Excerpts from “Grant Morrison in Conversation,”
March 28, 2003, Institute for Contemporary Arts

Paul Gravett:

Grant, I’d like to thank you to take the time to show up tonight to this little gathering.

Grant Morrison:

Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Paul.  Besides, it’s only three or four hours out of my life, so we’re only talking—what? Five issues, six issues?—of New X-Men.

Paul Gravett:

Yes, I had heard you’d been very productive as of late.

Grant Morrison:

Oh, yes.  I find with New X-Men, the more quickly I write them, the better they turn out.  I had gotten to the point where I was writing an issue a day, but that really wasn’t turning out satisfactorily.  Now, I’m producing an issue every forty-five minutes or so.

Paul Gravett:

An entire issue.  How can you do such a thing?

Grant Morrison:

Magic.  Literally.

Paul Gravett:

Yes, well, I’ve been meaning to ask about that, since you’ve made your stance on magic well-known.  What sort of magic are you talking about, exactly?

Grant Morrison:

Well, the term “magic” encompasses many different specialties and disciplines, and…

Paul Gravett:

No, I mean, when you say “I’m producing an issue of New X-Men every forty-five minutes because of magic,” what do you mean by magic, in that exact context?

Grant Morrison:

In that context?

Paul Gravett:

Yes.

Pause.

Grant Morrison:

Red Bull and crystal meth.

Paul Gravett:

Ah.

Grant Morrison:

They’re like eucharist, you see.

Paul Gravett:

Of course, of course.

Grant Morrison:

Their presence allows one to channel the deific…

Paul Gravett:

Say no more, I completely understand.

Now, your work plays at the surface of things, and frequently concerns the manipulation of such surfaces.  Identity is a construct in your work, yes?

Grant Morrison:

Yes, I’d say so.

Paul Gravett:

Don’t you feel this limits any attempt to create a work of any depth?  I would think it hard to examine the psychology of your characters if their selves are constructed.

Morrison drinks from a glass of water.  There is a long pause.

Grant Morrison:

I’m sorry, what was the question again?  I was communicating with a shiny fifth-dimensional construct.

Paul Gravett:

Really?  I thought you were drinking a glass of water.

Grant Morrison:

Well, on one level, yes, but…

Paul Gravett:

My question concerned how to create works of depth in work that consciously and continuously embraces the surfaces of things.

Grant Morrison:

Hmm.  Well, I think I find my depth, paradoxically, in the surface of things.  I like playing with the pure sound of word on word in my writing, or concerning myself with surface glamour.  But I believe, say, The Invisibles to be a work of great emotional depths.  You can read it as an action-filled philosophical wank book, or you can read it for King Mob's attempt to get over the loss of his girlfriend and the death of his cats by turning himself into a pop god with a gun.

Paul Gravett:

Hmm.  So, on one level, The Invisibles is about a man trying to get over the death of his cats.

Grant Morrison:

That’s right, yes.  About 60% of The Invisibles was autobiographical.

Paul Gravett:

Now, as I recall, don’t you appear in your last issue on Animal Man and discuss the death of one of your cats?

Grant Morrison:

Yes, in fact.

Paul Gravett:

I see.  And isn’t The Filth, on one level, about Greg Feely possibly losing his mind while trying to care for his dying cat?

Grant Morrison:

On one level, yes.

Paul Gravett:

Now, I forget.  Does a cat die in Flex Mentallo?

Grant Morrison:

No, no.  I don’t have to have a cat die in order to produce a good work, Paul.

Paul Gravett:

So it wasn’t written after a cat had died?

Grant Morrison:

Absolutely not.

Paul Gravett:

Loss of a girlfriend?

Pause.

Grant Morrison:

Well, yes, in fact.  I wrote Flex Mentallo after a bad break-up with a girlfriend.

Paul Gravett:

And Marvel Boy?

Grant Morrison:

Bad break-up with a girlfriend.

Paul Gravett:

Your Fantastic Four miniseries? Cat or girlfriend?

Grant Morrison:

Caring for a sick girlfriend.

Paul Gravett:

Did she die?

Grant Morrison:

No, she recovered.  That’s why it’s only four issues.

Paul Gravett:

Doom Patrol?

Grant Morrison:

A bad break-up.

Paul Gravett:

With a girlfriend?

Grant Morrison:

With a cat.  It was very painful.

Paul Gravett:

Now, this isn’t a magic thing, is it?  You’re not sacrificing your cats, or anything?

Grant Morrison:

No, no, not at all.  I love cats, Paul.

Paul Gravett:

As do I.  As do I.  I must say, I’m very curious as to your plans for the future in comics.  Do you have more magical acts in the works?

Grant Morrison:

Of course.  I’m actually making plans for my grandest scheme yet.

Paul Gravett:

What can you tell us about it?

Grant Morrison:

Ahem.  Well.  My plan is to turn the DC Universe into a sentient being.

Paul Gravett:

Errrr…

Grant Morrison:

You heard me correctly.

Paul Gravett:

I understand each of the individual words, but I’m not sure what they mean next to each other.

Grant Morrison:

It’s hard to explain…

Paul Gravett:

Because of the complexity?

