Interview with Nazario

One of the greatest honors since the opening of this blog: ground-breaking LGBT artist Nazario (Castilleja del Campo, Seville, 1944) has discussed with us his comic book Alí Babá y los 40 maricones, as well as his long lasting career, unforgettable friends such as one-of-a-kind Ocaña, sexual behavior, open relationships, censorship at present and in the Franco regime, other experiences in the world of art. . .Extremely touching is his remembrance of the love of his life: late artist Alejandro Molina.

Definitely not for prudes. . .Do not hesitate and enjoy the speech of this contumaciously bold, hopelessly square peg and terribly cuddly human being.

SPANISH GAY FICTION: Do you remember your early years in the comic tagged as underground? How was the comic book universe when you began? How different was your style from the type of Spanish mainstream comic then?

NAZARIO: In the 60’s/70’s the trend was sci-fi comic for adults, and adventure stories by French authors were translated. In Italy they were interested in Crepax’s Valentina or Hugo Pratt’s Corto Maltese, though I preferred comics such as Lucifera or Belzeba. Anyway, my biggest interest was French comics (e.g., Barbarella, Jodelle.) When I discovered American magazine MAD, I found a wide field of possibilities which would have influence in my dedication to comic. Then Zap Comix showed up, and everything changed. Crumb’s sassy scripts, and Clay Wilson’s messy, baroque drawings, plenty of sex and violence, started to define the way that I was going to lead as an illustrator.

The press started to use the term underground to classify us in the American trend, though our situation was a way really different under the strict censorship of the Franco regime. This censorship rules were applied to our comics, so I had to publish my most salacious stories in France; and in Spain I had to publish my own editing La Piraña Divina (“The Divine Piranha”) secretly.

SGF: You are usually considered the father of the Spanish underground comic in general terms, and the Spanish gay comic in particular. What do you feel about these labels? Do you think that they are fair, or excessive? Were there no Spanish underground or gay comic authors before you started to work in comics?

N: When I met the young illustrators in Barcelona, people who would take part in our publications later, I was coming from Seville with a portfolio full of drawings. I was a bit elder than my colleagues, and a kind of mature artist. From the very beginning I got interested in comics as an instrument to denounce the repression that women were suffering first, and later the repression that gays had suffered and were still suffering due to the religious, patriarchal education.

By those days, the only openly gay illustrations that I knew were by Tom of Finland.

SGF: Do you feel recognized in Spain? If not, which do you think the reasons are?

N: My work as an illustrator committed to freedom of speech and homosexual liberation, as well as the usual scandals with my publications and exhibitions, make average educated people know my work. Curiously, it may be the comic world—an atmosphere where I never felt fully identified with—where my work is not very much appreciated. I have never received an invitation to give a lecture about my work in any of the hundreds of comic book conventions held throughout the country. However, universities and museums have really got interested in my work.[1]

SGF: And beyond the Spanish boundaries? Are you a renowned author abroad?

N: Just Anarcoma was edited in English (in USA it was sold in sex shops only), French, Italian, German and Swedish. The rest of my work has not packed quite a punch internationally at all—except for the serial publication of Alí Babá y los 40 maricones in France.

SGF: The concept of Alí Babá y los 40 maricones reminds of Francisco Ibáñez’s 13, Rue del Percebe. Curiously, though you and Ibáñez are two legends in Spanish comic, your styles are really different. Ibáñez is a mainstream author for all audiences, while you are a cult author for a much more specific reader. Did you conceive Alí Babá y los 40 maricones as a way to deprave Ibáñez’s work? Did you get the inspiration from a real neighborhood—yours, for instance?

N: In 1977 I published three series of two pages each in Por Favor magazine[2] under the name Sábado, sabadete en los Apartamentos La Nave (“La Nave Apartments when Saturday”.)[3] It was the first time that I used the room scheme created by Ibáñez. It consisted of eight rooms where I portrayed the ordinary life of different groups: lefties, gays, lesbians, dopers, a young married couple, a traditional family, a young loner and a boarding house room. Years went by, and in 1990 I got around to repeating the room scheme to represent a variety of gay types: the young student in the attic who still has not accepted his homosexuality; the usual couple in which the one is promiscuous and the other is faithful; three friends sharing a room: the swishy, the Tom of Finland-type, and the office boy; and besides, the pub run by a kind of madam, where some neighbors meet a motley group.

