I'm been meaning to blog more about James Nadiger, and how he has become the meanest young man in all of Canada, but yesterday I got sidelined by the news that comic book artist Mike Wieringo died on Sunday of a heart attack at age 44.
I didn't know him much. We talked a couple times when I was an editor, but I never worked with him, and I'm pretty sure we never interacted face to face. I loved his stuff, it was clean, and fun and accessible, the sort of work you look at and it makes you feel good about comics, and you could hand Mike's work to somebody who didn't read comics and they would understand its appeal. I particularly liked Wieringo's stuff on Fantastic Four with Mark Waid, and he did a very charming book for Image called Tellos. And Mike's stuff for DC was atypical, because it did not blow, like most of the rest of DC.
Anyway, my happiness and shock that a$$hole Karl Rove is leaving the White House was rapidly overtaken by deep sadness and shock somebody like Mike Wieringo could --snap!-- just like that be gone. I think everybody just assumed we had decades more of seeing his work, regularly, reliably. But no, it was not to be.
Very sad.
James Nadiger Week will be postponed for a while as a result. But I bet even a tough old bastard like James would approve.
RIP Mike Wieringo.
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