home home about drawn and quarterly news artists shop shopping cart
Drawn and Quarterly Your Shopping Cart
Home About Artists Shop Events Press New Blog 211 Bernard Store Blog


News Briefs featuring Amanda Vähämäki

( back )


THE BUN FIELD reviewed by Booklist

Updated June 26, 2009


Issue: June 1, 2009

The Bun Field.
Vähämäki, Amanda (Author)
Apr 2009. 96 p. Drawn & Quarterly, paperback, $14.95. (9781897299388). 741.5.

Sketchy in plot and visuals, this small story at first appears headed toward the whimsical but takes the first of a series of odd turns when its small heroine moves from what appears to be peaceful sleep into a day at home in which a silent man with Down syndrome, a fetid refrigerator, and a talking bear are parts of
reality. Later, leaving the bear (and his car) behind, she stumbles and bloodies her face, deals with a
radically fanged dog, and then faces fields of plants and prepared foods sporting human-like faces. This somber picaresque keeps the reader at arm’s length. Its twists are unexpected but also unexplained, and Vähämäki’s soft, seemingly uninked pencil work creates expressive faces but smudges many other details.
Perhaps the girl is running away, as seems to be indicated, albeit ambiguously, in her final interaction with a toddler. Perhaps not. Best for readers who thrive on ambiguity and enjoy others’ darker imaginative
ideas.

— Francisca Goldsmith
 

Featured artist

Amanda Vähämäki

           Featured product

The Bun Field




  THE BUN FIELD reviewed by PopMatters

Updated June 22, 2009


The Bun Field
Writer: Amanda Vähämäki
Publisher: Drawn & Quarterly
April 2009, 80 pages, $12.95
By Sara Cole

The Bun Field marks Finnish comics artist Amanda Vähämäki’s first full-length release. She has contributed a number of shorter works to such publications as Drawn and Quarterly’s Showcase series, Glomp, and several other European anthologies. During a stint in art school in Italy, Vähämäki joined up with a comic art collective, Canicola, and it was through the collective that she began to release much of her work.

What one perhaps first experiences when they begin Amanda Vähämäki’s The Bun Field is bewilderment. A child experiences a nonsensical dream in which a Donald Duck-like character and its son(is that his son?) are devoured by a dinosaur and a nut is violently smashed in a vise. The child then awakes, but the world she has arisen to is no more comprehensible than the dream. However, Vähämäki makes this sense of confusion into a strength of the graphic novel rather than a shortcoming.

Besides the seemingly inscrutable story line of The Bun Field, what is really striking about the book is the freshness of the drawing style contained within. Decidedly smudgy and at turns both juvenile and painterly, The Bun Field is one of those rare graphic novels in which the drawing style fits the story so perfectly that words and pictures become almost indistinguishable. Messy yet still meaningful, well-rendered panels of a bear driving a little girl around in a hatch-back meshes seamlessly with dialogue like “I can’t drive, I don’t have a license” matched with the response “I can’t drive, I’m an animal.” Much of The Bun Field is punctuated with humorous moments like this, but the over-arching tone is actually somewhat more foreboding.

The looming sense that The Bun Field seems to exude stems from the fact that the text is captioned narration from the perspective of a child. Again Vähämäki presents an inherent strength as an apparent shortcoming. Rather than simply being opaque, stilted writing allows readers the experience of a child lost in a world they do not fully understand. Like a child, one wanders through the text inexplicably confronted with fleshy, hulking figures that one must entertain at breakfast one moment, and then is forced to accept a canine dental implant after a gruesome fall the next. The world of The Bun Field is one in which the reader is forced into the child-like state of both unbridled imagination, coupled with uncertainty, and a certain inability to quite fathom what is happening around oneself. In fact, The Bun Field is more a simulation of the lived experience of being a child rather than a description of childhood memories. The book veers away from the usual portrayals of childhood in which the text is disseminated from the position of sentimental reminiscing of an adult. Delivering the text from the perspective of a child avoids making it seem cloyingly sweet. This avoidance of the usual pitfalls of literature with children as protagonists is where The Bun Field truly marks out its creativity.

While perhaps the episodic nature and lack of a coherent narrative might bother some readers, the elliptical nature of the text is what gives it its distinct and original flavor. The Bun Field is more interested in exploring than arriving at any specific destination. One departs with a sense of mood rather than any sort of thesis at the close of the short text. While one gets the sneaking suspicion that Vähämäki might have found a clever way of not actually saying something, its hard not to forgive The Bun Field since its style and mood is maintained and executed so well.