SGF: Lola, the Alí Babá pub owner, is surrounded by gay men that she wants and tries to seduce, but they obviously reject her for being a woman. Is she inspired in anyone that you have ever known?

N: She works as a counterpoint among so much campy. If I had chosen a man, he would have been a problem in the relationships issue; a woman avoided problems for me instead, as there would be no rivalry with other fags to see who scores a misled good-looking man, or a hunky drunk.

SGF: What happened in 2007 when a government website considered Alí Babá y los 40 maricones as a recommended reading? Could you please explain it to the current reader? What did you feel about it?

N: One day someone suggested me to search on the web Alí Babá y los 40 maricones. I was not aware at all, and I just could not believe what I was reading. The socialist administration recommended the teachers to read it and keep up to date about what homosexual relationships are, and the Right Wing distorted it all, accusing the Ministry of Culture of corrupting school boys when making them read it. Bishops, journalists, radio stations and the whole right-winged mass media, from Castile to the Argentinean Pampas, asked for excommunicating each and every single member of the depraved socialist administration. I was all confused, as nobody from any of the two sides got in touch with me to ask my opinion.

SGF: Alí Babá y los 40 maricones is dedicated to Ocaña. Could you please explain the reader who Ocaña was and what he meant in the society of that time?

N: Ocaña meant a wake-up call in Barcelona 1970s. He was a stirrer and a revolutionist who, endowed with superb dramatic qualities, knew how to connect with his audience, striking a chord with them. Wherever he was (Las Ramblas,[4] a political meeting, the premiere of his films, a party or La Modelo),[5] Ocaña was never gone unnoticed; as striking as provoking, he proclaimed boisterously his sexual orientation and everybody’s right to live their lives freely and enjoy their own bodies as the most beautiful gift that Nature has given to us.[6]

SGF: Do you miss Ocaña? Do you think that we are in a time of political correctness that shouts out loud the need of many other Ocañas?

N: My life consists in giving up, healing my wounds and burying friends. With every dead friend, some places in my memory and irretrievable feelings are cut off inside me. Fortunately, I am easy going and try to accept getting older—something that never worried me much—and loneliness, a new situation in my life, something that I always tried to avoid by living with friends, in communes or as a couple. Today censorship is something unavoidable; repression wears new masks and crouches on the net or social networks, or is disguised as counter-terrorism. Today Ocaña would hold parties campaigning for revolutionary political groups, asking out loud through Las Ramblas for the support of immigrants, street vendors, neglected elderly, alcoholics frozen to death on the streets, or prostitutes’ free use right of their own bodies. . .Gays have been discriminated for centuries, and now we need to support every weak, vulnerable minor group.

SGF: Continuing with the political correctness issue, in Alí Babá y los 40 maricones you quote Kavafis, Mario Mieli and Marquis de Sade, three authors related to homosexuality, and (especially the latter two) polemical and controversial. Why did you choose these authors? Do you feel somehow identified with them, beyond the homosexuality topic?

N: Since its appearance in 1973, I treasure Recherches magazine number 12, “Trois Milliards de Pervers: Grande Encyclopédie des Homosexualités,” on which Deleuze, Foucault, Genet or Guattari collaborated, among others. Since it was published in 1979 in Spanish, Mario Mieli’s Homosexuality and Liberation: Elements of a Gay Critique (original title: Elementi di critica omosessuale) shines close to Tom of Finland’s complete works in my library; and, since my tender years, the books by Marquis de Sade has given pleasure to both my imagination and my cock. Kavafis, who is not my favorite poet, has been lying on my bedside table for long. As my creations are somehow a part of me, the logical thing is that they read and discuss authors closer to me.

SGF: I deduce from your description of Ernesto, the college boy in the attic, a certain criticism on the romantic, chaste homo saving himself for Prince Charming. Is he a type of homosexual that you dislike? Do you defend promiscuity against this attitude?

N: I had a friend who was the victim of a terrible disquisition: he could never have sex with someone he was not deeply in love with, since sex and love are two separate things for him. The boy in the attic suffers from immaturity, and a terrible repression above all. He refuses to have sex with a man that he likes, but he later masturbates while thinking of this man. As far as I have named my autobiography Un pacto con el placer (“An Agreement with Pleasure”), you can easily understand that, in the question of men, I consider myself greatly fond of at least—if not addicted to.

