst comic creators might best weather the turbulence of broader market forces that now wreak havoc on the cost of production, shipping, and incidentals across the sector?

DK: I certainly think there have been advantages with the European model. Europeans for generations have grown up with Tintin, Asterix, and other popular comics, first serialized in new stand magazines and then collected in handsome hardcover albums that would be enjoyed by both grandparents and grandchildren. We had nothing comparable. The creators, particularly in France, also benefited from the way periodicals are distributed, much more efficiently than America, so more revenue was earned and shared with the artists and writers. European publishers for many years also treated their cartoonists with respect, and were not shy with bylines. It was much easier for a cartoonist in Europe, say a Hugo Pratt or Rene Goscinny, to be financially successful than their American counterparts in comic books. 

In America, for way too long, comic book publishers focused on selling the brand: my generation devoured Uncle $crooge and Little Lulu without knowing Carl Barks or John Stanley were the geniuses behind the work. That changed in America when comics fandom became organized in the ‘60s, conventions developed, and the previously unknown or obscure artists became at least as important as the characters and titles. Where America had a better model, going back well over a century, was newspaper strips, where the artists typically shared revenue 50/50 with syndicates and could become quite wealthy, like Charles Schulz or Al Capp. 

Addressing the turbulence of the contemporary scene in America is a tough one. As I talk with you today, Diamond Distribution has been purchased out of bankruptcy by a new owner who wanted the games and other elements and has little interest in distributing actual comic books, so who knows what will happen with the fragile Direct Market system? That said, I’m not keen on predicting doom. I remember once calling Will Eisner when I thought the sky was falling and he counseled, “Don’t worry, Denis. I’ve seen the comics industry die four times.” [laughter]

I think the signs of hope lie in the fact that graphic novels have become an accepted and often successful part of the larger publishing establishment, not that bookstore health and reading in general are at high points, but comics have a legitimate toehold and recognition  in the larger market. Another hopeful sign is the growing success of indie comic cons. I’ve attended San Diego Comic Con (or, as I call it, the other San Diego Zoo) for over fifty years and for the last few times I had virtually no fun, was bored and put off by the overwhelming corporate presence, and likely will never attend another. On the other hand, I now regularly attend and exhibit at indie events like SPX, MICE, and CXC where there is genuine excitement about comics, a true community of creators, and a focus on creativity, not branding and consumerism. These events, which seem to grow every year, give me hope. Finally, there is the internet, justifiably dreaded in many respects, but an opportunity to bypass the ineffective comics “distribution” system and deal directly with fans, and without deep discounts. Some are better suited to exploit this option than others, but it’s not going away. 

Finally, with regard to taste in comics, I have to give the nod emphatically to European collectors. One of my hats, representing artist estates, involves selling original art. For more than three decades I’ve offered blue chip art worldwide. A disproportionate amount of the best goes to European collectors, and some in Asia. American collectors by and large prefer superhero art. I’ve nothing against such art per se, but many collectors in the U.S., from my long observation, do not have the discriminating eye for good art. Perhaps it’s because Europeans grow up with fine restaurants, surrounded by magnificent architecture, countless museums, and with a greater awareness and pride of culture. I’m speaking generally of course, but too many collectors here just want a nice Hulk drawing or Superman drawing and the artist is of lesser importance and the quality of the artwork is something many of them clearly do not discern. I suspect I’ve offended some of your readers, but I’ve seen too much crappy superhero art bring silly prices compared to exceptional art without flying capes.

CBY: Denis, I hope at this point I at least have enough readers to offend some of them (over matters of taste, anyway). I don’t usually get to talk social and macroeconomic policy in these interviews, but let’s turn briefly towards microeconomics. You’ve had the opportunity to work with some of the most iconic and prolific comic creators in the history of the medium – in your expansive experience, which creators have you found to be the most adept at switching between a prolific mode of artistic productivity and their business-oriented concerns? Who has been most shrewd in handling their brand and estates, and what lessons have you learned from seeing the varied approaches by creators towards negotiating contracts, delivering work, and realizing the greatest potential benefits from their intellectual property?

DK: Nor do I typically get economic questions! In my experience Will Eisner was a perfect role model for entrepreneurial artists. Right out of high school, during the Great Depression, he dove into comic books when the format was in its infancy. He built a successful packager’s studio from scratch, with partner Jerry Iger, then in 1940 sold his share to tackle “The Spirit,” an unprecedented comic book inserted into Sunday newspapers. He had the savvy—in his early twenties!— to negotiate retaining ownership of the copyright and trademark. Will was not only one of the best and most innovative cartoonists ever, he exhibited business skills through his long career, a trait very rare among artists. 

Harvey Kurtzman is, perhaps, a surprising example. He is generally viewed as not having great business skills, certainly compared to Eisner, but he had his moments. MAD was Harvey’s brainchild for Bill Gaines’ EC line, first as a comic book. But when the anti-comics crusade of the early ‘50s was on the verge of shutting Gaines down, it was Harvey who convinced Bill and his mother (who controlled the purse strings) to turn MAD into a magazine to avoid the Comics Code Authority, to attract older readers, and to increase the profit margin. It proved a brilliant move, and for several ensuing decades MAD was a huge publishing success, thanks to Harvey’s push. Sadly, he didn’t personally benefit (long story) but he’s an example of a genius cartoonist/writer/editor who saved a sinking business and allowed his boss to become a multi-millionaire.  

