Tu n’es pas le seul. Je fais partie des gens qui prononce très mal les noms… même ceux en français. Je vais donner un exemple : Thierry Ardisson. Pendant un bon moment avant qu’on me corrigeait, je le prononçais à l’anglaise « Ardissonne » 
(j’ai eu tellement honte par la suite… j’ai eu droit à des moqueries… (
))
Moi je le prononce : « gros connard »
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Rohh
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je suis injuste en effet. Il n’est pas gros
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Encore plus maintenant.
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Ron Garney
Fly well Sal–it was an honor of a lifetime to work with you, and an even bigger honor to learn.
Merci les gars pour ces retros.
C’est con, parce que c’est lié à un truc triste, mais ca égaie ma fin de journée particulièrement… hum… agaçante
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Complètement; je n’ai pas lu grand chose pré 2000. J’ai quelques Epic sur les New Mutants de Sienkiewicz, Hulk de Peter David ou quelques Daredevil d’Ann Nocenti et des revues Panini qui réimprimaient du patrimoine type Kirby.
Walter Simonson
Sal Buscema has climbed aboard Thor’s chariot and pulled by the goats, Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr, he has taken that last ride over Bifrost into the mystic. I had the privilege of working him on The Mighty Thor and he became a good friend. Sal drew Thor 355, a fill in that gave me a break as I was concluding the Surtur Saga. The issue dealt with the aftermath of Odin’s apparent death and Thor’s reaction to it. We worked ‘Marvel-style”, meaning I sent Sal the issue’s plot, and got back 22 pages of penciled storytelling. I had always admired Sal’s work, but it wasn’t till that issue that I realized what a masterful storyteller he was. There was a scene where Thor is talking to a freshly born little woman of ice about the nature of life and death as Thor is having difficulty reconciling his own life with the loss of his father. And the little creature offers some words of wisdom even as she herself is melting. Sal drew the scene so beautifully that it was both easy to write and a pleasure to do, and it remains a personal favorite of all the stuff I’ve written, including work I’ve drawn myself. So when I decided to leave off drawing the book, Sal was my first choice as the new artist. He penciled and inked his issues and we had great fun and told some good stories.
Of course, he did many other comics over his career, several for longer than he drew Thor. But to me, he will always be my partner in that particular endeavor.
I could say much more but I’ll close with one other story, not widely known. I was wandering around Marvel’s old offices on Park Avenue South at one point in the executive end. As I passed somebody’s door – don’t remember who now – I saw a plaque on the wall. Something about it was familiar and the exec wasn’t in just then so I stepped into his office for a closer look. Imagine my surprise to discover it was a metal etching (or whatever) of the cover for Thor 355, the only art I contributed to Sal’s fill in issue, mounted on a wooden base. And the legend below the reproduction of the cover said that the plaque was in commemoration of Thor 355 being send into space on the space shuttle, Challenger, in July of 1985. Apparently, a group named the Young Astronauts, had been allowed to place several items in a container of some kind and the container was carried by the Challenger into orbit and then returned to earth. So as far as I know, Sal and I produced to first comic book to go into space! Outstanding!!
Thanks for everything, Sal. The friendship, the work, the life well lived. My love to Joan and the boys. Godspeed, pal. I love you.
The photo is Weezie, Sal, and me at the 2013 Baltimore Comic Con, taken by Bruce Guthrie. Thank you, Bruce.
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Parmi les nombreuses représentations de Hulk, celle qui correspond vraiment à la vision que j’ai du personnage (à ne pas confondre avec celle qui a ma préférence), c’est celle de Sal Buscema. Un peu comme John Romita Sr sur Spider-Man, ce sont des représentations qui traversent le temps, ou qui témoignent au moins d’une époque représentant l’essence du comics book super héroïque.
Yep, la version de Sal c’est vraiment l’image d’épinal (plus encore que celle d’Herb Trimpe) du Hulk « classique » (comprendre par là pré-PAD/retour au gris).
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JM DeMatteis :
Back in 2013, I wrote a blog post extolling the joys of working with the great Sal Buscema, who passed away on Friday. You can read it below.