SGF: Tom and Tito are portrayed as an open relationship, whether Tito likes it or not. Tom cheats on him whenever he can, and Tito finally finds out and accepts it, though not his pleasure. Do you think that every homosexual couple will always fail in monogamy? According to you, is Tito submissive or permissive? Is Tom a morally guilty man, or just hopeless?

N: I fell in love with Alejandro[7] the very moment I met him, and, after a 36-year-long relationship, and more than a year since he died, I am still in love with him. I found too hard to overcome jealousy, dependence and exclusiveness. He was even more sexually active than me, and, if we had sex three times a day and later I discovered him having sex with another guy, then I pondered, if he was able to fuck for a fourth time, why should I stop him? Little by little we were meeting other men who occasionally came home to fuck with us both. We had sex with the same boyfriends for 15 or 20 years. We had an open relationship and, after some years, when any of these men finally chose me or Alejandro, we both still welcomed them home without incident. With the couple Tom and Tito I somehow tried to mock the concept of ordinary couple as a copy of the straight marriage.

SGF: To what extent do you think that the gay universe portrayed in Alí Babá y los 40 maricones is still present? Do you think that some changes have happened, and for better?

N: After the big shake-up which the discovery of AIDS meant, the increase in the rate of homosexual couples and the legalization of same sex marriage and adoption, I feel that the gays portrayed in this book are still archetypes and have not evolved at all. Today I should increase the number of apartments to try to picture other types who push the boundaries somehow: activists, agitators, crusaders committed to breaking the rules imposed and copied from stereotyped heterosexual relationships.

SGF: There is a noteworthy evolution in the comic; in the first strips you depict bareback sex, though in the last ones you highlight the use of condom in order to prevent sexually transmitted diseases. Was it an imposition by the publishing house? Was it a personal choice in regards to raise awareness among your readers?

N: I always tried to leave my creations free to fuck the way they wished. But there was a time in which I collaborated in “Póntelo, pónselo”[8] campaign first, and the campaign for HIV positive gays later, and it made sense to me that I could use my creations to support. There is a chapter in which La Borrega discovers that he is HIV positive, and I made the other characters show support for him.

SGF: What is your opinion on the current Spanish gay comic? Would you highlight any author or work in particular? Do you know any author who considers Nazario as an example?

N: Since I stopped illustrating comics to work in painting, I left the comic book world. I got interested in just a few graphic novels, and critics announced that these have made comic books achieve artistic maturity (putting comic on the same level than literature, just to depreciate the artistic interest of comic itself); they seem to me short-sighted and vague.

SGF: What are you working on now? What are your next projects?

N: I spent more than a year building my website, and three years writing my autobiography—one of its chapters, La vida cotidiana del dibujante underground (“The Ordinary Life of an Underground Illustrator”), will be published in May—; I have spent a lot of time scanning most of my comics to share freely on a hosting service, but I have eventually got censored. (Later, I created the blog nazariocanalla.blogspot.com, where I host them now.) I finished the 3^rd part of Anarcoma, whose script I had sketched for years—1^st and 2^nd part had been summed up to be published in one book; La Cúpula publishing house is prolonging the project to edit both parts together—. I dream of being able to post in a blog the book La Barcelona de los 70 vista por Nazario y sus amigos (“Barcelona in the 70’s Seen by Nazario & Friends”), adding more pics and videos. After last year’s exhibitions of Turandot in the University of Seville, and another one about Censorship in Bilbao, a photography exhibition about Plaza Real,[9] and another one of works by me and Alejandro, I am preparing an audiovisual event about my pictures, photomontages and videos on Plaza Real through the years. I also need time to work on a script for a film on the atmosphere of Plaza Real and surrounding areas in the 70’s/80’s. This continuous frenzy lightens the grieving, traumatic absence of Alejandro, my boyfriend for 36 years and husband for five days.

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[1] Nowadays Nazario’s work is exhibited in several Spanish museums, such as Reina Sofía in Madrid, or Museo de Arte Contemporáneo in Seville. He has also been awarded with Pablo Picasso Prize or Ministry of Culture’s Medalla de Oro de las Bellas Artes (“Fine Arts Golden Medal”), high honors in the Spanish cultural world.