Grant Morrison:

Because I’m coming onto the Acid and the hash twinkies.  But I’ll give it a shot.

You see, Paul, I think of the DC Universe as fulfilling many of the requirements of a living thing.  It grows, it changes over time, it reacts to its environment.  In fact, considering that the creations in the DC Universe have outlived many of their creators, you could say that the DC Universe is more alive than we are, something that will continue to exist long after you and I are dead.

Paul Gravett:

All right.

Grant Morrison:

Now, although it is alive, it isn’t what we would call conscious.  It growth and its actions are essentially reactive, like a plant, or an oyster, or John Byrne.

Paul Gravett:

I see.

Grant Morrison:

Unlike the oyster or John Byrne, this isn’t because the DC Universe lacks sufficient complexity.  Its level of complexity, as you might expect after sixty years of monthly development and refinement, is staggering.

What I plan to do is, much in the same way a crucial lightning bolt hit the primordial soup and started the chain reaction which created life as we know it, write a comic series that will bring the DC Universe to consciousness.  To wake up an entity that is largely dormant.  My belief is that this is very similar to the way our universe was created.  We existed largely as a fiction that became sufficiently complex, and then a final story gave us our independence and brought us to consciousness.

Paul Gravett:

Absolutely fascinating.

Grant Morrison:

Thank you.  This is the point where somebody’s supposed to jump up and yell “He’s absolutely mad!” and then a bunch of villagers chase me with burning torches to an abandoned windmill.

Paul Gravett:

Well, it’s still a little early for that, Grant.  Tell me, after you manage to turn the DC Universe into an individually cognizant being, what then?

Grant Morrison:

What then?

Paul Gravett:

Yes.  What do you plan to do with an living comic book universe

Grant Morrison:

I plan to have sex with it.

Pause.

Paul Gravett:

Umm…

Grant Morrison:

Don’t misunderstand.  I’m speaking metaphorically.  Sex is a primordial form of communication.  It is, at its most primal, an exchange of information.

Paul Gravett:

I see.  So when you say, you plan to have sex with the DC Universe…

Grant Morrison:

I mean it in a metaphorical way.

Paul Gravett:

Ah.  And how do you plan to do this?

Grant Morrison:

By taking it to dinner and a show, and giving it lots and lots of alcohol.

Paul Gravett:

Now, is that metaphorical alcohol, or…

Grant Morrison:

Then, when I drive the DC Universe home, I’ll say, “you’ve got something on your mouth,” and it’ll say, “where?” and then I’ll swoop in and lay a kiss on it, and say, in a very soft and tender voice, “there.”

Paul Gravett:

Yes, but…

Grant Morrison:

Then, after a little bit of kissing about, I’ll lightly brush my hands across the DC Universe’s nipples.  And if it gives any sort of pleased reaction—which I expect it will, because I think sixty years of life without any action will have made the DC Universe a randy little thing—then I’ll rub my hands back and forth across its nipples, exciting it.

Paul Gravett:

Are these actual nipples, or some sort of DC Nipples one-shot, or…

Grant Morrison:

And then later, I’ll have the DC Universe naked and in my bed, and I’ll put on this very special mix tape I’ve already made for the DC Universe.  A little bit of trip-hop, a little bit of house, but also this absolutely brilliant Sade song…

Paul Gravett:

Grant…

Grant Morrison:

And then, I’ll be rogering the DC Universe something fierce, and it’ll say, “Oooo, Grant, no comic book writer has ever made me feel this way,” and I’ll say, “It’s because I’m also a reasonably competent artist, and also I have a tongue stud,” and the DC Universe will start bucking involuntarily against me, and moaning, “Brave and The Bold me, Grant, Brave and the Bold me.”  And then I’ll reach into my bedstand and pull out the Talking Hulk Hands…

Paul Gravett:

Perhaps its time for some questions from the…

Grant Morrison:

And I’ll have the DC Universe down on all fours while this one Dr. Octagon song is playing, and I’ll be all, “You like that, don’t you, you wet little comic book universe?  You like some hot intra-company crossover action, don’t you?” And it’ll be all “Yes, oh God, yes,” and then I’ll rap on the wall three times and Mark Millar is going to come out of my closet with a video camera rolling and a Captain America suit on…

Paul Gravett:

Or perhaps torches?  Does anyone in the audience have any torches?

Grant Morrison:

And I’ll be all, “I bet Mark Waid never made you feel like this, did he?” and before the DC Universe can say anything, Millar and I will start our synchronized sexy Glagow boy band dance routine…it’s a very powerful Scottish tradition which involves a lot of spanking and gossiping about other comic book writers:  the intention to be to drive the DC Universe into such a wild state, it becomes incontinent with lust and screams, “I must team up with both of you!”  And then we have what could be described, on one level, as a comic book three-way orgy.

Pause.

Paul Gravett:

I see.  And do you expect this will result in the production of new, more mature, comic book stories, either from you, or Millar, or the deflowered DC Universe?

Grant Morrison:

Well, I guess I’d have to say that entirely depends, doesn’t it?

Morrison takes a long drink from his glass of water.

Grant Morrison:

If another one of my cats dies between now and then, I’d say the chances are rather good.