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Abstract
This article focuses on panel arrangements and page layouts of early comics published
in Belgium in the five decades before the start of Tintin in 1929. It investigates the
degree of standardisation in this pivotal period, in which the old system of graphic
narratives with captions evolved to comics with balloons. The years between 1880 and
1929 boasted a variety of publication formats (broadsheets, illustrated magazines for
adults and for children, comic strips, artists’ books), within which one can see both
similar and different conventions at work.
1 In a digital environment other ordering has become possible, for instance by clicking on an
individual panel another can open, or one can zoom in on a panel and discover another scene
within this scene. Thus a webcomic can offer new navigating and reading possibilities that were
impossible before the digital revolution (with the possible exception of a system of paper flaps).
The author wishes to thank the various institutions that provided help for this research: the
Research Council of Saint-Lukas University College of Art and Design, Brussels, for providing
financial support; the Het Huis van Alijn Museum; the Écomusée de l’Imagerie d’Epinal; the
Stadsbibliotheek library in Antwerpen; the Royal Library of Belgium; the libraries of the Univer-
sities of Ghent and Leuven; comics specialists Michel Kempeneers and Steve Holland; collector
Jozef Peeters, who donated the first issue of Het Lacherke [‘Mockery’].
2 I have drawn upon the film scholars David Bordwell, Janet Staiger and Kristin Thompson, The
Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style & Mode of Production to 1960 (London: Routledge, 1988),
4–7.
3 See Pascal Lefèvre, ‘The Importance of Being Published: A Comparative Study of Comics
Formats’, Comics & Culture: Analytical and Theoretical Approaches to Comics, eds. Anne Magnussen
and Hans-Christian Christiansen (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2000), 91–105.
4 The theoretical framework for this section is based on chapter IV of my dissertation: Pascal
Lefèvre, Willy Vandersteens Suske en Wiske in de Krant (1945–1971): Een Theoretisch Kader voor
een Vormelijke Analyse van Strips [‘Willy Vandersteen’s Spike and Suzy in the Dailies (1945–1971):
A Theoretical Framework for the Formal Analysis of Comics’], Doctorate Sociale Wetenschappen,
Katholieke Universiteit Leuven, 2003, 99–112.
5 But even when such is the case, seldom will the main elements of a scene be placed close to the
border of a page.
6 This was, of course, not always the case: the Romans wrote their text without spaces between the
words; consequently such texts were already, on a visual level, more difficult to read.
Margins and panel frames are, of course, not the only parameters that define
page composition. Another crucial aspect is the relative proportion of the
various panels (see Table 2), for which there are two base permutations: firstly,
all the panels are of equal shape and dimension (e.g., a strip of Peanuts), or,
alternatively, they can be of variable proportions and shape (but even this varia-
bility can have some rigorous underlying system, as in the case of Watchmen).7
The content of a scene can indeed incite the artist to use a particular shape or
dimension: a high tower will by nature call for a high, vertical frame; a coast-
line, by contrast, will demand a large, extended panoramic frame.8 However,
the dominant frame model in Western art is a rectangle whose base is greater
than its height, but various other shapes can be used (triangle, circle, oval…).
Deviation from the rectangular model can thus be motivated by the content,
but also by some aesthetic principle.9 Furthermore, the differences in dimen-
7 For an analysis of the Watchmen layouts, see Jan Baetens and Pascal Lefèvre, Pour une lecture
moderne de la bande dessinée [‘For a Modern Reading of Bande dessinée’] (Brussels: Centre Belge de
la Bande Dessinée, 1993), 60.
8 Some theorists (e.g., Gustav Theodor Fechner, ‘Various Attempts to Establish a Basic Form of
Beauty: Experimental Aesthetics, Golden Section, and Square’, Empirical Studies of the Arts 15.2
(1997), 115–130) have nevertheless stated that there exists an ideal proportion format, the so-called
Golden Ratio: humankind would have a natural predisposition for the divine proportion 34/21.
Though the Golden Ratio was for centuries the norm, empirical research has revoked the claims
of the old myth of the Golden Ratio. See Frans Boselie, ‘The Golden Section has no Special
Aesthetic Attractivity!’, Empirical Studies of the Arts 10.2 (1992), 1–18; Frans Boselie, ‘The Golden
Section and the Shape of Objects’, Empirical Studies of the Arts 15.2 (1997), 131–141; John Benjafield
and Keith McFarlane, ‘Preference for Proportions as a Function of Context’, Empirical Studies
of the Arts 15.2 (1997), 143–151; Holger Höge, ‘The Golden Section Hypothesis: Its Last Funeral’,
Empirical Studies of the Arts, 15.2 (1997), 233–255.