[2] A humor magazine published from 1974 to 1978. It was considered a politically committed publication during the last period of the Franco dictatorship and the early years of the Transición Española.

[3] From Sábado, sabadete, camisa nueva y polvete (“When Saturday, a clean shirt and a quickie”): Popular sassy saying about the old day’s Spanish custom of changing clothes and having sex once a week on Saturdays.

[4] Iconic street in the city of Barcelona.

[5] Penitentiary center located in Barcelona.

[6] In addition to Nazario’s brilliant description, you can also see Spanish filmmaker Ventura Pons’s extraordinary documentary Ocaña, retrato intermitente (1978)—highly praised by Academy Award winner Fernando Trueba—for further information on José Pérez Ocaña (Cantillana, Seville, 1947 – 1983).

[7] Alejandro Molina (1951 – 2014). He was an artist, particularly devoted to sculpture. Although he was from Andalucía, his work is much more related to the city of Barcelona, where he designed the festivities decoration in Plaza Real for several years. Nazario and Alejandro met in 1978, and from that moment on they lived a beautiful story, unusual according to the traditional love relationship pattern, such as Nazario pictures it in this interview.

[8] Use it, make your partner use it: Motto of a popular media campaign for the use of condom to prevent sexual transmitted diseases among teenagers in Spain in the early 1990s, quite controversial due to the Catholic Church protest.

[9] An outstanding square in Barcelona, adjoining Las Ramblas, located in the tourist Gothic Quarter. 

Hungz n the Hood

On Nazario’s Alí Babá y los 40 maricones (“Ali Baba and the 40 Fags”)

Comic book author Francisco Ibáñez (Barcelona, 1936), the creator of worldwide known T.I.A. secret agents Mort & Phil (Spanish original: Mortadelo y Filemón), also portrayed in 13, Rue del Percebe a series of strips in which we can see the humorous, crazy, bizarre, overhasty day-to-day life of a bunch of inhabitants of the same building, from the ground floor to the attic, thanks to the disappearance of the fourth wall.

We find this same pattern in Nazario’s Alí Babá y los 40 maricones (1993).[1] In fact, this comic book may well be considered the gay, adult version of 13, Rue del Percebe—Regarding this inspiration, one of the strips is named “13, Rue Carolinas”—.[2]  Let’s have a look to the rule-breaking community that Nazario has amusingly pictured. We will begin from the top—

•Attic: Here we have Ernesto, a tall, blond, hung college student. However, behind his eyeglasses there is a shy and sentimental boy who never dares to have sex with others, so he eventually gets swept up in wet fantasies and beats off.

Conversely, his cat[3] is always excited and screws every other feline in the neighborhood. He also laughs at his owner’s virgin and naïve attitude. This relationship reminds of the famous Garfield and his owner Jon’s; besides, the cat is the same tabby kind than Jim Davis’s creation, as well as in one of the strips—“Entre policías y ladrones” (“Among Cops and Robbers”)—he admits his wish to have sex with Garfield.

Ernesto is fond of weighlifting to build his vigorous body, as well as the art of Renata Tebaldi and Espronceda’s “Canto a Teresa” (“Song to Teresa”).[4]

Sometimes Nazario pictures him being raped by several men all at once (maybe one of Ernesto’s sexual fantasies?), or afraid of going out in female disguise when Carnival, as he does not want to be recognized by his college classmates.

•2^nd Floor: Here we find three roommates. Let’s start with Yanpol, a voracious leatherman whose look is very similar to the typical heroes by Tom of Finland.

With his 3-day beard and hairy chest, Yanpol deflowers workmen who claim no previous homosexual experience before him. He and his roommate La Borrega (“The Sheep,” also meaning simple-minded) celebrate orgies at the drop of a hat.

La Borrega above-mentioned is a phallomaniac hooked up in his own private quest for the biggest cocks in the gay universe. He is dark, curly haired, and wears thick-rimmed glasses; he is not especially charming—though really hung. He can cause a bathroom breakdown just to welcome home again his favorite plumber.

He finally gets AIDS. . .Nevertheless, he will enjoy the understanding and affection from all his group of loving, horny friends.

