This week, American illustrator Yo Kuri and Canadian filmmaker and artist Troy Nixey will launch a Kickstarter campaign for Blood Magic Tales, an anthology horror comic. Collecting two self-contained stories, “Blood Magic Tales” and “Gods Die Slowly” promise to take readers to the furthest reaches of space as well as the unrevealed dimensions beneath the visible plane of reality.
The horror genre has proven time and again to be one of the most moldable forms for examining the complexities of the soul and its dark ambitions; Kuri and Nixey’s eclectic pairing of mystical covenants, gang streetbrawls, and bodily metamorphosis speaks to this great narrative potential, all while asserting the social value of probing mankind’s collective fears.
Hardly strangers to speculative genres—Nixey was handpicked by Guillermo del Toro to remake 1973 horror film Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark and earned a reputation for unsettling morality tales in books like Trout and The Black Sinister, while Kuri’s Inu showcased what the world of futuristic sports betting might look like in holographic gladiatorial fighting competitions—our conversation turned to the appeal of writing transgressive subject matter, arousing “primal passions” in readers, and the structural problems of the comic book industry preventing creators from producing their best work.
-Jean Marc Ah-Sen
JEAN MARC AH-SEN: How did your relationship begin? Can you speak to the moment that you realized that a creative partnership would be worth exploring?
YO KURI: I had a relationship with Troy’s comics work well before we met and became friends. I like artists with styles that are instantly recognizable as their own. Troy’s art reminds me of EC horror comics and Bernie Wrightson, but his style transcends these influences because of the expressionism in his cartooning—the way he distorts forms to fit the emotion of a scene.
I collect original comic art, and I became aware of Troy’s extraordinary commissions. My collector friends Keith Becker and Jason Kim have incredible examples. These pieces look like engravings with beautiful, detailed work akin to Wrightson Frankenstein plates.
Jason Kim also hosts “Comic Art Channel,” an original comic art show on YouTube. Troy and I met on this show in March of 2023. The three of us picked our favorite pieces from a recent Heritage original comic art auction and then discussed why we chose them. Troy and I immediately hit it off. He’s smart and knowledgeable about the history of comic art and artists. We’re about the same age so we’ve got similar pop culture references. We’re both football fans and devoted to our families. That YouTube show is where our friendship began, and I’m amazed by how much we accomplished together since then.
I commissioned Troy to draw a short story based on the lyrics of a Megadeth song called “Five Magics”. I wouldn’t call myself a metal fan, or even a Megadeth fan, but I like the album Rust in Peace, and I really like that song. Dave Mustaine wrote “Five Magics” when he holed up in his girlfriend’s apartment, reading sword and sorcery novels and doing lots of drugs. “Five Magics” is a fever dream about a mystical warrior who trains in five disciplines of magic to depose an evil overlord. In typical Megadeth fashion, power corrupts, and the new ruler is no better than the old one. Give it a listen—it starts slow and kicks ass at the end.
We had a blast working on “Five Magics”. Then I had an idea for a new story that ended up becoming Blood Magic Tales. I was super busy at my day job and knew I wouldn’t have time to draw it myself. Troy had an opening in his work calendar, so we decided to make the book together with colorist Michelle Madsen. They were incredible collaborators, and I’m so pleased with the result.
TROY NIXEY: As Yo mentioned, the project grew from our friendship and mutual interests. I got a taste of how Yo works during “Five Magics” so it was simply a matter of finding the right story for us to build something bigger. Blood Magic Tales grew over many conversations. When we felt good about the direction, we were off to the races. The trust for me with a first-time writer was immediately there because we knew each other and Yo was very open about me guiding things when and if it was needed.
“Blood Magic Tales” is a religious horror story set in part during the Wall Street crash of 1929, while “Gods Dies Slowly” involves sci-fi and body horror elements unfolding in an off-world environment. Were the pieces meant to be “in conversation” with each other since they were being created at roughly the same time?