9 In Des-agréments d’un Voyage d’Agrément [‘Dis-pleasures of a Pleasure Trip’] (1851), Gustave Doré
uses 17 circles to suggest the view through a telescope. On plate 23 of L’Homme de Pskov (1977),
Guido Crepax uses only triangles, with the effect that the panels seem to cut into each other. This
Table 2: Differences in formats (in cm2) between the largest and the smallest
panel of a comic.
Smallest Largest
Schulz, Peanuts One One All panels have the same
(comic strips) format format proportion.
Hermann, Jeremiah, 11 cm2 317 cm2 The largest is 27 times bigger
Mercenaires (1997) than the smallest.
Frank Miller, 300 1.6 cm2 796.8 cm2 The largest panel is almost 500
(1998) times bigger than the smallest.
A frame can serve various functions.10 Firstly, it is a visual device that figura-
tively and literally brings closure to the panel and gives it a particular shape.
The reader understands that the border has a different status from the lines
used for rendering figures in the scene: only in very specific cases can the
border become part of the diegesis (e.g., characters standing on it as a floor or
leaning against it as a wall). A rectangular shape facilitates ranging the panels
in tiers. Except for split panels, the frame generally singles out every scene as
having an individual identity. A frame signals that there is something to see
or to read. The succession of frames can deliver a particular visual rhythm.
Finally, as noted above, the form of a frame can suggest symbolic, rhetoric or
expressive ideas and associations.11
On a higher level than the individual panel, the total page layout can also
serve various functions: suggesting a particular navigation, giving a rhythm
to a page (e.g., by repeating the same layout), accentuating some scenes by
isolating a panel (e.g., putting only one panel on a page), or decorating the page
(e.g., in shojo manga). Moreover, in a single comic various types of layouts can
be combined, but every break from a dominant rule will attract attention and
suggest that there is something special about these panels or scenes.
There already exists an extensive literature on page compositions in comics,
but the interplay between an empty page layout and scenes in the panels remains
a lternate framing is motivated by the theme of the scene: someone is cut down by a sword, thus
the sharpness of the panels can be associated with the sharpness of the sword. See Pascal Lefèvre,
‘Het Kader in de Strip’ [‘The Frame in Comics’] Communicatie 16 (1986), 16–21.
10 Jacques Aumont, L’Image (Paris: Nathan, 1990), 109–111; Thierry Groensteen, Système de la bande
dessinée [‘The System of Comics’] (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1999), 49–68.
11 A scene with explosions can be placed in exploding frames, as in Au Dolle Mol (Brussels: Michel
Deligne, 1982) by Jacques Santi and Jan Bucquoy. The border can be decorated as Cosey did for
part of his Jonathan series (Brussels: Lombard, since 1977).
arranged in the traditional Western reading direction (from left to right, tier
after tier) over the double spread, the other story is organised in a completely
different way: it starts at the bottom on the right part, works its way up verti-
cally, then jumps back to the bottom of the first part and goes up again. This
was not just a clever experiment, it was equally a self-representational system
of expression via a visual and symbolic circle: the end of the Passion story –
the resurrected Jesus in Heaven – is near the beginning of the other storyline,
starting with the immaculate conception of the Virgin Mary on earth.
This freedom of sequential organisation would nevertheless become more
restrained by the early twentieth century, when the dominant organisation in
America and Europe would be the usual reading direction of texts, from left
to right, line after line.17 Nevertheless, artists could still experiment with their
page compositions. How this transformation took place can be recognised in
the evolution of published visual sequences in Belgium between 1880 and
1929.
17 In the late 1990s a new navigating system became fashionable in translated manga editions,
whereby readers in Europe and America readily accepted the Japanese direction of reading a
comic, namely from right to left.
18 For instance, a reworked version of Mickey Mouse in Flemish dailies, in which the balloons were
erased and replaced by texts under the panels. Tintin was only given daily publication in the Fran-
cophone newspaper Le Soir from 1941 on.
19 I do not take into account illustrated books where the visual part remains subordinated to the text.
20 Nicole Garnier-Pelle and Maxime Préaud, L’Imagerie populaire française 2: Images d’Épinal gravées
sur bois [‘French Popular Imagery 2: Woodblock Images d’Épinal’] (Paris: Musée National des
Arts et Traditions Populaires/Bibliothèque nationale de France, 1991); Ulrike Eichler, Munchener
Bilderbogen [‘Popular Illustration from Munich’] (Munich: Historischen Verein von Oberbayern,
1974); Theodor Kohlmann, ‘Zur Geschichte des Bilderbogens’ [‘On the History of Popular Illu-
stration’], Die Grosse Welt in Kleinen Bildern: Berliner Bilderbogen aus zwei Jahrhunderten [‘The Big
Wide World in Tiny Pictures: Two Centuries of Popular Illustration from Berlin’] (Berlin: Stiftung
Stadtmuseum Berlin, 1999), 11–21.