And there is also Luigi (sometimes called La Deisy). He represents just the opposite to his two roommates: He is a swishy, pansy, weedy, blond drama queen who seems to hate sex. He frequently quarrels with his roommates because of the orgies that they celebrate counting him out, as well as he takes a crack at their lovers. He is also terribly afraid that the sofa cover gets ruined during these orgies.

He owns a poodle called Divain, who looks like a canine version of him.

Luigi is fond of gossip, a Walt Disney Pictures’ Little Mermaid fan and a Barbie collector.

•1^st Floor: The one and only long term relationship on the block: Tom and Tito.

Tom is elder than Tito. With his incipient baldness and a long, scarce ponytail, he makes the most of Tito’s absence to cheat on him. Tito always finds out, and Tom excuses himself by claiming that it is Tito the one that he really loves. To make matters worse, Tom is extremely jealous of Tito.

Tom keeps a diary in which he takes down all his affairs. He usually catches sexual transmitting diseases due to his immoderate infidelities. Sometimes he is a kind of reckless, and once he even welcomed home a group from a satanic cult that practices human sacrifices—

Tito is a hot, pretty boy (Nazario endows him with a forelock very similar to Superman’s). Tito is loyal to Tom, despite the sex offers from numerous men (including La Borrega). When Tom met Tito, Tito was bisexual. But since their torrid love affair began, Tom is the only love in Tito’s life. Tito is so used to his partner’s unfaithful behavior that he accepts this as long as he does not see it. He commonly dislikes Tom’s lovers.

•Located in the ground floor, there is the Alí Babá pub. Lola, the owner, is a woman who is a dead ringer for John Waters’ films star Divine. She is the nosiest in the whole neighborhood. Her parrot, called Alí Babá, is as snooping as his owner.

Lola tries to score every hung & hunk men (with a special predilection for workmen, sailors and black men) who turn up in her pub. . .The point is that each and every single one are gay, so she does not have any other choice but sucking it up. Just as Luigi, she loves being the center of attraction. Lola does not accept the passing of time. She is a widow, so she is used to fend for herself; she does not feel intimidated when problems show up.

The usual barflies in Alí Babá are workmen, grey foxes, young gym queens in fashion, junkies, cross-dressers—most of them horny or broken hearted. There, they hold disguise parties that tend to come to a terrible end, such as robberies, etc.

So, here you have a brief description of the wild, urban, loony, wacky, lustful, shocking, irrepressible, irresistible modern Sodom full of sound and fury that Nazario imagined, with no other purpose than the joyful celebration of inflamed sex. Thus—What are you waiting for? Hurry up and join the party!

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[1] Although 1993 was the year in which the whole collection of strips was published as a comic book, they actually had been published separately in several underground magazines before.  

[2] Calle Carolinas: a popular street in the city of Barcelona.

[3] In Ibáñez’s 13, Rue del Percebe, the attic resident—an inveterate debtor—also lives with a cat.

[4] José de Espronceda (Almendralejo, 1808 - Madrid, 1842). He was one of the most outstanding Spanish poets in the Romanticism period.

Interview with Sebas Martín

Sebas Martín (Barcelona, 1961), the author of Aún estoy en ello, has talked to spanishgayfiction.blogspot.com about his work, same-sex marriage, comics, politics, love, sex, life, and so on. I will always appreciate this plentiful, interesting interview he has granted.

SPANISH GAY FICTION: What did you do the day of the same-sex marriage law approval? Did you live a huge celebration on the streets such as Salva and his friends do in Aún estoy en ello?

SEBAS MARTÍN: Almost… I was somewhat less expressive, but I do remember me and my circle of old friends joining for a home dinner to celebrate it. Along came institutional and associational events I was invited to, where we all congratulated one another. It was a great day and a great achievement for people like me, who still had experienced the customs of the Francoist regime in its death throes: peepholed-door gay clubs, social dangerousness law, and so on. I have no intention to get married (at least for now, LOL), but the right to do so puts me on the same level than the others.

SGF: The final sentence of your comic is: “After all, it did seem things were changing…” Nine years (it seems like it was just yesterday!) after the same-sex marriage law approval, do you really think things have already changed? Is there still a lot to do?