YK: I was not involved with “Gods Die Slowly.” Isn’t that title amazing? Troy wrote and drew “Gods Die Slowly” by himself at the same time as he was drawing “Blood Magic Tales.” This book is completely alien, not of planet earth. Troy’s imagination and vision is on the other side of the universe. I like to call it the Nixeyverse. It’s a theme in his work—a terrifying cosmos beyond the border of common perception. “BMT” is also partially set in the Nixeyverse so I always thought there was either a subconscious communion, or deliberate experimentation that occurred between the two books. I’m guessing only Troy knows for sure.
TN: Hahaha! Well, I have been at this a good long while so there’s going to be similar themes that are important in my creative journey and will show up in all my work. I like to work on a couple of projects at the same time. “BMT” and “GDS” were excellent companion pieces. “GDS” is a surreal experimental book and “BMT” is more traditional storytelling. It was easy to oscillate between the two and keep the work fresh and inspiring.
Yo, you established a career in another field entirely, but made the important decision somewhat recently that you wanted to prioritize your drawing practice; and Troy, you’ve been in the industry for a long time, but explored filmmaking with Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark and Latchkey’s Lament before making a return to comics. What is it about the medium exactly that exerts this extraordinary pull on your lives?
YK: I’ve been obsessed with comics since I was a little kid in the 70s. In the summer, my mom would take me to work, and I’d get comics from the spinner rack at the local drug store. She was an editor and back then she used a typewriter. I still remember the smell of the ribbon and the sound of the keys. She must not have been a great typist because she generated giant stacks of scrap paper. I would spend the day reading comics, watching TV and drawing on the back of her discarded pages.
I worked in a comics shop in the 80s and that’s when my love of comics blossomed. It was a period of great creativity and innovation and there was a lot of optimism about advancing the art form. At the same time, I had a great art teacher in high school and then I continued taking life drawing and painting classes in college.
I thought I wanted to be a comic book artist in the 90s but there were two problems with that notion. First, there were practical considerations. I graduated college with a ton of debt and needed to help my family. Out of necessity, I chose a career with more financial certainty. Second, I didn’t have anything to say, with no life experience and nothing insightful to communicate. I would try to make comics, but they would always fizzle out. I lost touch with comics and art for many years.
My dear friend Daren passed away in 2009. At the time of his death, he was working on a screenplay about the life of Miyamoto Musashi. To honor his memory, I promised his brothers I would make a graphic novel based on his screenplay. That was completely delusional since I hadn’t touched a pencil in ages, and I had never completed a comic. These were rocky times in my personal life.
I was only able to surmount my difficulties by reengaging with my Buddhist practice. My life experience began to inform my creative process and intersected with the story I was telling about Musashi’s spiritual awakening. I wanted to explore the theme of nostalgia and faith, so I shifted the setting to a future version of Tokyo. The result is Inu (www.inucomics.com). I’m halfway done. The last 3 issues are scripted, issue 4 is thumbnailed. I would have made more progress, but Blood Magic Tales got in the way.
Today, I finally feel like I have something to say. Given budget constraints and a demanding career and family life, comics is the best medium for the kind of visual storytelling I want to do.
TN: Movies, animation and comics dominated my youth. As a kid, I knew I was always going to have a creative career but it was an abstract idea, nothing was set in stone. I just wanted to continue drawing as much as possible. As I grew into a teenager, directing movies felt like a pipedream so all my efforts were directed toward comics. I drew constantly; I graduated high school in 1990, a semester early, so I could try and jumpstart my career. My first published work came out in 1991 from Monster Comics (Fantagraphics). I wrote and drew a three issue mini-series called Prey. It was terrible but I was hooked.
I didn’t completely give up on the idea of directing movies. I moved to Vancouver and met folks who worked in the movie industry. That was all I needed to start planning a short film to see if that’s what I should be doing. Latchkey’s Lament was the result and it led to the opportunity of directing Don’t Be Afraid Of The Dark. It was a wonderful and miserable experience. Even with the misery, I wanted to continue directing movies. I dug in and did the hard yards but another directing opportunity never presented itself.
