For just about everyone in the 22 to 28 age range, The Batman Animated Series was our definition of ‘the who’ and ‘the what’ of the ephemeral Batman. We were too young for the campy POW! ZAP! Adam West Batman, and the comic book Neal Adams and George Perez Batmen were going out of style, so we had the cartoons.

(Please come to DVD soon, Adam West!)

The DC Animated Universe has consistently released cartoons and DVD movies since 1994, and almost all of them have been well received and enjoyed by fans who otherwise would be comic book purists - so I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of reaction the newest Batman DVD, Batman : Gotham Knight, would find with these same fans. I complain that vapid, product-placement anime destroyed Saturday morning cartoons, and then went on to devour afterschool cartoons also, but when anime-styled animation is good, it’s amazing. FLCL, Evangelion, Paranoia Agent - all good things.

The new Batman DVD isn’t one story, but six related stories, each one written and directed by different noteworthy directors and authors. Because of the six approaches to Batman, he takes on six different appearances during the film, but since Batman is invariably, distinctly Batman, it’s not distracting at all - except for maybe the out-of-costume Bruce Wayne moments, when he vacillates between dreamy, androgynous yaoi character to older, grizzly uber-masculine warrior.

My personal favorite tale of the six is the very first one, in which four skate kids recount their encounters with Batman, remembering him as the otherworldly, mythological forms that he implies. The Batman that I enjoy most in any media is the one that the general citizens of Gotham know of in this mythological sense; he may or may not exist, they might have seen him once, they’ve heard tales of him, but there’s nothing concrete to prove that he exists. To these kids, Batman is everything from a shapeshifting, shadowy ghost, to a giant bat creature, to an invincible robot. The truth is actually very moving, and the animation is simple, fluid and visceral.

The other five Batman tales are action-packed, from fast-paced battles with Scarecrow, Killer Croc and Deadshot, to the occasional contemplative exploration of how Batman became what he is, how he’s helping Gotham, and why he’s loved and hated. The whole series of short films brings us back to the dark, half-frozen-in-time Gotham that we love from the original Animated Series, and the original voice of Batman, Kevin Conroy, even voices Batman in all six shorts. Some of the stories seem open ended and unsatisfying until you see how they all tie together, and all of them are tremendously beautiful. So, when I say ‘anime’, I’m not talking Pokemon or Monster Rancher or any other show that advocates cute ‘n’ cuddly cockfighting. Every frame and hint (or absence) of color paints a breathtaking picture of Gotham as it was meant to be seen - an extension of Batman’s being, which he fights tirelessly to cleanse.

After watching it, it’s really clear how much energy, creativity, and faithfulness to Batman was involved in the production - and anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m kinda picky about my Batman. Parents should note that this is a PG-13 DVD - mostly because of an animated decapitation, a little bit of blood, and gun violence. If there was any significant profanity, it didn’t stand out, because it was completely appropriate to the situation.

DVD bonuses for this basic edition are limited to a commentary track, and non-animated ’sneak peek’ at WB’s upcoming Wonder Woman animated movie. There’s a 2-disc edition to look for also, which includes a second disc replete with neat extras - documentaries, Batman episodes and more.

It’s a stellar production, and my favorite of all of the post-Justice League Unlimited Animated Universe. Go out, get it. It’s good to see that cartoons can still be taken seriously.

And collectors! DC Direct releasing a Batman : Black and White statue based on this animation on July 9th, so go out and get that also!

It’s been about a decade since I’ve played with any RC toys, because frankly, remote control things sucked when I was a kid.

Like any young male, I had a remote controlled racecar or two, but while I was growing up, all RC cars suffered from Severe Battery Uselessness, or ‘SBU’, which is an acronym that I just made up. There was no cure. You could run an RC car for about 3 minutes on 37 D batteries or a clunky rechargeable battery, and out of nowhere, it would be stricken with immobility. The reasons for this were split even between total battery death and being incapacitated by a small stick in the driveway. Battery replacement was expensive, and battery recharging was a multi-hour process. So, I completely lost interest and retreated to the instant gratification of the Nintendo.