SM: Things have changed because laws have to be like the mirror of the current society. Firstly, a law must make a righteous deed legal, and then it is a matter of time that society in general makes it normal. Let me paraphrase my own comic and say: we're still on it. While it is true that the LGBT fact can be seen as something ordinary in the big cities (a law considering homophobia as a crime has just been approved in Barcelona), you cannot say the same in the question of smaller cities or rural communities. And these rights are, apparently, in constant danger of being abolished. We must not forget that one of the election promises of the PP[1] during their last campaign was to abolish same-sex marriage. There are still not only pending issues, but we also cannot drop our guard about the work done.

SGF: I am totally ignorant about the status of the Spanish gay-themed comic domestically… Is it a rising value? Do you have multitude of followers? Or is it a minority, selective audience?

SM: The number of followers is constantly increasing, though it is still for minorities as it may be considered a genre comic. The problem with gay comics is the same as mainstream comics. In Spain, the comic has always been considered a second-rate literary genre, and it was only until very recently that it has attracted attention from the world of culture. If a comic book artist is like a pariah (sorry for the comparison) in the literary creation world, then a gay-themed comic book artist is a female pariah. However, I cannot complain: While it is true my target audience is more limited than others, it is also really devoted.

SGF: And how does the Spanish gay comic work beyond our borders? In your case, are you an internationally-recognized author?

SM: The places where comics work best are, generally, French-speaking countries, since they consider comics a very important part of their culture. However, it is also true that these countries are suffering a wave of conservatism, and that does not help too much if you are gay-themed work author. Regarding the Spanish gay comic abroad, it is almost completely unknown. Well, I would even dare to leave out ’almost’. I think some work by Nazario[2] was translated long time ago to some other language, but I have no news about more Spanish gay-themed comic authors having their work translated (I may be wrong, anyway). I think Ismael Álvarez and David Cantero[3] have done something, but I am not sure.
I took my first steps internationally---with modest results, I must confess. Some of my work has been translated into French, English, German, and Italian. Eve my contribution to the comic album Historia de Sitges ("The Sitges Story"), which was Machos al sol ("Machos in the Sun"), was translated into Croation, since I gave the copyrighs to an LGBT association in Croatia for a very underground publication.
In addition, I have been invited to comic conventions in Angoulême and Helsinki, and given lectures in Berlin and Paris, and I am still surprised to be the speaker or guest of honor beyond the Pyrenees.

SGF: In the very first pages of Aún estoy en ello we can see a manifestation against gay marriage, where you portrayed a series of characters, all of them representing the most conservative population of Spain, giving their reasons why they do not admit it. One of them bears a suspicious resemblance to Rouco Varela, a member of the Catholic Church in Spain who has shown his opposition to this law in the most emphatic way. Did you have fun working on these two pages of the comic? Or, were you in an enraged mood and the result was a kind of settling of scores?

SM: Well, it was a settling of scores and I was enraged---but it was very funny, LOL. I believe these suspicious resemblances came from deep inside my guts. And the ‘pearls of wisdom’ the protesters let out are taken directly from actual statements that I read in the press or heard on the TV news. I had a very good time working on those pages, but it was also a kind of little catharsis.

SGF: The stable, long-term relationship is represented in Salva's parents in the comic. However, these characters do not show any complicity or affection for each other. What is your opinion on LTRs? Do you believe in them? Or, do you think, as Rafa says, that marriage is an outdated, anachronistic institution?

SM: See... my characters express opinions which can be far from matching mine. Each one of them thinks in a different way than the others. Salva's parents represent those typical elderly couples based on an affection that has gradually turned into monotony, as many people of their generation. In addition to this, if things between them did not go well, they even could not divorce as a means of escaping. Rafa's remarks about life as a couple are very libertarian, but he eventually asks his boyfriend to marry him in the last pages of Aún estoy en ello. Rita and Salva believe in the GREATEST love and do not find it...There is not a general rule to measure for everyone. Love can last for ever or not. But I do not believe in marriage as an excuse to make it last. You must stay with your partner just because you want to, because all your body asks for it. If not, turn the page of your life story. Years ago, one of my characters said this: “Love is like a butane bottle: When it is out of gas, you have to replace it.”

SGF: Salva is a fervent follower of Sex and the City, a TV series which has usually received criticism due to its gallery of somehow stereotyped characters. Salva's friends seem to represent, each one of them, a cliché linked to the gay universe: Rafa, the bear; Oriol, the drama queen; Rita, the fag hag... Take this opportunity to stand up for stereotypes.