Another artist who has often been accused of inscrutability and abstraction, David Lynch , once said “I keep hoping people will like abstractions, space to dream, consider things that don’t necessarily add up.” The Bun Field takes Lynch’s sentiment to the next level and is an education how abstractions are also wildly entertaining.



— 18 June 2009

click here to read more


Featured artist

Amanda Vähämäki

           Featured product

The Bun Field




THE BUN FIELD reviewed by The Comics Reporter

Updated May 25, 2009


May 20, 2009
CR Review: The Bun Field

Creator: Amanda Vahamaki
Publishing Information: Drawn and Quarterly, softcover, 96 pages, March 2009, $12.95
Ordering Numbers: 9781897299388 (ISBN13)

This is less a proper review than a reminder that the English-language version of Amanda Vahamaki's Campo Di Baba published by Drawn & Quarterly is out there right now. There's so much material published in a variety of forms these days that it's easy to miss out on an effort like this one. It's a lovely little book. I reviewed it in a previous format here; Bart Beaty took his shot here.

Vahamaki accomplishes several admirable things here above and beyond the atmosphere she creates with her smudged-pencil art and understated script. The pacing, dependent on a six-panel grid, is relentless. Some of the best moments in the story are simply silent transitions between places, shifts in perspective made odd and wonderful by the rhythms she achieves. There are several subtle moments of physical characterization on display that ground individual scenes and keep the dream-like qualities displayed from dragging the entire enterprise onto the more comfortable grounds of fantasy. Best of all, Vahamaki knows the big, general nightmares of being a kid and has them down cold: the intrusive adult, the scary machine, the impossible task, the guilt of someone being punished on your behalf. If it were a film, I'd watch it multiple times straight through, focusing on individual elements of the atmosphere the cartoonist creates, the mechanics by which it exposes the lead character's vulnerabilities and helplessness.
 
click here to read more


Featured artist

Amanda Vähämäki

           Featured product

The Bun Field




  THE BUN FIELD reviewed by The Comics Reporter

Updated May 21, 2009


May 20, 2009
CR Review: The Bun Field

Creator: Amanda Vahamaki
Publishing Information: Drawn and Quarterly, softcover, 96 pages, March 2009, $12.95
Ordering Numbers: 9781897299388 (ISBN13)

This is less a proper review than a reminder that the English-language version of Amanda Vahamaki's Campo Di Baba published by Drawn & Quarterly is out there right now. There's so much material published in a variety of forms these days that it's easy to miss out on an effort like this one. It's a lovely little book. I reviewed it in a previous format here; Bart Beaty took his shot here.

Vahamaki accomplishes several admirable things here above and beyond the atmosphere she creates with her smudged-pencil art and understated script. The pacing, dependent on a six-panel grid, is relentless. Some of the best moments in the story are simply silent transitions between places, shifts in perspective made odd and wonderful by the rhythms she achieves. There are several subtle moments of physical characterization on display that ground individual scenes and keep the dream-like qualities displayed from dragging the entire enterprise onto the more comfortable grounds of fantasy. Best of all, Vahamaki knows the big, general nightmares of being a kid and has them down cold: the intrusive adult, the scary machine, the impossible task, the guilt of someone being punished on your behalf. If it were a film, I'd watch it multiple times straight through, focusing on individual elements of the atmosphere the cartoonist creates, the mechanics by which it exposes the lead character's vulnerabilities and helplessness.
click here to read more


Featured artist

Amanda Vähämäki

           Featured product

The Bun Field




THE BUN FIELD reviewed by Newsarama

Updated April 30, 2009


The Bun Field
Written & Illustrated by Amanda Vähämäki
Published by Drawn & Quarterly
Reviewed by Michael C Lorah

Vähämäki’s darkly surreal comic is difficult to describe. With a dream-like semi-logic, The Bun Field manages to both incredibly creepy – the bun field is literal, a lawn where small cakes with faces sprout from the ground, only to be slaughtered by tractors tilling the soil – and oddly off-beat humorous. A young girl and a bear debate their own qualifications to drive a car, for example.

The soft and delicate pencil art by Vähämäki is very attractive. Smudged and fully rendered, each panel captures the creator’s unsettling vision of youth, a fragile humanity beset by loss of teeth, bloody noses and encounters with talking animals.