21 Patricia Vansummeren, Kinderprenten van Brepols [‘Children’s Cartoons from Brepols’] (Turnhout:
Brepols, 1996).
22 Dessain’s artists included Galco, Mauryce Motet and Georges Omry. Gordinne published the
work of Louis-Christian Doës and Oscar Lamouche.
few standard formats. Since the French catalogues of Pinot (August 1876) and
Pellerin (July 1889) categorise the narrative prints (contes et histoires) into two
large series, those of 16 and those of 20 panels per page, there would appear to
have been a directive from publishers with which the artists had to comply. 23
In the May 1908 Pellerin catalogue an additional third series, Images en disposi-
tions diverses [‘Images in Various Dispositions’], is mentioned. It would seem,
therefore, that in the 1870s and 1880s the 20- or 16-panel page was obligatory
for narrative prints, but by the turn of the century artists no longer had to
comply with these former layouts and could consider freer compositions.
The same was true for the Belgian publishers of broadsheets. The dominant
layouts in the late-nineteenth century Brepols prints are 5 × 4, 4 × 4, and 4 ×
3. By the twentieth century some of these older systems are still in use, but by
then most broadsheets offer panels of variable width, although they still respect
the three or four tiers convention, which will continue on into the modern
balloon comics of the twentieth century.24 Gordinne, one of several publishers
in Liège, also used both dominant schemes (the 4 × 4 and the 4 × 3 grid) and
the variable system (though still respecting the three- or four-tier layout).
In the early twentieth century, Belgian artists also found more freedom in
the composition of their layouts, one of the most remarkable artists in this
respect being Marcel Jaspar (1886–1952), a painter from Liège. In the years
after World War I his page designs were often inspired by the theme of the
story: a story set in the Middle Ages was placed amidst panels with romanesque
(Aimery van Narbonne [‘Aimery of Narbonne’], Fig. 2), or gothic arches.25 Almost
every title had its own special page composition, sometimes with small decora-
tive elements, but these could also be more demonstrative. Sometimes Jaspar
added loose elements between the panels, as in Koken moet kosten [‘Cooking
Should Be Expensive’] (Fig. 3), but which were in one way or another related to
the diegesis of the story told in the ‘normal’ panels.
Jaspar mostly respected the symmetry of the pages. In Godfried van Bouillon
[‘Godfrey of Bouillon’] (Fig. 4) colour plays an even greater role, with the rosy
shades of the panels in the middle accentuating the shape of the cross they
form together. Moreover, the big cross shape is repeated twice at the bottom left
and right. The usual reading direction is nevertheless respected. Jasper offers
23 The composition of five tiers made of four panels each has, in fact, an ages-long tradition: see for
instance David Kunzle, The Early Comic Strip: Narrative Strips and Picture Stories in the European
Broadsheet from c. 1450 to 1825 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973).
24 In Belgian comics the four-tier system was the dominant layout until the 1970s, when the three-
tier system became popular in francophone comics; nevertheless most mainstream Flemish
comics continued with the four-tier system. Vandersteen’s Suske en Wiske started in 1945 as the
first popular Flemish daily strip in newspapers, with two tiers each day (until 1966, when it was
published as one long tier over the complete width of the page). All the other mainstream Flemish
comic strips went on to adopt this system.
25 These examples are drawn from the Haus van Alijn collection, which holds 33 prints by Jaspar
(seven for Brepols, 25 for Phobel).
Figure 2: Marcel Jaspar, Aimery van Narbonne [‘Aimery of Narbonne’] (38.5 × 27 cm,
Brussels: Phobel, c. 1923), courtesy of the Huis van Alijn, Ghent.
Figure 3: Marcel Jaspar, Koken moet kosten [‘Cooking Should Be Expensive’] (38.5 × 27
cm, Brussels: Phobel, c. 1923), courtesy of the Huis van Alijn, Ghent.
Figure 4: Marcel Jaspar, Godfried van Bouillon [‘Godfrey of Bouillon’] (38.5 × 27 cm,
Brussels: Phobel, c. 1923), courtesy of the Huis van Alijn, Ghent.
26 See for, instance, David Kunzle, The Early Comic Strip: The Nineteenth Century (Berkeley: Univer-
sity of California Press, 1990).
Figure 9: Charles van den Eycken, Le Chat et le papillon [‘The Cat and the Butterfly’], in
L’Illustration européenne (17 July, 1887), 652.
Figure 10: L’Incendie des docks-entrepôts d’Anvers [‘Fire in the Warehouses at the Docks of
Antwerp’], in L’Illustration européenne (16 June, 1901), 372.
27 Other titles credited but drawn upon less frequently are Tid Bits, Figaro, Punch, Harper’s Weekly,
Golden Penny and (Frank) Leslie’s Weekly.
