Feast of Grease

Reviews

Frank M. Young | February 20, 2025

This volume is a self-curation of comics and illustrations by Portland’s Chris Cilla, whose work, like James Stanton’s in Seattle, epitomizes the Great Northwest Gristle ‘n’ Sweat style of contemporary underground comix. Cilla’s imagery and narratives achieve a dream state, shot through with urban detritus and a general 3 a.m.-and-a-bit-woozy state of mind. There’s a lot to take in on every page of this compendium, which mixes band fliers, imagined comic book covers, one-page tableaux and several of Cilla’s fractured/discombobulated narratives.

One of a series of books published by Portland comics shop Floating World, this trade paperback is handsomely printed, with Cilla’s color work vivid and pleasing to the eye. His ink washes and linework in black and white are clear, sharp and well-balanced. Cilla adds collage and the texture of paper to his pen and brush drawings, which he colors with watercolor and marker. There are examples of his home-made silkscreen prints as well.

The comics narratives pop up between wedges of single-page pieces, with themes of urban blight and general dystopia the connecting thread through these 112 pages. Cilla’s single pages hum with activity and thought; they’re comix poems that express the inexpressible with a warped clarity that can be startling, laff-out-loud funny and/or shocking. I have more than one reaction to much of his work. I love the brain fog his pages seduce me into; finding my way out, bit by bit, is the adventure in all his art.

Much of this material has appeared in local zines, such as Vision Quest, and in wider-circulated items like Kramer’s Ergot — where I first encountered Cilla’s work. Little of it, if any, will be familiar to most people.

A little of this goes a long way — and that’s a compliment. A single-page such as “Start Over … Finish Under” delivers a wealth of punch lines, gross-outs and bewilderment amidst a scene of a vast maze (or office cubicle) rendered in warm wash tones and intriguing perspective. Each segment of the maze is like a random comics panel in a story which asks the reader to find their own sense of form. Cilla has a gift for dada-esque non-sequiturs, as witnessed in a frightened character’s exit line: “I’m late for a chocolate shake!” It’s typical to spend up to 20 minutes on a single page herein; the layout and imagery invite a stream-of-consciousness spree by the audience. One’s mind wanders in welcome ways when exploring Cilla’s work.

The longer narratives demand focus and acceptance as they wend their way through worlds that look something like ours but teem in narcoleptic flights of fancy. “Mild Hasslecop” and “Pushing” form the heart of the book. Their 24 pages riff on motifs from classic underground comix, genre TV and movies and create a chain of bodily fluids, organs, cars, night, drugs, booze, asphalt and the sweaty, porous presence of human beings. With a one-page ode to Jay Lynch as their entr’acte, these two stories — both themed with the perils of law enforcement and human corruption — are a singular experience.

“Mild Hasslecop” includes hand-written notes collaged onto its color pages that appear to be notes-to-self of what Cilla hoped to achieve somewhere on their surfaces. It’s a refreshing touch — meta, but effective devices to pull the reader out of the story for a moment, then let them drop back in.

Amidst the mind-altering comix trips of Feast are moments of personal history. “Time Zoned” is a reminiscence of a trip Cilla’s family took in the Southwest circa 1987, where they passed through Coconino County and the lands of the Navajo Nation. Beneath a fanciful landscape with the young Cilla drawing, surrounded by local flora and fauna (including animal characters from Gus Arriola’s newspaper comic-strip Gordo), Cilla reflects on the impressions this desert world made on his youthful psyche:

I…noticed the landscape radiating color & time, lines & shapes of centuries past opening my eyes & heart; I still seek this feeling.

This is a moving and perceptive thought well expressed. Cilla is an acute observer, and he plays back his observations and experiences in a layered, non-linear Carousel slide-show that clicks through one beguiling, grungy, inexplicable image after another. There is never the sense that Feast of Grease is a quick or easy read. Taken a few pages at a time, at random or in the order of presentation, these friezes, one-pagers and short narratives transport the reader outside their regularly scheduled existence. It’s a welcome transcendence: the words and images throughout this book may stick with you and serve as a fresh filter to experience the real world.

Comics without the burdensome rudder of narrative; images without an anchor or an obvious meaning: this is the menu of Feast of Grease, and its entrees (and sides) will stick to your ribs — and other parts of your brain and body. There’s mental nutrition in every bite!