The Bun Field is one of those books that’s difficult to review. It’s extremely well done, unsettling, twisted, and quite disturbing, but it also has a very specific and focused audience. Fans of “horrors of childhood” stories and of dream comics will find it an intense experience, and hopefully readers who maybe aren’t as familiar with similar types of comics will check it out to see Vähämäki’s strong performance.
 
click here to read more


Featured artist

Amanda Vähämäki

           Featured product

The Bun Field




  THE BUN FIELD reviewed in The Daily Cross Hatch

Updated April 30, 2009


The Bun Field by Amanda Vahamaki

The Bun Field
By Amanda Vahamaki
Drawn & Quarterly

Sometimes the value of a piece isn’t contained in the tangible elements of the work so much as the aura it leaves behind. By that measure, The Bun Field is a powerful book. By most others it is a strange one, a mix of childhood fantasy and ethereal dreaminess held together by suitably naïve artwork—smudge pencil lines on dirty paper, partially erased early figure sketches lingering behind like ghostly specters.

There’s little in the way of story guidelines, here, save perhaps for the first page, the least subtle stroke in an otherwise largely free-form plot—if it can be called that—wherein a little girl’s dreams of Disney ducks meeting the business end of a brontosaurus quickly turn into something far more abstract and ominous.

It’s as though the book’s author, Amanda Vahamaki feels a certain sense of obligation to gently nudge her readers into the dream state that will soon take hold, only intensifying when the little girl at the book’s center awakes startled from one nightmare, only stumble into one even longer and more terrifying—a sense of terror that can only arise from the knowledge that there are some dreams from which we cannot wake.

The rest of the story unspools far more organically. Vahamaki lets her little girl loose in her fantasy world, encountering its absurdities almost immediately in the form of a shapeless blob of a houseguest. But though the little girl is immersed in the mounting onslaught of strangeness, she never really occupies the role of the outsider. If the world is a Wonderland of shorts, she’s never relegated to the role of Alice, and even when the universe turns violent and bloody, she never plays the victim.

Rather she is a passenger in Vahamaki’s dream landscape—or perhaps more precisely, a participant. As a child, the world still holds some surprises for her. Though she is seemingly unphased by the prospect of hitching a ride from a driving bear, the titular bun field does seemingly catch her by surprise. And, much like a dream, the world of The Bun Field has an ever-shifting sense of reality—where a talking bear driving a car in one moment represents a perfectly acceptable method of transportation, a moment later that same bear turns to his passenger and announces, “I can’t drive, I’m an animal.”

So too do things in this world transform as our little protagonist draws closer to them. It is in this fashion that we discover the bun field, two-thirds of the way into the course of this short book. It appears first as a simple field of vegetables, soon revealing row of sentient being cropping up from the soil. When, at the behest of a barmaid, the girl is forced to plow the field in a tractor, thereby killing the vegetables, Vahamaki abstract dreamy symbolism hits an apex, which crashes down in the breakdown of the little girl at its center.

What Vahamaki offers us at the end is something resembling a resolution, itself wrapped up in an acknowledgement that, for better or worse, in the dream world, nothing ever really ends. A final panel teases us—things seemingly changed for our protagonist, but ultimately we end up right where we started. After all, progress in a dream world is never much more than an illusion itself. As ethereal is it might be, however, what it does offer is something small to take along with us on our next journey into the waking world.

–Brian Heater
click here to read more


Featured artist

Amanda Vähämäki

           Featured product

The Bun Field




The Bun Field reviewed in Newsarama

Updated April 6, 2009




Monday, April 6


Review: The Bun Field

April 4th, 2009
Author J. Caleb Mozzocco


Amanda Vähämäki’s The Bun Field begins with a three-page sequence of a little girl dreaming in bed, and suddenly starting awake. From there, she wanders out of her bed and into the kitchen, where she finds two other children—a little girl with crutches, and a little boy cracking nuts with little faces—and a guest, a giant, deformed, bald and corpulent humanoid creature.

By the time a little bear growls “MGHRNMRGHH” into the intercom system, and the girl goes down to get in the bear’s car, it’s quite clear that the dream hasn’t quite ended, or that our protagonist has woken up into another one. Or at least she’s woken up into a story being told like a dream.