Figure 11: Frank Ladendorf, Les Espiègleries de Bébé: Comment le grand’papa faillit passer
pour un voleur [‘Baby’s Tricks: How Granddad Was Almost Taken for a Thief’], in
L’Illustration européenne (17 June, 1900), 380.
or panel borders, as in the case of a cat funny (Fig. 9), arguably inspired by
the silent cat comics of Steinlen in Le Chat noir. Meanwhile, series of related
photographs – for instance, a report on a fire (Fig. 10) – could be arranged in a
more traditional grid of three tiers.
Since Belgian illustrated magazines took most of their material from abroad,
there were cases when the original arrangement of the panels could not be
respected. An American comic of four panels that was originally published in
vertical order was rearranged in two columns of two panels each (Fig. 11). Since
the overall layout had to combine various cartoons and comics, with variable
dimensions and lengths, the arrangement could take surprising forms, as in
an L-shaped example (Fig. 12), in which we go from a vertical organisation to a
horizontal reading, although on the whole such hybrids were unusual.
Figure 12: L-shaped panel arrangement Une Couvée extraordinaire [‘An Extraordinary
Brood’], in two francophone Belgian illustrated weeklies: L’Illustration européenne (20
May, 1900), 316; and Le Patriote illustré (20 May, 1900), 236.
Figure 13: Double spread for the two middle pages of Flemish children’s magazine De
Kindervriend (number 223).
single page than did the illustrated weeklies for adults, because the comics
themselves were generally longer and their pages were smaller (Het Lacherke
30 × 22 cm) than those of the illustrated magazines for adults (generally 36 ×
26 cm). The arrangement used most was the traditional z-path, with only a
short comic (of four panels) placed in vertical order. These magazines offered
a further novelty, namely the use of the double spread in the two middle pages
(Fig. 13). Most comics not only used a frame border for their panels, but were
also surrounded by geometrical motifs.
34 I consider Nic et Nac (also in Le Soir) to be an illustrated picture story and not a comic. Moreover, I
do not include a comic strip drawn by a Flemish artist but published in the Netherlands: Georges
Van Raemdonck collaborated with the Dutch script writer A. M. de Jong for the series Bulletje en
Bonestaak [‘Belly-Boy and Beanstalk’] in the Dutch daily Het Volk [‘The People’] (1922–1937).
Figure 14: The very first tier of Fernand Wicheler’s comic strip series Le Dernier Film
[‘The Last Film’] in the francophone daily Le Soir (18 July, 1921).
day of the week. This series was humorous and often political: various gags
make fun of Germans, Bolshevists and also of Flemish nationalists. Wicheler
was, moreover, very critical of new trends, be they modern dances, feminists
or the behaviour of car drivers. Each of the 196 gags of F. Wicheler’s Le Dernier
Film had the same layout: each gag included seven drawings, with text in the
form of drawn celluloid, and was published over the complete width of the
page. It could be of various heights, but was generally placed at the bottom of
the page.
Contrary to the United States or England, where comic strips flourished in
newspapers from the start of the twentieth century, in Belgium it was not until
the 1930s that a daily strip was published in a newspaper. After Word War II,
and especially in Flemish dailies, comic strips blossomed and created a new,
long-standing tradition.
35 Johanna Drucker, The Century of Artists’ Books (New York: Granary Books, 1990).
36 David A. Beronä, Wordless Books: The Original Graphic Novel (New York: Abrams, 2008).
Conclusions
The years between 1880 and 1929 already boasted a variety of publication
formats, within which one can see both similar and different conventions
at work: one of the most fundamental conventions, which has continued up
to today, is the four- and three-tier grid – the uniform waffle-iron composi-
tion still thrives. Moreover, evolution can be noted within some publication
formats themselves: the popular print moved from strict grids to a consider-
ably freer page arrangement, as Belgian artists such as Marcel Jaspar, in the
wake of World War I, created inventive layouts, which nonetheless referred
back to the older tradition of the single-page decorated sequence of images to
be found in nineteenth-century illustrated magazines. Illustrated magazines
often combined more than one comic on a page, but these were generally short
gags, which could be published in various formats and without one dominant
system. The panel arrangement for comics in children’s magazines became
more defined, namely the traditional z-path, or the one vertical column. The
only comic strip before Tintin, Le Dernier Film, was to appear in the manner of
American dailies, with a single long strip over the complete page. Finally, the
smallest format of them all, the artists’ books of Masereel, usually printed a
single panel per page.
On the whole, one can also see an evolution in these comics towards a
greater degree of standardisation of panel arrangements. This did not change
much in European comics until the 1960s, when artists such as Guido Crépax
and Philippe Druillet broke with the dominant four- and three-tier grid.