Financially, I was sunk. I turned back to comics and clawed my way back into a medium that I’ve loved since childhood. The comic industry welcomed me back and I’ve been working hard every day since to improve my craft. I feel incredibly fortunate to be telling stories professionally.
Troy, I noticed that there is some stylistic variation in your art between the two stories. Yo, your art is also quite versatile. To what extent do you think the narrative of a project dictates your approach to art duties? Are there times that you feel that the tone of a story informs your choices—that a gritty, hard-boiled quality merits a reciprocal artistic response for example, or do you base such decisions on other considerations?
Yo Kuri: For me, it’s always a consideration. Some of the variation you see in my commissions is because I am still finding my style and doing a lot of experimentation. I don’t have enough time logged at the drawing table to envision exactly how an illustration is going to turn out every time. I also think I would get bored if I drew the same way every time. Despite other possible explanations for my artistic variability, I consciously tailor the style for the subject matter. Individual projects have different intents and practical considerations, and that should intentionally and subconsciously influence your hand.
TN: 2024 is my thirty-third year professionally and it’s only been in the last two years that I’ve felt strongly that I know how to tell comic stories at a high level. With that confidence comes the different approaches. It’s very organic. I follow my instinct and run with it, with some pretty interesting results. I don’t try to create the best drawing in any given panel; I try to create the correct emotional visuals for each scene, if that makes sense. I want readers to be engaged by the scene and the panels should service that end. It’s why I hate 90s comics. So much terrible storytelling!
What attracted you to the idea of exploring blood covenants and rival occultist factions? What is it about these horror components that make for a compelling draw to audiences?
YK: I did not set out to make a book about cults or horror. At first, the story was about found family.
The nucleus of the story came from a dream about a friend’s apartment in New York City. In my dream, it was much bigger, with many connected rooms. My friend didn’t live there; it was occupied by a patriarch, a matriarch and a ne’er-do-well uncle. I was welcomed into the foyer and was recruited to be in a gang, along with some other kids, by this odd family.
It was a vivid dream. The floor of the apartment was made of well-worn planks with heavy grain, partially covered with Persian rugs and antique furniture. There was a grand dining room, with broad windows that looked out onto the street. The gang was hanging out in the uncle’s room on a beat-up couch playing Nintendo on a junky TV. That was it. There wasn’t a narrative, but the dream gave me a feeling of comfort and inclusion that could be the basis for a story.
My dad left home when I was 12. I would have done anything to make him stay. I still have a fear of abandonment. When I played sports, I tried to win the praise of my coaches, and I am sure my father’s absence was the reason. I think that’s why this dream resonated with me.
The main character Sid goes through hell being in this crazy adoptive family, but he stays and doesn’t run away. He’s desperate for approval and despite going through a terrible trial, he wants to remain in the family. Family is a cult. Your flesh and blood. There’s a combination of love and pain. You’re bonded forever. You love but you also hurt each other intentionally or unintentionally, and sometimes horrifically.
We create groups or cliques based on family, race, class, geography, politics and shared experience. When you form a group, you define a boundary that places everyone else outside the line. Groups tolerate strays but are threatened by other groups. It’s like a rival school—they are probably the same as you, but you hate their guts anyway. If two families want the same thing, they might go to war.
If it’s not apparent on the surface of the story, I hope the original theme of “Blood Magic Tales” is felt by the reader.
TN: Historical horror is always going to be an easy mark for me. Include an orphan child with a mysterious power and I’m definitely in! Trout, my most personal work, shares a lot of wonderful similarities to BMT. I’m sure Yo never connected the two and I didn’t put any Trout into “BMT,” but the vibe is there. I love it!
The book proposes an eldritch connection between Teddy Roosevelt, the 26th American president, and the Black arts. What is your interest in Roosevelt as a historical figure? Do you think that historiographic metafiction is one way to make historical narratives come alive in fresh and innovative ways?
