Comic Heroes

Uth Roeun emerges from a backroom of his cluttered studio at the base of Wat Phnom with his hands covered in paint. Pointing to walls covered with paintings, he winces at the memory of his first comic, which pales in comparison to the drawings he is capable of today.

“Frankly the illustrations weren’t beautiful. I had no idea how to draw properly. When I’d finished illustrating the first one, no printers wanted to take it,” the artist says.“Not just because of that,” he jokes. “But also because it was new and nothing like it had ever been produced before.”

Now aged 69, Uth is the grand master of Cambodian comics and has published more than 40 in his lifetime. He stumbled into the career after a childhood spent pouring over American comic strips and Hergé’s illustrated tales of Belgian journalist Tintin.

“I was reading a lot of comics that were coming in from France. I had these thoughts in my mind of how to do one myself in Khmer, and then finally one day I just decided to try it,” he says.

A sympathetic printer finally agreed to take a chance on Uth in 1964 and his first comic, Neytung Neysang — based on the adventures of two teenage friends — hit the street. An initial print run of 10,000 was quickly followed by another.

As copies began circulating, Uth realised he had hit it rich. “I got paid 4,000 riel for the first print run, which is worth more than $4,000 today,” he explains. “I couldn’t even spend all the money.”

Fellow young artists soon cashed in on the trend, releasing comics and illustrated pulp novels with names like Stormy Mind of a Young Girl and Mr Soy Visits Heaven.

Cambodian comic books, then known as bande dessineé, were sold over the counter in markets across Phnom Penh, sparking a public craze for more. Uth’s proudest achievement was finishing a comic adaptation of the Cambodian folklore tale Tum Teav, as well as the family drama Bong Proh Chet Bot or Generous Older Brother.

The Cambodian comic industry started to wane during the 1980s and 1990s, with widespread plagiarism and the popularity of TV leading to declining returns for artists. John Weeks, founder of non-profit Our Books, which is dedicated to preserving the work of early Cambodian comic artists, has seen hopeful signs of resurgence.

“In the past, drama and the performing arts were the first areas to get attention from the cultural community, now we’re seeing visual arts start to really take wing and fly,” he says.

In recent years, artists such as Ung Bunheam and Phousera Ing have published successful comics, while workshops organised by Battambang art school Phare Ponleu Selpak help keep the medium alive.

As founder of the Association of Artist Friends, Uth himself has trained more than 1,000 students since 2006. Earlier this year, he was designated a national living treasure by the Cambodian government in recognition of his work.

Now semi-retired due to failing eyesight, he’s amazed at the talents of many students, although many decide to pursue more lucrative careers in graphic design or school textbook illustration.

“The young generation aren’t as interested in comics. They work all day or study all day and come home, watch TV and fall asleep, and repeat it again the next day. There’s no time for them to write and draw,” he says.

Uth's advice for would-be comic book artists is to keep it simple. “If you’re young then don’t write about sadness. Don’t write about killing and war. It doesn’t impress me; it makes me even sad because I know what the reality is like. Instead write from your heart with emotion about what you know.”

Sourced: Asialifeguide