Disorder: Comic Book Review
Erika Price’s Disorder is a hauntingly conceptual art piece of a comic book. Frenetic, monochromatic, and full of nods to H. R. Giger and Maurtis Escher; Disorder may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but damn it’s my whole tea pot. Tea set. Tea party? It’s gorgeous.
Disorder is a very clear journey, but one that will be different to everyone who reads it. Themes of dysmorphia, desperation, and intrusive thoughts weigh heavy throughout the series. The deliberate and poetic wording of the comic takes these thorny subjects and places them gently in a bed of unnerving, black line-work – from seas of bodies to creepy nuns. Disorder reads like a desperate diary; personal and profound, but never shying away from the less desirable and difficult parts of human nature. As we read on, we begin to feel the creeping, cloying claustrophobia of being stuck in a skin we are desperate to escape from.
I’ve got the spirit, but lose the feeling
While each panel of Disorder could be its own art print (or merch for a metal band, that would absolutely work, too) – the lettering and occasional lack thereof elevates the comic even further. A picture paints a thousand words, and the wordless issue and textless panels create a whole world that is immediately understandable and enveloping – words or not. Scratchy, uneven lettering is reminiscent of the kind you see scratched into walls in a horror film (think REDRUM) and adds an extra layer to the building unease throughout the series.
Disorder in destruction
Disorder is far from a comfortable read, but that is exactly how it should be. Beautiful in a morbid, macabre way, this comic is a Gothic delight. You’ll feel anxious, you’ll feel stressed, you’ll feel buried alive – but you’ll not feel alone. Every so often, a phrase will jump off the page and offer you solace from it. Price has created a complex and intricate piece of work that could proudly adorn any wall or coffee table – just be careful which guest pick it up.