This is the debut graphic novel—or novella, really—by young Finnish talent Vähämäki, translated and republished for English audiences by Drawn and Quarterly. Already she shows enormous talent and even more enormous potential. Dreams are a notoriously dicey source of inspiration, and stories that operate on dream logic can come off as pretentious and off-putting, but Vähämäki certainly makes such a story seem effortless to tell.

Certainly the events, the plot of The Bun Field are dream-like. From the car ride with the bear, who can talk in the car, the girl goes to a bar, loses a tooth, has the tooth replaced with a dog’s tooth, talks with a cat, is asked to plow a field full of living buns even though she has no idea how to drive a tractor, and is delivered a message by a baby on a tricycle.

It’s not what transpires in dreams that necessarily gives them their dream-like qualities, however, but the way we process them, and the way they make us feel. And The Bun Field behaves just so. There’s a sense of portentousness about everything, a vague feeling of threat and danger behind the mundane and extraordinary events, although sometimes the situations are actually very funny (the entire bear scene cracked me up). Likewise, the point of view switches several time, and narrative even abandons the little girl to follow another character near the climax.


Vähämäki’s art furthers the feeling of a sketchy, ever-changing world. Each page is divided into a six-panel grid, the borders of the panels hand drawn without the use of straight edge. The artwork is all expertly rendered—the “camera” moves throughout the scenes as if in the hands of an expert cinematographer—but the art work is purposefully, pridefully unfinished looking. Not only are unnecessary lines and smudges left in, but throughout you can see where Vähämäki began drawing an image somewhere, erased it, and started over, the abandoned image still visible behind the one she followed through on.

Here, for example, note the erased images of the old woman hovering around her in the first and fourth panel, or the aura of erased cats surrounding the finished cat in the third panel:
It's not as creepy as it sounds

The Bun Field is a good night’s worth of vivid dreaming, compressed and captured on paper, and setting it down is not unlike waking up. After I read it, I felt refreshed and excited, but also a little sad and nostalgic about what I had just stopped experiencing.






 
click here to read more


Featured artist

Amanda Vähämäki

           Featured product

The Bun Field




The Bun Field reviewed by Bookforum

Updated March 17, 2009


The Bun Field
By Timothy Hodler

The Bun Field
by Amanda Vahamaki
$12.95 List Price
More information:
Amazon • IndieBound

The Bun Field begins with a typical comic-strip scenario: An adolescent girl lies in bed, dreaming of talking ducks and dinosaurs. This Slumberland scene displays little Winsor McCay–like polish, though; the Disneyesque ducks are rendered with childlike simplicity, and the dinosaur is as crudely penciled as a drawing taped to a kindergarten wall. The child smiles and winces in her sleep and then, at the sound of nuts being cracked, awakens to a daylight world scarcely less surreal than the one she just left behind. In her debut graphic novella, Finnish cartoonist Amanda Vähämäki proves to be a master at depicting the indeterminate menace and subtly modulating emotional atmosphere of dreams, recognizing that nocturnal visions can shift into nightmares in the time it takes a matronly woman to set down a tray of food and pull out a pair of dental pliers.

Strange encounter follows bizarre event in The Bun Field, without explanation or ostensible logic. Downstairs from the girl’s bedroom, an enormous, amorphous stranger sits in the kitchen, near a refrigerator stocked with worms and sludge. Outside, a friendly bear shows up to offer her a ride. As they drive around aimlessly, he suddenly surrenders the steering wheel. “I can’t drive!” shouts the girl. “If you won’t drive we’ll both die,” replies the bear. Later, while blood gushes down her face from a busted nose, the girl drinks an unidentifiable liquid from a beer bottle, under the gaze of a bar full of vaguely threatening adults.

There’s a rich tradition of comics that explore the imagery of the subconscious, from Little Nemo’s stilt-legged walking bed to Robert Crumb’s anthropomorphic forks and knives to Jim Woodring’s candy-colored monstrosities. In a way, every comic depicts a phantasmagoric dreamscape: Squint just right, and everyone from Spider-Man to Dilbert is revealed as a nightmarish figure. Vähämäki, however, is up to something a bit different. She draws from the more primal (if not necessarily more powerful) imagery of nature—the old, dark woods of fairy tale—rather than the four-color classic-cartoon grotesques that Crumb and Woodring tap into. Vähämäki’s talking animals are less Warner Bros. than Brothers Grimm. It may be a clue, and not a coincidence, that the Donald Duck look-alikes that introduce the story are so quickly gobbled up by the dinosaur.