SM: Well, I defend the use of stereotypes because they do exist. You only need to go out and see the people on the street. Society compels to define one’s self by clichés: bears, gym queens, hipsters, tops, bottoms... Perhaps we are generally not so stereotypical (well, the people you can see in a circuit or a kedada[4] are reliable evidence of the existence of stereotypes--and how!), but clichés are useful tools that help tell stories in a way that characters are more defined and you can develop a very specific feature in them. Let’s just say it is a literary license that works very well.

SGF: During the Christmas shopping episode, Oriol defies an old man who talks disparagingly about homosexuals. Oriol defends his attitude, despite his friends' warnings, stating this is the way to earn popular respect. Do you agree with Oriol's behavior in similar situations, or do you think it is better to conduct yourself otherwise, even ignoring the provocations?

SM: You cannot confront anyone who says things you do not like or agree with. It is neither necessary nor worthy. But there are times you hear such nagging things that you can hardly shut up. I do not use to be a troublesome guy--just the opposite! But I am very proud of being the way I am, and if someone questions this by forcing me to listen to their opinion---Well, I am afraid that person will have to listen to mine, like it or not.

I think you should not go the agitators' way, but you cannot let them humiliate you.

SGF: With your permission, I would say that your generosity with Lucas (when you give him such a beefcake as a boyfriend at the end of the story) is so excessive that sounds just like a tall tale--really hard to believe. Were you carried along by the celebration moment of positivity, or do you know of any similar case?

SM: Curiously, things seeming more unreal are, many times, based on true stories in my comics. I know of three very similar cases--handicapped guys, unattractive guys, or both--and they are dating real stunners. And up to this point I remind the popular Spanish saying: ‘La suerte de la fea, la guapa la desea.’[5] (Quite true, by the way… LOL)

SGF: One of the aspects I find most interesting in Aún estoy en ello is the way sexuality is portrayed: You show it bluntly, but without falling into pornography; you do not judge, although there is clearly a rule breaking in the conventional game of monogamy. There are no fixed roles with respect to the top/bottom positions. Do you think homosexual relationships can be too shocking in the eyes of the heterosexual population?

SM: Well, they first make much fuss--and then they confess they work the same. There are very active women and very passive men, and also straight people who live their sexual life openly. The Gay Kama Sutra I created along with Diego J. Cruz has been more successful among straight girls than gay men. Even they ask for my personal dedication! Some confess it is always good to learn new things. You can find very timorous heterosexuals, that is true---but also very timorous gays.

SGF: The episode of the beefcake of Naples in the trattoria seems taken directly from an erotic film. It is now when you shut me up and say it is based on a real experience…

SM: TOTALLY REAL… but my lips are sealed.

SGF: The story of old Román is my favorite. It could well deserve a comic book itself. Have you ever met someone who has lived a similar story in those times during Francoism? Did you do some research? Was the gay-hunt as ruthless as you depict it?

SM: I did research, I met with a group of gay elderly... charming all of them!!! And I have a drawer full of notes to do something set in that period in the future. I am really willing. I also admit it is one of my favorite chapters. It is a humble tribute to all those who lived in a much harder time, when you risked your job and even your life just for loving someone of the same gender. We owe the situation we are in now to many of them, thanks to their struggle and courage.

SGF: Now let's talk about the way you depict the young homosexuals in the comic. Aitor, the cunning, hypocritical young student, makes Salva get fired from his job since he could not get what he wanted. Xicu is eventually (Poor Salva!) a complete nightmare. Both are selfish, manipulative characters. Aún estoy en ello may even be understood as a warning for middle-aged gays to act warily with the younger. Do you feel there is a big difference in attitude between young gay men and gays of Salva's generation?

SM: It is not exactly a question of generation. In the gay universe (and in the hetero universe many times also), youth is a rising value that seems to override any other. The other day, when discussing a political issue with someone ostentatiously younger than me, he replied I am a "fat, ugly old lady"...Weight reasons in political issues, don't you think?---In the gay universe (not always, but often) the young tend to domineer the older...now and 200 years ago. In the case you mention, the different attitudes between Salva and his friends and young people are that the latter do not value what they have, since they found it all done, and the point of defending LGBT rights seems to them a thing from the time when dinosaurs roamed the earth.