In my absence, RC technology has worked very hard to impress me, and it’s delivered the results in the form of Thinkway’s U-Command Wall-E RC robot.

Even though the eponymous Pixar film hasn’t been released, there are about a billion Wall-E toys out there - small action figures, stuffed dolls, dioramas, and a good handful of electronic light ‘n’ sound things. For those of us who can’t invest in the $190 Ultimate Wall-E Programmable Robot (which has robot geeks all a-buzz for all kinds of reasons), there’s the U-Command Wall-E, which retails for about $40-$50.

One of the challenges that’s always thwarted robot designers is the ability to create a ‘personality’ in their robotic creations. It’s now pretty evident that years of personality design could have been bridged by simply bringing an animator on board in the design process, since Wall-E (both the animated character and the RC toy) are replete with personality. It’s a psychologically interesting thing that despite being a box with expressive eyes, that’s all we need from Wall-E to get a good read on his personality, even without seeing the movie.

This is where the RC toy exceeds. It’s not a toy designed for speed, but the slow and steady working treads that the RC uses to move are a solid mode of transport. RCs with treads are a whole new world to me. Wall-E runs on 4 AA batteries, and the remote control runs on 3 more AA batteries. After a good 30 minutes of play, the batteries are still going strong.

Wall-E has 10 function buttons and 2 program buttons on an easy to hold infrared remote. The ‘forward and backward’ stick will indeed move Wall-E Forward, but pressing the stick back will execute a left turn, as Wall-E cannot reverse direction (and can’t turn right). These are basic things - but the neatness comes with the buttons on the right side of the controller.

The ‘music’ button will provoke Wall-E to play 4 or 5 different songs and dance differently to each one. The ‘eyes’ button will create all of the neat little movements and quirks that bring the robot to life, and the fish-shaped ‘special turn’ button will start a special chain of more personality-rich movements. The ‘box’ button creates sound effects.

The ‘sun’ button is an odd addition. Every so often, Wall-E will stop responding to commands, and for some bizarre design / personality reason, you need to press the ‘sun’ button to reactivate him. It doesn’t really interfere with play, but if you haven’t read the instruction manual and leapt right into play, this feature might be a little confusing. We finally have RC toys that can communicate consistently with their remotes and we add a feature to emulate noncommunication. Curious indeed.

The ‘program’ buttons allow you to hit any of these 10 buttons in any sequence and have Wall-E perform the strong of actions that you’ve determined, sending him into true automatic, robot mode.

If there’s a weakness in this giant mix of personality and charm, it’s that Wall-E falls backwards a lot. While the instructions suggest to run Wall-E only on flat, un-carpeted ground and to extend his arms fully forward in order to maintain balance, his movements have a kick to them (which is far better than being sluggish) that will toss him backwards. This requires uprighting Wall-E by hand, and I can’t help but wish for an extending panel or rod that would pop him back upright when this happens. Most balance issues can be resolved by keeping Wall-E’s movements steady and consistent instead of starting and stopping him a bunch.

Even as an action figure, Wall-E is a great display piece - a perfect addition to my robot and Pixar collections. While this version does not have an opening chest panel, it WILL however freak the heck out of your dog. Check out the video after the jump to see Wall-E in action. I like it a bunch, and it may have just reawoken my interest in the ever-improving world of RC.

I’ve joked before that I am collecting my hometown, a brick at a time. It’s not particularly serious, but I’ve got a couple loose bricks that came from demolishing jobs in downtown Fargo. My desire for the bricks comes from my admiration and memories of the buildings that the masonry came from. The AOUW Grand Lodge was where I worked for several years, and the Idelkope Building was where I bought my comics from a guy that looked kinda like Santa Claus. Everyone’s got their reasons, and I’ve got mine. It’s not like I’d ever be able to get an entire building, even in a full lifetime of brick-borrowing.