Vähämäki was born in 1981 and, like many cartoonists of her generation, seems to have been influenced as much by the traditions of fine art as by those of comics. She eschews many comic-book conventions, leaving her smudgy, expressionistic pencils uninked, inscribing her characters’ thoughts directly into their heads instead of using thought balloons, and allowing carbon tracings of revised drawings, only half-erased, to haunt her panels. These doubled (sometimes tripled) images not only replicate the déjà vu effect so common in dreams but also suggest the kind of instant revision of un-satisfactory episodes that sleep permits.

Of course, the strengths of the dream story carry corresponding weaknesses. The logic behind a dream’s succession of events always lies just beyond the reach of the dreamer (or, in this case, the reader), and dream-inspired tales can suffer from too-literal symbolism or an abiding sense of inconsequentiality. It’s a mark of Vähämäki’s control that, with the exception of a brief, tear-filled scene late in the book, she manages largely to avoid the first trap. As to the second: At their most affecting, dreams hint at messages too abstract, profound, and disturbing to be grasped. It is unfashionable, post-Freud, to assign these feelings much significance, yet somehow most of us can’t resist doing so. In The Bun Field’s best moments, those most evocative of dread and wonder, Vähämäki replicates this ineffable power. Compared with this rare feat, whether the tale actually means anything at all seems beside the point.


Featured artist

Amanda Vähämäki

           Featured product

The Bun Field




SHOWCASE 5 reviewed by Sequart.org

Updated November 28, 2008


Enemy Territory: Drawn & Quarterly Showcase 5
Rob Clough
2 Nov 2008
SEQUART.ORG

In years past, the release of a new edition of the Drawn & Quarterly anthology was one of the biggest events of the year for art comics. What was once an actual quarterly publication became an annual and introduced the comics world to a wide range of talents, old and new. Appetites were whetted, for example, when one volume reprinted a number of Sunday pages from Gasoline Alley in vibrant full color. Since that time, D&Q has ceased publishing their larger annual anthologies in favor of smaller collections that spotlight new and emerging talent. There's a particular emphasis in translating the works of cartoonists not widely read in English. Past editions have included the likes of Kevin Huizenga, Dan Zettwoch, Gabrielle Bell, Sammy Harkham, Genevieve Castree, Matt Broersma, Jeffrey Brown, Nicholas Robel and others. Most of the volumes have featured three artists, each writing stories of around 30 pages. It's a great format, allowing for a story with some depth and weight but certainly functioning as a complete short story.

My experience in reading books published by D&Q is that it almost seems that there's a house style that artists adhere to in order to be published by Chris Oliveros. These books are always attractively designed and have a certain coolness of affect. Of course, the reality is that Oliveros is entirely a hands-off editor and publisher, giving his artists complete freedom. He publishes them because their work fits into his personal (and refined) aesthetic, not because he wants to bend someone else's artistic vision to his. That's why the range of artists published by D&Q is not quite as expansive as Fantagraphics, which is a bit more all over the place. Like FBI, D&Q has prospered in recent years, opening up a retail store, expanding their line of books and adding crucial staff members like Peggy Burns (publicist) and Tom Devlin (one of the top designers in comics and former publisher of Highwater Books).

The newest Showcase features American T.Edward Bak, Finn Amanda Vahamaki and Swede Anneli Furmark. All three stories have drastically different looks and storytelling approaches, yet all deal loosely with some similar themes. Most prominent is the sense of being in alien and hostile territory and how one chooses to engage one's surroundings. Furmark's story revolves around the discomfort felt by a man visiting his lover's family without revealing that they were gay and in fact a couple. It's a simple story about levels of deception, with self-deception depicted as perhaps the most pernicious. As the story proceeds, we learn that that closeted half of the couple, David, came from a religious background and was even engaged to a woman for a time (whom he happens to see in town). His lover, Jakob, yearns to be open and feels suffocated from living a lie in every aspect of his life, yet deceives himself into thinking that things will change. David deceives Peter in a rather cruel way at the end of the story in talking to his ex-fiance, who herself is in a marriage where all is not as it seems.

This story, "Inland", is visually striking due to Furmark's use of what looks like colored pencil to depict unusual lighting conditions, such as sunset, sunrise and light reflecting off melted snow. The colored scrawl is a perfect contrast to her black and white figures, who are drawn in a simple, loose line. The formal elements of this story are simple but enormously effective and really capture the ephemeral nature of the relationships in this story. The expressionistic use of color to capture changing, fleeting light nicely matches the sense of transience one feels regarding the relationships in this story.