YK: 26 is my favorite president. Compared to the bozos that occupy the seat these days, TR was a powerhouse. He attacked everything in life with tenacity and was accomplished in so many diverse fields. He was a rancher, NYC police commissioner, state assemblyman, a war hero, governor and an incredibly effective president. Despite a busy schedule, he still found time to read a book a day. He was an amazing person and that’s why I’m a Ted head. As an original art collector, I commission artists to draw TR in any genre they like. It’s fun. Everyone brings their A game for Teddy.
There is a lot to admire about TR, but he’s a complicated figure with a dark side as a war monger and imperialist. TR is super-human, larger than life. He’s one in a billion, a mix of good and evil, so naturally I assumed that he derived his power from a host of alien gods in an alternate dimension. There is also a reference in “Blood Magic Tales” to another historical figure who may have derived his power from the dread lords. Have all great historical figures been operatives for alien gods?
TN: As a Canadian, Teddy doesn’t mean much to me, but I appreciate Yo’s fascination with him. And wow! Yo came up with a wonderfully creative way to include him.
What was the allure of doing a completely dialogue-less story in “Gods Die Slowly”? Did you feel that there was more pressure to communicate intentionality and emotion through non-verbal gesture? Troy, I know you have spoken publicly about your fondness for silent era screen icons like Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd. Were there any films or comics in particular that you looked to for inspiration?
TN: I do love silent films! Charlie Chaplin is an all-time favorite. “GDS” didn’t really grow from my love of silent films but from a desire to create something that anyone could immediately read no matter what language the reader speaks. Secondly, when I write for myself, I’m very thorough. I write and rewrite a script until it’s airtight. Only then do I begin drawing. With “GDS,” I wanted to be more spontaneous and chip away at it between pages of “BMT.” I had an idea of where I wanted to take the protagonist but how he got there was going to be discovered as I went. I loved this approach and will definitely be doing it again.
In an essay featured in Blood Magic Tales, you talk about your desire to create a work that would inspire “primal passions” in readers and which would be as memorable as the titles that defined your love of the medium. What were some of these comics, and what features do you think they share in common?
YK: This is difficult because so many books come to mind. To answer this question, I’ll choose two.
Osamu Tezuka’s Buddha is incredible. It makes my heart soar, yet also makes me weep. The first volume is the best that comics has to offer. The draftsmanship of the backgrounds and the cartooning of the action sequences and character acting are exceptional.
Frank Miller’s Ronin is not his best work, but to me it’s the most inspiring. It’s a mash up of his favorite things. It’s Lone Wolf and Cub meets The Incal. This was his first shot at a book where he could do whatever he wanted. I obsessed over the first issue when it came out. In my opinion, this was the height of his mark making—Miller inking Miller. I may be wrong, but I always thought the story was an allegory about the suppression of creators’ rights in the comics industry.
The most fundamental similarity is that the books were made by writers/artists with complete creative control. In both books, I feel despair as the characters battle oppressive forces with vastly greater powers. Both creators are swinging big, taking on ambitious projects. You got the sense that they put everything they had into making the first issues great.
You’ve expressed that “the best creators leave a sliver of their soul in the characters, without fearing judgment of their naked thoughts. They give us the sense that we’re not alone, that someone in the world understands how we feel.” Do you think that artistic works that don’t accomplish this suffer in quality and execution? Are all artistic endeavors predicated on a kind of empathetic communion with its audience?
YK: I think art is communication, regardless of medium, whether it is a painting, sculpture, music, book or a movie. The goal is to invoke a reaction in the viewer or reader. It is a dialogue between you and the creator.
When I stand in front of a Rothko painting, I feel something. The composition is simple, the colors are basic, yet somehow, the image on the canvas provokes a profound emotion. Through his paintings, long after his death, Rothko sends his thoughts to millions of people who view his art. He’s immortal. Everyone perceives his art in their own way, which is a creative act on the part of the viewer. There is an active dialogue based on an abstract static image. When you have words and pictures presented in a sequence, the possibilities are limitless.
