So-called “creative types” have been using their art to process loss since time immemorial, but seldom does it come across as raw, as unfettered, and yet as understated as it does in the pages of issue 27 of veteran cartoonist/illustrator Mike Taylor’s Late Era Clash. Between these two-color riso covers (interior pages also coming off a riso, but in stark black and white) is an unmediated primal scream delivered at whisper-quite volume in response to a silent and gaping void of nothingness, as large and as unfathomable as the universe itself.

Here’s the thing, though : it was all supposed to be something entirely different.

When Taylor started work on this ‘zine in 2015 (it’s just starting to get some distribution today, though) his idea was to throw the veil off his artistic process — and those early pages survive, complete with his ever-present, insistent questioning of his tools, both mental and physical, his wondering both of the point of it all and his ability to make it. Simple, stark, compelling illustrations and accompanying text guide the reader through interior thought processes at the same time as we’re presented with their results, every detail sparsely but eloquently expressed both visually and verbally. The project that might have been still is, then, in its own way — but its context changed radically when one of Taylor’s close friends committed suicide.

Does that mean he altered course completely? Well, yes and no — the premise of a “journey through the artist’s subconscious” continues, but the contents of that subconscious, as well as the imagery it necessarily creates, are entirely 180 degrees removed from what they may have been had tragedy not struck. And yet Taylor’s understated tone remains of a piece with what we’ve come to know — whether we’ve followed his work for years, or just a few pages. He’s shaken to his core, as one would expect, but the essential truth of how he chooses to present his creative output (as well as how he relates its genesis) seems, if anything, to have gained a sense of import, perhaps even of urgency, but not to have been subsumed under a tidal wave of grief. Rather, it’s being channeled though a place informed, but not derailed, by grief. It’s powerful, harrowing stuff that well and truly needs to be experienced to be understood.

What’s perhaps most extraordinary about this book is how it never becomes alienating to the reader, so open and unmediated is Taylor’s exposition of his process and, frankly, his mental state. Nothing seems over-labored, either in terms of text or illustration, and the fee-flowing precision with which all is expurgated herein is just about enough to take your breath away. There’s nothing extraneous on offer, artistically or emotionally, and every pen-stroke or brush line or word chosen is done with an emphasis on pure efficacy and nothing more — because work deeply personal doesn’t need more.

Anyone who’s in the midst of processing a profound loss themselves will doubtless get a lot from Late Era Clash #27, but it’s a privileged look within for anyone interested in being able to relate to a grieving mind and heart. Self-published by Taylor through the auspices of Pegacorn Press, it’s available for the criminally low price of $4.00 from John Porcellino’s Spit And A Half Distro site, which is precisely where you should be heading over to right now : http://www.spitandahalf.com/product/late-era-clash-27-by-mike-taylor/