A Traipse into JP Ayres’ Comic World of Bile, Ire, and Sodomy
/
Gash comic cover by Jp ayres.
What is GASH? Roaming around the ink-clad walls of Commercial Drive’s Slice of Life Gallery, a place where art, vintage pinball machines and a collection of thrifted items converge, I ask myself this question.
“a grimy love letter to underground comix.”
Three days ago I was typing up the word “sodomy” on Google—a search that yielded some interesting results, probably not something you show your grandma—and today I’m watching JP Ayre’s very own underground realm of “Bile, Ire, and Sodomy” unfold before me in all its chaotic glory. A “genre-bending black and white comic” (Ayres), GASH blends queer sci-fi, fantasy and body horror in a world that bursts forth from the wreckage of a “techno-hedonist empire”. Cast away into this dystopian hellscape, the protagonist struggles to survive the mutated hordes that stand in his way, simultaneously battling a fascist patriarchal empire that plays a key role in the comic’s controversy. Ayres seems to delight in this fact, however, grateful for the audience of queer night-club attendees and transgender women largely responsible for propelling their work into the public sphere, especially as the transgender and queer community seem to grasp the themes of body horror and transformation in their work better than anyone.
comic strip by jp ayres.
The idea of marketing their work is something that visibly troubles Ayres, but despite their surging popularity it’s clear that they have not quite lost that sense of authenticity that first drew readers to GASH. In fact, when Ayres began pursuing their dream, that dream was journalism and prioritizing their education meant living in a shed that was cheap and close enough to their university to justify the lack of amenities inside (mainly, a working toilet). We don’t dive too deeply into the ins and outs of that, but if anything, their past living situation propels us into a conversation about the humble beginnings of their social media handle @sellout.garbage, the self-deprecating joke that started it all. Selling anything they could to make a living, and often questioning the worth of their art as a result. The shed, JP tells me, was followed by a flop house on Arbutus and King Edward that was the host of many a drunken party, and more importantly many a drunken guest to admire and critique their work before anyone else. While Ayres talks openly about suffering for their work, they encourage fellow artists to hang on to their day jobs and maintain an air of professionalism amidst the chaos of their creation process. They recall Frank Frazetta, an American artist that shared JP’s love of fantasy and science fiction and dazzled his superiors by always showing up in a button-down and khakis.
solo exhibit poster by jp ayres.
While I do see the chaos in Ayres’ artwork, the intricacies of their inky designs are not lost to me, something they stress is a key element of comic art and something the more minimalistic comics of today don’t seem to grasp. Through their art, JP strikes a perfect balance of novelty and nostalgia, their displays marked by delicate blue sketch lines framed in ornate ink with panels “measured with a t-square, then shattered as figures rip through their borders” (Ayres). The violence of the anguished encounters and skirmishes the protagonist toils through as the action unfolds is in perfect harmony with the measured strokes of the pen and emotional core of a lost soul flailing for connection. In this way, what began as a critique of the patriarchal structures that dominate other hero narratives, painting their male leads as selfless and often crass individuals that sexualize the women around them, became something bigger than Ayres could have ever imagined.
You know there’s always more to come where art is involved, and for Ayres the New Year is bound to bring some exciting surprises for their audience. While I’m not one to spoil a good surprise, I will say that a satisfying soundtrack is sure to spice up any ravishing tale of belligerent scraps and carnal pleasure. So stay tuned, readers.
If you aren’t the patient type, be sure to check out the solo exhibit at Slice of Life Gallery and catch a special lo-fi screening on a CRT TV while Ayres hosts “studio hours” in the space from Aug. 9-11.
Kirsten Danae (she/her) is a writer with a passion for film and the occasional excess in caffeine. She grew up in Mexico before moving to Vancouver to study English and Creative Writing at the University of British Columbia, and in her free time enjoys watching and reviewing movies so she can write one herself someday. Follow her on IG @keeks_diner