Keith Johnson has a personal reason to collect, too. In 1980, Keith’s son Lonnie passed away, and as a living tribute to his son Mr. Johnson began collecting and restoring his town.

Today, June 22nd 2008, Ayr, North Dakota celebrates the 125th anniversary of its establishment, shortly before statehood and shortly after the railroad arrived. At 2pm, a parade will crawl past Johnson’s collection. Adjoining the main street of town, a small dirt road passes between a number of small but nicely restored buildings. These are the objects of Keith Johnson’s collection.

The collection records more than just Lonnie’s life — Keith Johnson’s buildings are the core of his community’s history. The town’s original one-room schoolhouse is restored, including desks and a (mildly frightening) mannequin schoolteacher; outhouses are out back, but are sadly no longer available for public use. Those arriving to Ayr via rail would have disembarked at the Great Northern Depot, now no longer anywhere near the rail-line but still kept company by a Burlington Northern caboose. The Ayr Store Company was a place for provisions, but it is the ice cream shop and the barber that really made Ayr a modern ‘city’ hidden in central North Dakota (although I’m not sure these buildings are original to Ayr at all). The collection includes the original fire bell — a huge iron triangle, suitable for calling the cowpokes in for dinner, but far more purposeful to a remote rural community as a call for the fire volunteers. An Arthur (ND) firetruck sits nearby, not quite ready to leap into service if there were a fire. Our favorite was the gas station — a beautifully repaired and well-decorated canopy service station outfitted as a Mobil stop. You can see more pictures of Johnson’s buildings here.

The buildings are closed and locked (an appointment with Johnson can be arranged for a more detailed tour), but the windows give a good view of Johnson’s restoration. Each building is furnished inside and out with appropriate originals and replicas of period accountrements, from leaded shades on lamps to original signs and advertisements on the walls. While I wouldn’t call any of the vignettes a museum-quality display, that is hardly the purpose. Keith Johnson was one of the lucky few people with the resources and room to actually have a collection of buildings. There are real, functional small towns in North Dakota with fewer habitable buildings than Johnson’s collection contains, and the collection garnered a nomination from the North Dakota State Historical Society in 2007 for his work. Keith Johnson’s dedication and love for these old buildings makes his collection one of the funnest I’ve met, and his willingness to share it with visitors by eschewing fences and gates is a boon to people interested in the history of these rural communities.

Last weekend, I bravely made my way down to NYC’s trendy SoHo area to visit the annual Affordable Art Fair, being held in the Metropolitan Pavilion. I attended with the hope that I’d come away with some inspiration, or maybe some ‘affordable’ art. At the very least, I’d be able to shoot a watergun into a clown’s mouth, inflate a balloon, and win an flammable Spongebob doll, because really, how can you use the word ‘Fair’ without including that clown balloon pop game? It would be a travesty.

Being entrenched in the art world as a creator of moderate success, my perspective on art sales probably isn’t the purest, objective thing out there. I’m embittered by the sheer mess of confusion, luck, cronyism and coincidence that swirls at the core of the art world, giving me no clues about what to expect, what to produce, and where to show it off. As a result, many of my thoughts were dominated by ‘they’re charging HOW much for that junk?’, but the fact remains : as obvious, unaesthetic or pretentious as an artwork may be, THEY did it and I didn’t. I accept my defeat… but I retain my undying soul. I’m looking at YOU, poorly Photoshopped ‘art’ print of the Mad Tea Party. There’s no forgiving you. If there’s an art Hell, I damn thee to it.

Handsome, clean booths with moveable partitions and walls were erected by various galleries - every wall full of prints, paintings and photographs of every size and style - mostly traditional, framed, square stuff - with the occasional strange sculpture peppering the fair. There were a few paper works that seemed to be painted onto the walls themselves, or tattered to a point of absurd delicacy, leaving me wondering exactly HOW one would display these things in their home.

