Notes on Identity in Comics: Lautaro Fiszman's Homage to Alberto Breccia and Hector Oesterheld

"Maestros" is a short four page comic containing one of the most sophisticated meditations on the problem of identity in general and identity in comics in particular. Beneath the problem of identity lurks the question of representation, and both are by definition intimately linked. The way a figure is represented always contains an implicit conception of what it means to be an individual endowed with an 'I.' This conception reveals, often obliquely, the ideology of the person subscribing to it: on the one hand there is the monolithic and unequivocal certainty of the individual and on the other we have the deconstructivist multiplicity of the 'I.' The narrative that prefers one tendency over the other also evinces a particular aesthetics, and incidentally also a politics of form. To ask the question of identity is to simultaneously pose the problem of filiations. Filiation related to the field of creation implies a presupposed choice amongst origins. Sometimes, adopting a filiation can also refer to the refusal of a certain pattern. The homage to Breccia and Oesterheld, who are in a way the heroes of this story, takes the form of a stylistic appropriation. This choice allows Fiszman to assert, in a very strong and concrete way, his bias as to what representation can and must be within the panels of a comic. Such an appropriation immediately assumes a second-order status in the form of meta-language; the appropriation is here in a way the self-consciousness of genre. It is a form of self-designation since the subject of the sequence is nothing other than the medium of comics in itself as personified by Breccia, the graphic artist, and Oesterheld, the scriptwriter. "Maestros" is basically a narrative of disclosure and revelation: the character born out of the fusion of the figures of the scriptwriter and the drawer discloses to the soldier the very nature of his imaginary identity. As such, the story designates its place of origin, in other words its graphic material, and better still, it suggests that under its skin, under its appearance, lies the pure abstraction of which it is composed. In addition, it is necessary to point out that this revelation takes place in a very specific frame. Two characters face a line of soldiers. Both characters are at the point of merging and will, in this way, engender a single character resembling a pirate. Thus, while on the one extreme there is order and on the other there is disorder, subversion is born out of the movement of the phantasmagoria of writing itself. Still, it is necessary to nuance this remark by the observation that, in this case, the pair 'order versus disorder' could be reversed. In this narrative, all parameters will be subverted and put on display. Subversion will extend itself as far as the face and figure of the reader. First of all, we can clearly see Fiszman's preference for the frontal plane, as if, throughout the sequence of panels, everything revolves around questioning the one who is gazing; the reader is captured by the gaze. Or rather, we could say that Fiszman stages a "setting in abyss" (mettre en abîme) of the connection between the author and his readers. Through the procedure of appropriation, Fiszman projects himself in the double identity of Breccia and Oesterheld, his stylistic identity fusing with the stylistic identity of Breccia. Accordingly, the soldiers would then constitute the projection of the figure of the reader as multiple and indistinct. The first panel of page three shows that it is definitely a character in its own right. In effect, the soldier who has left the rank helps to read the whole as a face. The reduction and synthesis are therefore not only effectuated on the characters of Breccia and Oesterheld but also on the row of soldiers. As such, the confrontation is narrowed down to two terms: on the one hand, the pirate, and, on the other hand through the motif of the face displayed in the first panel of page three (the line of soldiers conceived as a monolithic and synthetic ensemble with respect to identity). This double reduction emphasizes the frontal aspect of the gaze and the exchange between the onlooker and what is being viewed. The reader-viewer is literally envisaged by the abrupt insistence of Fiszman's characters on constructing reverse angles, which the actual readers will come to occupy, thus blending the time of reading with the reader as he or she is projected by the narrative. Suddenly, the story of disclosure addresses the reader as much as the rank of soldiers. Fiszman speaks to the reader and it is the reader whom he invites to gauge what is hidden under the surface of the narrative. Let us examine the third panel of the final page for instance. While the soldier returns to take up his place in the rank, the pirate's face is shown, with a focus on the eyes, suggesting that the addressee of the narrative is not in the first place the soldier who has witnessed the disclosure, but whoever is reading the story. What has Fiszman taught us, his readers? Firstly, Fiszman confuses the supporters of a thesis of expression that modernity never tired of dismantling and that has always reemerged as a hydra, a thesis maintaining that the author expresses an inner world. The distinction "outside versus inside" which serves to define the relation of alterity, is disassembled. By projecting himself through the double identity of Breccia and Oesterheld, Fiszman proclaims his true identity and blurs it at the same time. His actual identity as author is in effect that of being scriptwriter and drawer at the same time. This identity is foremost a stylistic identity. Through a metonymic play, the character of Breccia who appears in the first panel of the first page, stands for the style of Breccia the drawer and consequently for his oeuvre. An oeuvre that in itself is somewhat ambidextrous as books were signed both by Breccia and by Oesterheld. Hence, an author's identity is, according to Fiszman, not contained in his physical or psychological individuality, but in his style. Identity is therefore first and foremost a matter of style. In the case of this story, identity is the result of a fusion of two other identities defined by a certain style. The second clich√© - correlative to the first - that is undone is the clich√© of originality. Fiszman the author is not an original being in the Romantic sense of the term since he defines himself stylistically as the result of two identities. Secondly, it is also the identity of the story itself that becomes problematic because we understand that what we see is only a superficial layer concealing something more fundamental. The author opposes the order of representation to that of meta-presentation. That the order of representation is symbolized by soldiers looking like US troops is a telling comment on the link with power and the ideology this short story denounces with such force and refinement. As for the order of meta-presentation, Fiszman expressly situates it on the side of revolt. It is then up to the reader to select his allegiance, to decide which order will receive his backing. The choice is between confronting this gaze and the ensuing meta-representative order, or fleeing from this gaze and rejoining the ranks following the example of the soldier. In short, it all revolves around leaving the ranks of a silent majority and facing up to the consequences of becoming an author, an author of comics for instance. This is Lautaro Fiszman's choice. The interpellation of the reader is therefore far from a mere fantastic effect. On the contrary, it constitutes a reflection centering on the transfer of the position of a reader to that of author. For Fiszman, the transformation of society can only come into being through this metamorphosis. It is perhaps but a modest proposal, but it is certainly not a negligible one.