distinct and beautiful that I’m honored to be able to inject some of my own memories into the visuals. In contrast to the usual narrative of how much time has seemingly passed since the Jim Crow South, I feel our comic helps simultaneously reveal how clearly fifty years is NOT a huge span of time. These are towns, streets, and farmland that we all know and recognize. By the same token, these struggles were waged by people just like us—by our neighbors, our parents, our grandparents.
WA: How did the idea of telling Congressman Lewis’s story (at least in Book One) as a series of flashbacks during Congressman Lewis’s preparation for the swearing in of President Obama develop?
NP: That comes down to Andrew, co-writer of Marchand John Lewis’ staffer. Andrew was present at the Capitol on Inauguration Day, and got to see some incredible things. His unique and privileged perspective there as a veritable fly-on-the-wall was something he thought could weave the past and present in a resonant and relevant way. So many of us were deeply moved on election night, Inauguration Day, and the months between, though many of us are confused by and suspicious of those same feelings. Especially as (in my personal opinion) Obama has firmly established himself as just another president, as a centrist- appeasing disappointment (I must counter that by also stating I voted for him both times, and would do so again), so many of us were shocked by what seemed the tangible possibility that things could actually be different on a very large scale, that it was possible to have a president who wasn’t a total bastard. I felt the same way—we fight for change on smaller fronts, but to see evidence of a larger, more encouraging step forward was exhilarating. We cried, and felt that a divergent future was actually possible. In 2014, it’s very easy to forget that specific feeling (or more commonly, to be embarrassed by it), but the Inaugural scenes in Marchserve to remind most of us how we felt on that day, and allowing the reader to tie the past and the present together in a meaningful way.
WA: In illustrating March, what part of the story did you find the most difficult in depicting and why was it so difficult?
NP: One of the most challenging aspects is finding the proper balance between emotional, subjective, often internal representations of experience, and responsible, accurate depictions of real historical folks with real lives and families. The first scene I ever touched was young John Lewis’ first meeting with Dr. King, and I quickly learned how difficult it is to correctly draw King. His face is so recognizable, so iconic and simple, that any unessential line destroys the delicate rendering of his likeness. Virtually every character comes with that same baggage—a lot of research and practice to give the illusion of an effortless, consistent likeness.
Also, the unconcealed brutality. In Book One, the most difficult page was definitely drawing the corpse of Emmett Till accurately but “tastefully”, responsibly but without cleaning up the sheer horror of what these monsters did to a teenage boy.
WA: Along the same lines, of your illustrations in March, are there particular images you found (or hoped) to be powerful depictions of the Civil Rights Movement?
NP: In Book One, it’s definitely the scenes of activists walking through a rare snowy day in Nashville, exiting their church, moving through downtown, entering stores. This is largely because of the romance carried in Southern snow, of these young people being caught up in it amidst their mission. Another powerful sequence is John Lewis getting sucker punched as he approaches a Woolworth’s counter, then in a Steve Ditko-esque 3-panel sequence, forcing himself back to his feet, taking the counter seat as his peers continue to be beaten and pulled from chairs as they attempt to sit.
WA: Despite the United States currently having a President whose biracial heritage is so clearly evident, where do you see the Civil Rights Movement currently standing?
NP: The “Civil Rights Movement” is a fairly specific thin