If Furmark creates meaning out of small moments, T.Edward Bak works big. Expansive layouts and lots of negative space make sense for a story that's about a loss of love, not just for a couple but for his country as well. Bak plays with a number of different narrative layers here, as the story is told from the point of view of a woman abandoned by a man in a time of war. Bak's trademark is throwing a number of different visual styles at the reader, creating a dizzying, disorienting effect. He starts by working on an all-black sheet with a simple red line for his figures and lettering. This evokes a certain sense of mythology for this story, establishing a feeling of otherworldliness while grounding the story in a very human sense of betrayal. The female narrator recalls what happened to the lover that abandoned her, "fighting for liberty". Her lover, "the Partisan", falls prey to his enemy, "the American". "The American" is a mindless automaton bent only on consumption and destruction, a descendant of a different set of Americans who had lost their way.

When the story swings over to the Partisan, the pages are filled with white space and densely rendered figures. We follow his progress until he's frozen in place by "the American", trapped in his own memories and guilt. The irony of the story is that the Partisan abandoned her to "fight for liberty" and wound up being frozen, while his lover (knowing that she deserved better) likewise put herself in a dangerous position. There are any number of ways to look at this story: as the literal account of a relationship shattering, as a way of exploring the ways relationships splinter in an occupation, the metaphorical & emotional nature of occupations, and as a meditation on the corruption and corrupting influence of America. It's an achingly beautiful story on any level, further establishing Bak as an artist to watch.

In Vahamaki's story, the enemy territory here is one's own home, as a young teenaged boy and his female best friend find ways around his abusive father with the help of a time-altering TV remote. Living in a small island village means that the benefits they actually receive from time traveling are limited because the device doesn't make them travel in space, yet they have nothing much better to do. Unlike the couples in the first two stories, these teens have a powerful connection that transcends their environment. Their connection is the only thing that makes their environment tolerable, in fact. Taking a powerful item but not really being able to use it properly is a sort of cruel punishment for the boy, yet one he absorbs with a sense of humor given that he's not alone and misunderstood. Vahamaki's pages are densely packed and bursting with vibrant color. Her style is a bit more naturalistic than either Bak or Furmark, resembling Vanessa Davis' work, only using a more standard comics grid and adding a bit more density of detail to each panel. This story is more subdued than the first two entries, yet no less concerned about trying to navigate the unknown as well as actually finding rewards at the end of journeys.

What's interesting about all three artists is that their line is very different from the usual sort of thing D&Q prints. No one uses a flowing line like Seth and there's no obvious influence of Clear Line styles. At the same time, each artist's way of thinking through a story makes them perfect candidates for D&Q. The design of each page and composition of each panel has a powerful influence on how we experience the story. The way the anthology invites the reader to make connections between each story is deliberately vague but not opaque. Testing the measure of a relationship in an "enemy setting" immediately changes the emotional stakes the reader is prepared to experience. This book is a series of variations on a theme regarding common fears we experience as humans and the ways in which we respond, affecting those fears.
 
click here to read more


Featured artist

Amanda Vähämäki

           Featured product

Drawn & Quarterly Showcase: Book Five




  D+Q SHOWCASE 5, BUN FIELD and JAMILTI reviewed by Dans Ta Bulle

Updated November 26, 2008


dimanche 26 octobre 2008
Épisode 51 : Rutu Modan, Drawn and Quarterly's Showcase 5, Amanda Vahamaki et Violaine Leroy

Programme chargé pour cet épisode 51. Julie y parle de l'album collectif Showcase volume 5, périodique publié annuellement par Drawn and Quarterly. De là, elle se penche plus particulièrement sur une auteure finlandaise nommée Amanda Vahamaki, et d'un album en particulier : Campo di Baba.
Christophe parle du premier album de Violaine Leroy paru à la Pastèque : La rue des autres.
Et Julie reprend le micro pour terminer avec un recueil de courtes histoires de Rutu Modan : Jamilti and other stories.
click here to read more


Featured artists

Rutu Modan
Amanda Vähämäki

           Featured products

Drawn & Quarterly Showcase: Book Five
Jamilti and Other Stories





copyright ©2010 drawn & quarterly