In my opinion, art that doesn’t engage the viewer on an emotional level is not as great as art that does. One could argue that a viewer can converse with the artist’s virtuosity, but works like that come across to me as being flashy but shallow. I prefer art that was made thoughtfully and makes me experience strong emotions, pleasant or not.
I’m not going to pretend that I’m a deep-thinking artist of consequence. I think comics are supposed to be fun. I want to tell entertaining genre stories with powerful themes that are exciting and well-paced. Hopefully, I successfully planted some of my life experience in Blood Magic Tales. I’d like to make the reader feel something other than boredom.
TN: I believe it is. If a reader can’t connect to at least one character in the story they’re reading, it won’t resonate. I feel it’s the same in every storytelling medium. Sid is that character in “BMT” and there’s a character in “GDS” who originally was created as an observer but whose role quickly grew as I moved along in the story. And by the end the character plays a pivotal role. I’m glad I made the correction because the ending is stronger for it.
You’ve remarked that comics should have sufficient space to explore an idea “while achieving a satisfying conclusion without bloat.” What are some of the other traps that comics fall into that might impede their ability to be as striking as they could be? What are the worst traits represented by modern comics?
YK: Oh man, where do I start? First let me say that I’m a new creator and I don’t have all the answers. I see plenty of flaws in Inu and Blood Magic Tales, but hopefully I’ll learn from my mistakes. There are structural problems in the industry that keep people from doing their best work. I can’t stand the idea that comics are an intellectual property farm for other mediums. Whether it is for emerging or established properties, the IP machine produces bland formulaic stories.
Time management also seems to be a problem because the scale of the readership in the United States is not what it used to be. Writers write four or five books a month to make a decent living. No one has that many good ideas and they surely can’t flesh them out properly. Most artists can only draw one book per month, so they struggle unless they can sell their original art. I’m trying to solve this problem by keeping my day job with the knowledge that I probably only have 4-5 hours on the weekend to work on comics. I like having a lot of time to develop ideas and think of better solutions. It’s a lot easier to do this as a writer than as a writer/artist. If I can produce 48 pages of my best work every year, whether I draw it or not, then I will be a happy guy.
TN: There’s good work and bad work in every creative industry. There’s an incredible amount of amazing comics being created but with that comes a lot of crap. I definitely agree with Yo in regards to IP farms. They tend to be “the crap.”
The horror genre has developed a reputation as a transgressive, allegorical genre that is well-suited to exploring societal ills or collective apprehension about certain subjects. Dracula is largely considered a tale exploring the fear of immigration, Frankenstein the hostility towards scientific development when it becomes unmoored from morality and approaches godlessness. What do you think is the basis for the authorial desire to probe taboo while unsettling an audience at the same instant?
YK: It’s a great question. I never thought about this before, but here’s my best response. We are tiny specks in the cosmos. The world is scary and confusing, and outcomes are unpredictable. We push down these fears with the comfort of rules and routines. Taboo is behavior outside of those rules and routines. Outlawed behavior challenges the status quo.
I sometimes think of what it was like to be in a society or an era that is ending. I planted this theme in Blood Magic Tales. What did the fall of the Roman Empire feel like to an everyday Roman? What does it feel like to lose your family? The comfort of your routines goes away. Is that why it is hard to switch careers or relationships? Maybe horror, on some level, is the fear of change.
TN: While I’m certainly aware of what’s going on in the world, I tend to look within and not out, when creating my stories. I explore my anxiety, periods of depression, the childhood sexual abuse I experienced (Trout is all about that), how I fit in as I age. Those are common emotions and are ripe for exploration. If I can put a creative spin on them, then job well done.
The post Family is a cult: Troy Nixey and Yo Kuri on their upcoming horror comic, Blood Magic Tales appeared first on The Comics Journal.
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