Centre Belge de la Bande Dessinée Rue des Sables 20 1000 Bruxelles +32 (0)2 / 219.19.80 http://www.cbbd.be |
It’s always seemed to me that European comics have a more tangible “feel” to them, in comparison with American comics. Not that it’s any surprise—after all, here comics are called the Ninth Art, lauded and studied in its own right. In Brussels, comic shops abound with gorgeous graphics and visceral images, not as something for “nerds” but as something to be marveled at for its artistry.
Well, I have to admit I’m a little biased, myself. . . .
Nevertheless, it goes without saying that the Centre Belge de la Bande Dessinée—Brussels’s very own Comic Strip Art Museum—was a definite must-see for Tonje and I when we invaded the city last week. Stepping in, we were greeted by a red-and-white rocket from Hergé’s Tintin: Destination Moon, while a five-foot-tall Asterix model beamed from inside a glass case.
Cast of Hergé’s popular Belgian
comic, Tintin |
Having walked in circles prior to our arrival, Tonje and I collapsed inside the museum’s library to rest our poor feet, but also to pore over the collection of Franco-Belgian comics lining its shelves. Like the kids we used to be (and still are at heart), we plunked ourselves down on the floor, propped outselves up on the provided cushions, and read. There was only a sprinkling of comics translated into English, but I managed to make my way through with my spare amount of French. But then again, this is comics—some things are universal in any language.
After half an hour of reading and resting feet, we headed to finally see the rest of the place. CéBéBéDé, as some call the museum, was designed by Victor Horta, Belgium’s renowned Art Nouveau architect. The tour begins on the first floor (or what Americans call the second), where you buy your ticket at the counter and go behind the wall to enter. The person behind the counter may helpfully offer you a binder-sized English translation of all the placards in the museum—I wouldn’t recommend it. I personally found it a bit hefty and unneeded in the end, as some things, as said before, are universal. Pictures are worth a thousand words, as the saying goes, and a few of the placards had English on them anyway.
The first floor takes you through the artist’s process of creating comics, from the penciling to the overlaying with a piece of transparency, to the inking and to the four levels of color when the pages went in for printing. One area contained what must have been over a hundred pages of comic line-art. I’ve always been fascinated in seeing the ways other artists bring their art to life, and I found myself often gazing closely at each page, my nose just an inch and a half away as I examined the brush strokes. I thought it was interesting how layered the entire process was, and how it came together just right.
Three more floors bring you through the evolution of comics, whether from Belgium or from other countries. The primary focus, however, was on European comics. Some displays are divvyed up according to when they were made, and the impact they had at the time. Some are centered on their popular characters, such as Tintin, Spirou, and Lucky Louke. Others are grouped by subject matter, such as socio-history trends and erotic comics. All were illuminated in their best with natural lighting, thanks to the glass ceiling and windows.
If you are even in Brussels, whether you are an artist, traveling with family, or even merely curious, you must definitely mark the Centre Belge de la Bande Dessinée as one of your must-sees. I know it was one of the main highlights of my trip, and it will certainly charm the pants off you too.
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