María Medem thinks about colour a lot. This isn’t a speculative statement as much as it is a declaration based on work the Spanish artist has been putting out from her home in Seville for years now. It’s obvious in everything from her comic panels to posters designed for events, to illustrations for magazines, and more. Land of Mirrors (translated by Aleshia Jensen and Daniela Ortiz) marries that obsession with form and colour to a story that almost feels like a vehicle for her art if it weren’t so moving.
There are echoes here of French writer Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince, that best-selling tale of a young boy worried about his rose that has been abandoned on an asteroid. Medem’s protagonist Antonia is as isolated, but her home is an abandoned town with only dogs for company. She comes across a flower too, compelling her to consider difficult questions about love, loneliness, and mortality.
Antonia worries about her flower dying and sets upon a magical quest to save it. In having her do so, Medem becomes part of a long tradition in Spanish literature, exemplified by the work of poets like Antonio Machado (also from Seville) and Miguel de Unamuno, who raised similar questions about belonging and exile in work that brought the modernist and symbolist movements closer. She also becomes part of a line of artists that stretches back to Miguel de Cervantes who, with Don Quixote, embarked upon a search that had a profound influence on philosophers across Europe.
A curious thing about Land of Mirrors is how the minimalist text contrasts so vividly with art that can sometimes be overpowering. Medem is not afraid of bold colours, nor does she shy away from mixing them in strange and unusual ways, creating an overall effect of something almost dreamlike. This visceral approach is hinted at in her acknowledgements, where she thanks ‘every single person, animal, sound’ that she has stumbled upon while working on the book.
Sprinkled throughout the book are lyrics to flamenco songs — another hint at what Medem is aiming for, when one considers the four ingredients vital to that ancient Spanish art form: guitar, song, dance, and the elusive ‘duende’ or soul that is more felt than described. Land of Mirrors reaches for something indescribable time and again, its panels often forcing one to do a double-take and look again at some minor detail that has been hidden at first glance.
It’s not as if everything in the book makes sense. Antonia’s decisions aren’t always plausible, and there are clearly some allegorical elements about her journey whose meaning isn’t immediately obvious. One wonders if language has something to do with this, and if the lyrics in Spanish reveal what English stubbornly refuses to. What does come through loud and clear is Medem’s message, about the redemptive power of love, and the importance of finding meaning through companionship.
Interestingly, during an interview a few years ago, Medem revealed that both her parents were psychologists, adding that she always enjoyed movies and books that explored the human soul. She can certainly add her own work to that list, going forward.
María Medem (W/A), Aleshia Jensen & Daniela Ortiz (T) • Drawn & Quarterly, $29.95
Review by Lindsay Pereira
