My father, Spiru, was a seafaring man, and I was always fascinated by his descriptions of places he had visited in the far reaches of the world in his travels. When I was eight years old, he gave me a small stack of comic books which he brought with him from overseas. One of these comic books was a compilation of superhero stories.
One story told of an adventurous foursome, a family who gain fantastic powers through their exposure to cosmic rays. The rebellious teenage member abandons his family and eventually meets a homeless person. The boy ignites his finger and shaves the man’s beard with a flame, and the man turns out to be an amnesiac Atlantean prince who, upon gaining his memory, blows an ancient horn that unleashes a 30-storey sea monster. Eventually, another member of the foursome, a grotesque, tragic figure known only as the Thing, enters the monster-like Jonah with a bomb strapped to his back and eliminates the threat to New York City.
A painting based on Marvel comics, which the author did in 1992.There was more. A man, troubled by a recurring nightmare, sought the aid of a mystic. The mystic’s spirit travelled inside the man’s nightmare and it is revealed that the patient is actually a criminal who almost destroys the mystic’s body as he is trapped in the nightmare realm.
There was more. A rich and charismatic weapons maker falls victim to his own inventions and has to transform his own destructive technology to create a metal breast plate and armour to keep his heart beating.
There was even more. A god-like being lives on the moon and observes all that transpires on earth. He is eternally bound with an oath of non-interference in man’s affairs, as previous interference by his race resulted in the destruction of civilisations.
There was more, and still more. The eight-year-old read and re-read these wondrous stories until the colours faded and the pages were in tatters. Fifty years later, the eight-year-old still marvels at these stories as they evolved over the decades and one constant in his life to this day has been that, as an eternal eight-year-old, he reads at least one Marvel comic book every day. (The number can go up to 20 on weekends and holidays).
True art is often produced unconsciously. Stan and his team never imagined the true value and significance of what they were generating
The creator of these stories, known as Stan Lee, passed away, aged 95, or eight years old depending how one looks at things. He was a dreamer, a family man, an entrepreneur, and a strong motivator to others who worked with him and created what is now widely known as the Marvel Universe. His imagination had no boundaries and he had an uncanny ability to connect with his readership, which initially consisted mostly of boys in their early teens but eventually expanded to include older people, college graduates, film producers and intellectuals across the world. His close collaborator, artist extraordinaire Jack Kirby, correctly predicted half a century ago that film-makers would be turning the pages of Marvel comics to select stories for upcoming movies, something which is happening today.
True art is often produced unconsciously. Stan and his team at the Bullpen never imagined the true value and significance of what they were generating. Since the 1960s, the Marvel universe has expanded, thanks to generations of creators, into a massive self-perpetuating story which no one, not even Stan Lee himself, has read in its entirety. It is unlike anything else in the history of art and literature, with events involving thousands of characters being intertwined in an immense tableau, ranging from Daredevil handling a couple of muggers in a New York alley to Galactus devouring the Skrull Throneworld planet hundreds of light years away.
It is a modern Iliad, which has drawn the admiration of people from all walks of life. As early as 1965, Frederico Fellini had described himself a fan of Marvel comics, and Marvel characters became mainstreamed in contemporary culture over the years. I keep revisiting the 1970 footage of Emerson Lake and Palmer’s exceptional Curse of Baba Yaga live performance with superimpositions of panels taken from Marvel comics making a perfect visual accompaniment to their progressive rock sound. Paul McCartney sang about Magneto and Titanium Man, Dr Strange graced a cover of a Pink Floyd album. Needless to say, Marvel references are common in many Quentin Tarantino movies.
Growing up with Marvel comics had a tremendous influence on my life. Who needs to get high on drugs when you have journeyed through the distortion area of the negative zone with the Fantastic Four, or have been transported across the multi-verse by the Watcher? I never smoked as the price of a packet of cigarettes over the years has always been approximately that of a Marvel comic.
The X-Men taught me to appreciate diversity among people, and Spiderman has always been a deeply moral character who chooses to do good even at personal sacrifice, and in spite of things hardly ever turning out the way he would have wanted them to. He is also portrayed as looking at the world from non-conventional angles, both physically and metaphorically. Of course, it is not all philosophy. Humour prevails throughout, and there is always the thrill of the action – who can resist watching a scuffle between the Thing and the Hulk, or between the Avengers and Ultron.
The exposure to artworks in Marvel comics stimulated in me a lifelong love of the arts. I started drawing and painting at an early age and have never stopped since. I look at the works of comic book illustrators such as Jack Kirby, John Buscema, Gene Colan and Steve Ditko among many others with the same reverence I have towards Picasso, Francis Bacon and Antoine Camilleri.
It is all in good part thanks to Stan lee’s influence and I shall be forever indebted to him, as are so many fans across the globe whose lives were enriched through his creations and stories. I can easily imagine him now, riding a silver surfboard into eternity. As he would say, Excelsior!