The purpose of the fair was to acquire - there was never any doubt about that. No one was there to show off things that they liked - they wanted to sell things. One can’t get around the word ‘Affordable’ without evoking the idea of collecting and purchasing - an act which (some would argue) cheapens the value of art itself, but remains an essential thing if the lowly artists want to survive. Let me just state early on that the word ‘affordable’ has never had a wider definition than at The Fair, with the median price for an artwork resting somewhere around $3000. Interestingly, that price didn’t apply to a single medium or size - original oil paintings of photorealistic pool balls, awkward collages and drawings on wood, photographic prints of underwear clinging to youthful female behinds, lithographic prints of squiggly lines - all were fair game for the multi-thousand dollar price tag.

Having heard of precisely none of these artists, one can only assume that even an ‘accessible’ art fair such as this involves a lot of insular self-referencing, and since ‘aesthetic quality’ is one of the most variable properties a thing can have, it would be impossible to price such works based on ‘how pretty they are’. Prices, I’d like to conjecture (and I say this as a painter), are usually based on how much money the artist has conned out of a previous client, thereby setting a standard price point for all subsequent similar artworks. Other points of relevance include previous gallery showings, other noted art collectors who might have this person’s work in their private collections, if this artist has been mentioned in an art journal of note, the astrological year, the color of socks you happen to be wearing, and how many leprechauns live in said artist’s yard.

To describe the incomprehensible pricing structure, one object of particular note was a series of simple, crocheted food items set into shadow boxes and under glass. These sold in the multi-thousand dollar range. The very next day, I saw a series of similarly themed and constructed items at the Renegade Craft Fair in Brooklyn, selling for about $20 each. I remain unable to identify the real disconnect.

One thing that does NOT seem to influence the price of an artwork is ‘effort’. The artist’s time-consuming layering of dozens of media and meticulous attention to their craft would easily cost the same as a bizarre pencil scrawl on an old wooden block, and there were many examples of this. Regardless, beauty is still in the eye of the beholder. I liked some of those wooden scrawls, darnit - but I also have a Home Depot and a pencil. See, that’s me being bitter.

Other reviews of the AAF have been far more critical than I could be, calling the work mediocre and the dealers ignorant. I’d have to disagree with those assessments. Let’s make an analogy.

Let’s say ‘art’ is a washing machine. When you go to Sears, the salesman (‘art dealer’) is going to sell you a washing machine, and he’s going to sell it based on the formal and superficial qualities of it - what it looks like, what it does, its efficiency, and maybe a little bit of its history. Still, he won’t begin to have a clue about what goes on inside the machine (‘art’) - which wires go where, how much power each component needs to run, which gear turns which belt. That’s the job of the mechanic (‘artist’), who knows the heart of the machine itself. The salesman does their job just fine, and their inherent distance from the truth behind the product is something that can never be completely bridged, and that’s something that us as artists, and collectors as collectors, need to understand. It’s an inefficient, frustrating system, but it works for some. Everything, even things as potentially pure as love and art, is a business.

I didn’t buy anything, but it wasn’t for lack of falling in love with some of the works there - a life-sized sculpture of a dog made entirely of toys, a series of astute oil portraits of twenty-something slackers on boards (by Ian Strawn), a wall of mini-robots (and larger oil paintings of other robot toys), a bizarre Superman painting by Steven Skollar, Amy Hill’s businessmonster portraits. There was genuinely something for everyone, no matter what your art preference might be - abstraction, figural, surreal, pop, landscape - The Fair brought together a staggering variety of works, which is a rarely seen thing. I came away with at least $17 worth of inspiration (as well as frustration and confusion) - so the $17 price of admission just about balanced itself out. Check out our community for a bunch of photos from the event!

