: Can you speak to Congressman Lewis’s goals in having his life depicted in graphic novel form?
NP: Congressman Lewis and Andrew are both a little more focused on getting this information out to a new generation of people—I’m also invested in that, of course, but because all three of us are on the same page politically and socially, I’m afforded the opportunity to focus more on the formal and creative aspects of telling that story, using a narrative language I speak well. John definitely became much more aware of the potential within comics as our collaboration progressed—he had to trust Andrew and [me] to navigate that field.
WA: What was so appealing about working on a project aimed at a younger audience?
NP: It’s not aimed at a younger audience—this is the problem with books marked as being 13+, or labeled as YA, or otherwise at a teen audience. Andrew (as well as Leigh, publicist for Top Shelf) were more aware than I was of the potential in schools and libraries, and that a large percentage of books were going to be read specifically by teenagers, but I had absolutely no interest in the perceived demographic of readership. I now acknowledge it, and have learned a great deal from the process of getting the book out into the world, but I also think that anticipating one’s audience in any way is how shitty books are made. And it’s what the book industry, in general, loves to do. I made a focused effort not to dial back any of the violence, language, brutality, or sheer gravity of any scenes in this trilogy—I recognize that I’m sort of the gatekeeper of visual content here, and feel it’s important not to police any of that by virtue of being aware these are books filling up schools. Let the work speak for itself. Lots of indie comics readers might pass on the book simply because it’s perceived as being a YA title with a particular agenda, so I’m personally working against that grain.
WA: When you take on projects, whether they are collaborative like March or your own projects like Swallow Me Whole, do you consciously think about your project having a role in facilitating social change?
NP: All of the stories I make, and much of the music I’ve made, has a strong social and political component, but it has never been my intention—my conceit—to play a role in social change. Any Empire is probably the most concrete and overtly political book I’ve done (not counting March), but it’s largely a book of questions in a Southern gothic narrative. The more I age past my dogmatic early-mid 20’s, the more strongly I feel that putting a “message” at the forefront of one’s work is the easiest way to make shitty work. A graphic novel must stand as a book first and above all else—otherwise, why spend 3 years working on it, when you could spend a couple of months on something much more rewarding, less time consuming, that will be virtually guaranteed to be taken more seriously? I never would’ve joined the March team if the book didn’t stand as its own narrative first—there were plenty of possibilities for it to be a message-first failure, and what sealed the deal for me was the sense within the script that the book was existing for its own sake, that the narrative itself was important enough.
WA: What are your thoughts on the fact that March is a collaboration of three folks of different ages and background working together to tell a portion of the back-story to such an important time in American history?
NP: …[I]t’s a very satisfying and formally successful combination of our various strengths, but its transgenerational properties (from a creative standpoint) have been illuminating. We’re all Southerners, and beyond John Lewis’ personal life narrative, so much of the visual storytelling is a product of combining my life experiences and environment (over a generation later) with his. Besides being a native Arkansan, I spent most of my elementary school years in Montgomery, Alabama, and my family hails from northern Mississippi. The shameful historical inheritance of the South is countered in equal measure by a culture, by surroundings, so 