Having guys like that as mentors certainly helped Kitchen Sink Press grow and succeed for thirty years, and that grounded me for later endeavors such as agenting and packaging, and being self-employed in general. With regard to negotiating contracts, having been both an artist and a publisher allows me to fully understand and sympathize with both sides of the equation. It isn’t always easy to make money in publishing, nor is a freelance artist’s life an easy one, but I’m generally able to weave the fine points of any agreement so that both sides have incentives to go forward on any given project. As Will Eisner told me early on, when I was negotiating an agreement with him, “If you’re not happy with the deal, I’m not happy.” 

CBY: Some timeless insight from some of the industry's greatest luminaries, which hopefully serves as a reminder that the industry shines brightest when not treated as a zero-sum game. Regarding the evolution of the publishing landscape, from your first printings in the late 1960’s through now, what other lessons would you like to share with our readers about the diffusion of technology, accessibility of desktop publishing tools, and the decentralization of capacity to create comics across the market? Based upon the trajectories you’ve witnessed over the past fifty years, where do you anticipate things heading over the next fifty? Is there any cautionary guidance you might have around safeguarding the rights of artists to both creation and remuneration concerning their work?

DK: I’ve always been happy to take advantage of changing technology. I don’t miss having to deal with cumbersome flats of film negatives. I’m glad I seldom need an X-acto knife anymore. The immediacy of email certainly beats the tens of thousands of letters I mailed over the years, with days or weeks between such communications.  . 

That said, it’s always tough to discuss the future of anything, comics included. Around the mid 1970s, I shot some 8mm sound footage of Harvey Kurtzman in his home. In it I asked him what he thought the future of comics was. I hoped—expected?— for him to say something profound and visionary. Harvey was such a force in the field, inspirational to my generation, and so astute in so many ways. 

But his sober answer, after a pause, was, “I see no future in comics.” 

At the time I posed that question to him, the comics industry was largely in the doldrums, he had been beaten down by failed publications, and had become dependent on the largess of Hugh Hefner. What could Harvey not have foreseen?  The graphic novel explosion was just around the corner. Comic conventions would flourish and be a media focus. A cartoonist Harvey mentored, Robert Crumb, would become one of the most celebrated artists of our era. Another cartoonist he mentored would win a Pulitzer prize for Maus. The internet and its impact on comics would have been pure science fiction. The Simpsons would become one of the longest running and most popular TV shows ever. Marvel Comics, a relatively small banana at the time I posed the question, would go on to dominate Hollywood for an era, something unthinkable for a guy who began his career in Stan Lee’s sweatshop. 

There are so many other ways comics had a future and would have cultural impacts impossible to predict. But for that moment, nearly fifty years ago, Harvey saw only bleakness. Now you ask me to guess how comics could evolve over the next fifty years? I could see darkness too, I could see artificial intelligence ruining comics and making their creators obsolete. But I prefer to think the limitless combination of words and pictures we love so much will adapt and grow and only become more exciting long after I’m gone. 

CBY: I'd like to think the capacity for human ingenuity is going to rise to meet that challenge. To close, we always provide creators with a platform to heap a bit of praise on whatever creative work they’ve enjoyed across the landscape lately. Amongst the comics, film, literature, music, art, and creations of others, what has been most inspiring to you lately?

DK:  I just watched A Complete Unknown and found it very moving. Discovering Bob Dylan as a college freshman in 1964 changed my outlook in ways I can never really measure. I’ve recently binged on the latest White Lotus, the new season of Black Mirror, and newest The Last of Us; all satisfying in their own way. But in the past week I’ve also re-watched Night of the Hunter, The African Queen, and Maltese Falcon with my youngest daughter Violet, interspersed with several Christopher Hitchens debates. So it’s been a good TV week or two.

On the book front I just picked up Dan Nadel’s Crumb and am eager to dive in. I’m halfway through Gary Giddis’s Warning Shadows, a fascinating book about movies. Charles Burns’s Kommix is not something to exactly “read,” but I’ve been staring at his so-weirdly alluring cover art off and on for weeks and cannot bring myself to put it in the library yet. I’ve also started Vivian’s Ghost by Hal Schreive at the urging of Violet, who happens to have published it. Finally, with regard to the wide world of comics, I’ve never been attracted to manga, but a friend I trust gave me a copy of Junji Ito’s Uzumaki and it’s next on my reading pile.  

CBY: Oh, Uzumaki is a wild ride! Denis, thank you for offering some great recommendations on top of a wealth of your advice - it’s a privilege to have you here with us today, and the artistic community is a stronger place for your enduring contributions to protection of creators from both censorship and exploitation. I know you’re on Instagram, and Tinto Press is present on Facebook and Instagram. With Oddly Compelling on YouTube, are there any other publication, portfolio, or social media links I’ve missed that you’d like our readers to check out?

DK: Call me old or grumpy (or smart) but I’ve deliberately avoided social media (other than Instagram) with no regrets, so you’ve covered the limited vein there. Instagram is where I post many of the chipboard drawings cited earlier, if any readers are curious.

This has been fun. You’ve asked original and challenging questions and I thank you for being prepared, Andrew. The element of preparedness for an interviewer can never be a given as I’ve learned to my amusement on the documentary’s publicity bus the past two or three months. 

CBY: I try to infuse as much Socratic method into these dialogues as possible in the process of talking about comics, and while the discourse is its own reward, recognition of the thought invested is always appreciated (especially when coming from someone who has been through this process so often). We're all looking forward to seeing how those interviews play out when Oddly Compelling is released!

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