I knew nothing of Gus Fink before I met him during 2008’s Toy Fair, but anytime I meet an artist as prolific as ‘Gus’ (nee Josh Fields), I can’t help but be inspired. Visions of quitting my job and replacing it with painting and drawing for weeks on end fill my head, and then I get in the car and go to work and another delicate layer peels off of my soul because student loans don’t pay for themselves.

What I encountered at in Gus Fink’s Toy Fair booth was row after row of small, bobble-headed figurines - bright, colorful, and occasionally creepy. While I’ve never been a big fan of the ‘cute ‘n’ creepy’ illustrative art movement that was popularized by Tim Burton, Jhonen Vasquez and Roman Dirge (and which has subsequently devoured the back pages of nearly every issue of Juxtapoz), I liked Gus Fink’s stuff. There was so much of it, and so much energy behind it, you could almost feel the freneticism, if ‘freneticism’ is in fact a word. If not, I’m sure that Gus Fink has freneticized it into being.

After the president of collectibles company Rocket USA saw Fink’s work, the rest was history. Rocket USA took Gus’ artwork and sculptures and transformed them into an army of ‘Boogily Heads’ - a wide array of small bobble-headed characters from all manner of the strange. Despite being mass-produced by Rocket USA, the figures retain a very handmade, DIY feel. In fact, I’d ignorantly assumed that Gus was creating, painting and casting all of these little guys himself when I’d met him at ToyFair. I must have looked quite the fool, but such is the illusion of the Boogily Heads - that even an experienced and self-appointed toy expert such as myself was taken in by the ruse. Fink is no stranger to clever ruses, though, given the various pseudonyms that he creates under.

Three series of Boogily Heads have been released thus far, with six figures per series, and a good deal of exclusive and limited figures in addition to these, including paint variants and limited ‘gold’ and ‘platinum’ painted figures offered as retailer incentives. Each figure is packaged in great little window boxes, replete with Fink’s artwork, and just to keep that trademark air of Fink mystery, each figure is packed in with a random mini-comic, backed with a small poster. The comic you get won’t necessarily match up with the figure you’ve bought, and you might even find a super-rare comic in there somewhere, detailing a character that hasn’t been made - yet. Check out our community for a full gallery of these little guys.

The aforementioned ‘Gold’ editions were produced in quantities of 500 each, and are repainted versions of Series 1’s Oinks, Series 2’s Paperbag, and Series 3’s Zuggs. Platinum versions of these three also exist in quantities of 250 each.

It should be no surprise that I really, really dig the robot Scantron from Series 3, not only for the rare combination of intentionally awkward organic forms comprising the robot, but because he’s painted in a radiant silver. We’ve entered art toy territory, and we’re not settling for dull, grey silver on these toys.

‘Creepiest’ goes to Series 1’s Milq, a squinty and scratchy devil-bull figure with a split skull. Perhaps it’s my affection for Hellboy and Mephisto and the surreal nature of demon imagery in general, but the doughy innocence of Milq has a real appeal. If I had to choose one figure for a ‘third favorite’ position, it would be Series 2’s Paperbag, which is exactly what it sounds like. It has a certain Rob Schrab feel to it, if only because Schrab uses brown paper and cardboard in many of his sculptural creations and figures. Maybe the real strength of this series is in quantity, displayed together, assembled in some unholy cute-union, living together in whatever passes for ‘harmony’ in their scratchy, spindly little universe.

It’s easy to write them off as ‘another cute and creepy thing’, but the variety of characters, forms and ideas together presents something a bit deeper than that. Take a look at Gus Fink’s collected stuff over at his site and draw your own conclusions about ‘depth’, but the guy knows what to do to sell art, and he’s livin’ the dream. My envy of this power is not small, and these Boogily Heads are pretty neat stuff.

Scantron now surveys my web-browsing, and Milq looks disdainfully down upon my paintings. Being included among the general displays in this mess is a position of honor indeed.