Arrivals and Departures — October 2025

Cheers to another October. I’m writing this shortly after returning home from this year’s Cartoon Crossroads Columbus festival.

I made sure to get there early so I had time to take in all the grandeur that is the Billy Ireland Cartoon Museum and entered just as Carol Tyler was giving a guided tour of her exhibit. Not only was it a showcase of her entire body of work but a performance of warmth, intensity, and empathy. What I held onto the most was that Tyler told the packed house that in crafting a page, she strives to get to a place of complete emotional honesty and also wants to get the reader to meet her in that space as well. It’s a task, and a momentous mastery, that I don’t think many cartoonists outside Tyler are capable of committing to.

Afterwards I met the great Raul the Third and we walked the “Motion Lines” exhibit together, fawning over ink densities, as I peppered him with questions. I really wish I brought a recorder because I consider him, on any given day, perhaps the best cartoonist in the world right now. As the show floor was officially opening, I sat in on Raul’s presentation for kids and their families. He radiated positivity and had the crowd — made up of three generations — completely enthralled. As part of the class, he taught you how to draw yourself in his style. Cross my heart, I tried my best:

self-portrait at age 38 2025 by Ryan Casey

I can’t think of better ambassadors for the medium than Carol Tyler and Raul the Third. They are both models of integrity and creativity and made the trip to Columbus completely worthwhile.

This was my first comics show in many years where I didn’t have some sort of task (tabling, moderating, etc.) and I learned that I’m not great at wandering around anymore. I felt a little aimless, but was still able to pick up some comics that were new to me. Here are a few of them…

Christmas in D.C. by Stipan Tadic

The only thing I know about Croatia is that it’s the original home to my beloved Toni Kukoc. But thanks to Tadic I learned a little more about his country while he recounts spending three days exploring museums in mine. The author’s storytelling is natural and reminds me of Gabrielle Bell, but with a little bit more personability. Every panel in this 24-page true story is dense, but not in a peacocky way. It’s evident that Tadic puts a ton of effort and thought even into his transitional panels. Enough with the dry observations though. I have to let you know about this page where the author and his girlfriend spend their Christmas night in a McDonald’s. Kids are crying. “Wet Floor” signs are strewn about. It’s so loud with wretchedly festive din that cops have to shout the order numbers to the packed establishment. There, but for the grace of God, go I.

Getting a readership onboard for a comic that can be boiled down to the narrator walking around and visiting art exhibits, printed in black risograph ink, could be a tall order. It’s fortunate then, that Tadic has some compelling cartooning idiosyncrasies. The other main character in this tourist’s saga is the author’s significant other, Haewon, a ceramic artist. As the two traverse the capital and take in the sights, a thought bubble occasionally pops up over her head containing a bowl or mug or frog sculpture, taking in what she’s observing and relaying that to her chosen artistic endeavors. It’s an inventive way to render the act of inspiration in real time. The finest bit of cartooning here comes near the end in a transition from page 21 to 22. The former uses small collaged bits of a painting that you are forced to read like you are Tadic’s eyes, jumping all over the canvas. The next page has a big panel consisting entirely of faces in the crowded museum hall. Works of art, all of them, if you’re reading charitably. Kudos to Stipan Tadic and Christmas in D.C. for succeeding in the way I want nearly every autobiographical comic to: just a smart person talking shit, drawing their ass off, and proving that people: they’re just like you and me.

Upstate #4 by Stephen Pellnat

I was told that I didn’t need to read the previous issues. I was told that this issue was more or less self-contained and I didn’t have to worry about what happened before. I’m happy to report that Pellnat was right because his characters do enough worrying about the past for all of us. Have you ever looked at the famous cover to Love and Rockets #24 and wondered about the people in the third or fourth row of that concert? What is their life like, especially 20 years later? If so, Upstate is the comic for you. Ryan is the type of person where everything she touches turns to drink. On a day-off-from-work bender in Albany she bumps into Jeremy, someone she used to be in a malignant romance with when she was barely a teen and he was an adult hardcore singer. Many such cases. Pellnat spreads out six pages of unpalatable flashback sequences to show how abusive this relationship was for Ryan. As a reader, especially one new to this series, it might be overkill. Pellnat also uses different effects (icy, crunchy, smoky) to border his speech bubbles and comes back to upside-down panels when his characters are intoxicated. It goes from amusing to feeling like a crutch pretty quickly. “Less is more” is a cliche for a reason.

This comic itself isn’t great, but Pellnat shows signs of real greatness. Upstate doesn’t allow you to easily brush these people aside with a flick of the wrist and declare them losers. They are too cared about and cared for by the author. The comic comes to a true halt on the back cover where the current Ryan is embracing the Ryan from decades ago, hopefully bringing this story closer to having a theme of self-forgiveness than self-destruction. There’s nothing avant-garde here, just top-notch black-and-white cartooning, and reminds me of cartoonists I’ve covered in the past like Dave Ortega and William Ibanez. Ages ago they might have been published in floppy format and sat next to something like Unsupervised Existence or Laundryland on the shelves. I don’t know if there’s a growing audience for these kinds of narrative-first facial-acting dramedy comics, however I do think that the alt-comics ecosystem is better off with them in it. I was told that I didn’t need to read the previous issues. But I do now. And everything that comes next.

Oboy Comics #8 by Shaheen Beardsley

Beardsley is a robust whirlwind of a cartoonist. The design of characters and costumes, the tempo, the coloring — he’s excellent at coloring — all serve one simple goal: to further tell the tribulant tales of his paunchy townie superhero. We catch up with Oboy, in his homemade ill-fitting onesie, as he’s being heralded for putting an end to an international incident. He doesn’t remember a second of it because he was pretty sure he’d been roofied by some frat brothers, but an invitation to the League of Justice arrives at a bar he regulars. He’s introduced to the League (my favorite is Lychee Man, who’s made out of the fruit, but doesn’t remember why, how, or what happened to his family) and brought in as a member on a probationary period. Dragon Lord attacks the city wearing a purple vest and goatee and another issue of Oboy Comics is underway. Break out the champagne. Or the harder stuff.

You’d think a comic where the main character continually pukes and naps on park benches wouldn’t have much to offer other than a few gags, but you’d be wrong. “Big Two” artists should take notes from Beardsly on anatomy. He includes heroes with various abilities in his League and their bodies look like those of respective runners, swimmers, and power lifters. Beardsly works at a pace that is his own — even if I selfishly think he spends too much time having his characters sit around a table in the League of Justice building instead of engaging with the outside world. He follows up on loose threads and uses callbacks to add to his joke writing, not something many people spelunking in this genre can claim. I think it’s a fair question to ask if the world needs even more superhero comics right now, but Oboys are instantly rereadable and worth your time because Shaheen Beardsley draws like a banshee and makes it all seem effortlessly cool. Comics overall could use more artists like Beardsley, who seems confidently and completely sold on his own ideas, his talents, and himself. And I’m buying in too.

Three from CXC and I guess I have a knack for picking ’em. Now if I could just be as good a critic as this kid, then I’d be set. See you next month, I hope.

Questions, love letters, and submissions to this column can be directed to @rjcaseywrites on Instagram.

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