There are two basic ways that comic books are written. The first is full script (that’s where the writer lays out the whole story page by page, panel by panel, including camera-angles, captions and dialogue) and the other is plot-first (the writer creates a detailed plot outline which then goes to the artist. When the writer gets the pencilled pages back, he then adds the dialogue and captions). Both approaches have their strengths and I enjoy working either way. The challenge of a full script is that every element of the story is in your hands. You’re in full control of the material. The challenge of plot-first, of course, is that you’re often surprised by what your artist does—and your scripting is directly influenced by it. Sometimes that’s a wonderful thing, sometimes not. There are some artists who can draw very well but have yet to master the art of visual storytelling—and it can be difficult (to say the least) trying to make up for their shortcomings via dialogue and captions. But when “Marvel style”—another popular name for the plot-first method—works, it’s magical.
One of the most magical experiences I had was back in the 90’s when I was collaborating with the great Sal Buscema on Spectacular Spider-Man. Sal and I hit it off from the first panel of our first story and my admiration for him remains boundless. He can draw beautifully, he’s an impeccable visual storyteller and a total professional. Add to that the fact that Sal is a truly good person—I’d go so far as to use an old-fashioned word and call him a gentleman—and you can understand why I loved working with him.
My plots were usually very tight—page by page, panel by panel, crammed with camera angles, psychological shading and rough-draft dialogue—but whatever was on the page, Sal was always able to take it to another level and do things that many other artists couldn’t. Case in point: Spectacular Spider-Man #200, which featured the death of Harry Osborn (who was then making no end of trouble as the Green Goblin).
There was a sequence at the end of that story (perhaps my favorite out of all the Spider-Man tales I’ve written) where Harry, realizing that he loved Peter Parker too much to let him die, saves a drugged, weak Spidey from a death-trap. Peter, his wife Mary Jane and Harry’s son, Norman, all stand by, shocked and heartbroken, as Harry then collapses, overcome by the toxic Goblin formula.
On the final two pages, Spidey accompanies Harry into an ambulance, they drive off and Harry passes away, leaving Peter Parker to his grief and memories. When the ambulance arrives at the hospital, it falls to Spider-Man to tell Mary Jane and Norman that Harry’s gone. They react, we cut to a photo of Peter and Harry in happier days…and the story ends. The sequence was small, quiet, but, on an emotional level, it was massive.
I did everything I could to communicate the power of those last pages to Sal in the plot—along with my thoughts on how the sequence would be handled in the final script. My intention was to verbally milk the pages for all they were worth, wringing out every last drop of emotion; going big and melodramatic via captions, inner monologues from Peter or dialogue between the characters. (Another benefit of « Marvel style »: I didn’t have to decide then, I could make up my mind when the art was done.)
Then Sal’s pages came in: It was one of his finest hours. The panel to panel flow was cinematic and crystal clear, the characters dramatic and achingly human. And those final two pages? Perfection! At first—locked into my original vision—I began writing captions and dialogue for the end-sequence, but it quickly became clear that everything I wanted to say had already been said, and better, by Sal. It was all there in the pictures. He had translated my plot so expertly that words would have capsized the sequence and destroyed the emotional power of the moment. So I shut my big mouth and let Harry Osborn die in silence, with his best friend by his side.
That, too, is part of a writer’s work—especially in comics: deciding when to speak and when to shut up. Deciding whether to go for a barrage of machine-gun dialogue, a series of powerful captions or to surrender to equally-powerful silence. Whether we’re working full-script of plot-first, we make those decisions on every panel of every page.
And it certainly helps the process when you’ve got an artist like Sal Buscema bringing your story to life. Take a look at the images below and you’ll see what I mean.
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Quelle grande saga.
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Une saga qui était très bien quand je l’ai lue la première fois.
Et qui gagne en qualité et en impact à chaque fois qu’on y revient.
Jim
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Ça ferait de beaux omnibus « Spider-Man par… »
Ah !
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah !
Il me manque qu’une année… j’attends sa réédition…