SGF: Salva is a huge Corto Maltese fan. I can see in Xicu certain features similar to Corto’s. Was it on purpose?

SM: Absolutely. Everybody searches for their fantasies. Unfortunately for Salva, although Xicu may look like Corto just in appearance, he lacks of the romantic, adventurer nature of Hugo Pratt's creation. Never mind...

SGF: I find priceless Xicu’s explanation on people’s outlooks about the difference between a gay tourist and a gay resident in Ibiza. Do you think there is still such a hypocritical attitude?

SM: I heard this statement from a guy of Ibiza. Not someone living in Ibiza in that time, but a lifelong resident, someone whose surname is Marí or Tur, the most popular, traditional family names in the island. And now I recall one of your first questions, where you asked me if there was still a lot to do. Keep in mind that there are tourist places where the only aspect the residents consider in gay visitors (no matter if they have been crowds for decades) is their money. However, they do not like the idea of having gay relatives. It is amazing to know the large number of citizens in Sitges, one of our first national gay destinations, who still denies this situation and claims “there are just a few clubs for people like this, and that is all.”

SGF: Talking about Xicu, he is quite an irritating character. The fact that Salva, a homosexual going through a midlife crisis, could withstand all the humiliations just for sex and fear of solitude reflects a certain masochistic aspect in relationships. To what extent does the story of Salva and Xicu represent your own view of relationships?

SM: I have seen things like this in several couples. When I broke up with the partner I lived my longest-lasting relationship with (12 years), an acquaintance told us he did not understand why, since it is better to be in bad company than alone in this world. And there are many people who think so. Sometimes, gays seem to be women of the 1940s: Society instilled in them a dreadful fear of being single. Life as a couple is wonderful, but only if it is fulfilling. You live and share with that someone, you do not put up with. If so... out! And if your love dies ’of overuse’, as Jurado[6] sang, then try to find another...or not. You have to learn to be okay with yourself in order to feel comfortable with someone.

SGF: Anyway, I think that, despite Xicu's annoying behavior, you are not too harsh on him. He is a repressed guy ready to conquer the big city, get the most out of a freedom he has not enjoyed in his small town; but his immatureness will cost him dear, and he will finally have to give up his constant-party dream and go back home with his tail between his legs. I have the feeling that you somehow feel affection for him, understand him...

SM: Yes, because he is just an immature guy. He is not a vicious son of a bitch: He just cannot do better. Xicu is one of those guys (and we all have met lots of them) who are very true and loving when you meet them in the loneliness of their town, and then they come to the big city and see so many hot gay men on the street. And as they do not want to miss a thing, then you cannot stop the inevitable… In a dialogue finally deleted in the script, Oriol said to Xicu: “Okay, so you were not a slut in your village just because you didn't have the chance.”

SGF: What are your current projects? What are you working on?

SM: I am ending up the second part of Kedada, the new adventures of Peluche, and making a cookbook to win over beefcakes, LOL. Meanwhile I make flyers and posters and take part in all the collaborations I can make some money with. I am making exhibitions from time to time. I do not know how I can find time to do it all...

SGF: And finally, a doubt... In the last panel there is a man with a camera. Who is he?

SM: Oh! It is the photographer Guillem Medina, a good friend of mine, who asked me to appear in and helped me in several works. He was one of the first cameo appearances I made. Now all my friends ask to appear in, LOL.

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[1] PP: Partido Popular (“Popular Party”). It is the political party which won the last general election. Thus, it forms the current national administration in Spain.

[2] Nazario (b. 1944) is considered the father of the underground comic in Spain. His most popular creation was Anarcoma, a transvestite detective.

[3] Ismael Álvarez (b. 1978) and David Cantero (b. 1972) are two of the most outstanding, celebrated Spanish gay-themed comic authors nowadays.

[4] Kedada: a gathering arranged through the net.

[5] Sorry, but I do not know any equivalent expression in English. It could be said: ‘The beautiful covets the luck of the homely.’

[6] Rocío Jurado (Chipiona, Cádiz, 1944 – Madrid, 2006) was the perfect example of the Spanish popular folk singer. Her fans used to call her “The Greatest” because of her powerful, over-the-top performances. Sebas Martín mentions here a line from “Se nos rompió el amor” (“Our Love Broke into Pieces”), one of the most popularly demanded songs of her repertoire.