The Artist Who Helped Bring Trans Visibility to Comic Books

This year Art Basel Paris will unveil Premise, a new section of exhibitions that seeks to be more inclusive in the type of art that is typically showcased at art fairs.

“We all understand the art canon as being something very rigid and whose definitions may seem to be impermeable,” said Clément Delépine, the director of Art Basel Paris. Premise, he said, was a chance to focus on “art forms that were overlooked or underappreciated.”

A case in point is the work of the author, painter and cartoonist Nazario Luque Vera, 80, whose work on Anarcoma, a homoerotic comic that he drew and wrote from 1978 to 1986, will be featured in a solo booth presented by the Barcelona-based gallery Bombon Projects at Art Basel Paris. Anarcoma is about a transgender detective trying to find a machine that can control sexual desire. Its drawings are explicit and feature L.G.B.T.Q. characters and themes that were not normally seen in comics, let alone in Spain, which had just emerged from dictatorial rule. Spotlighting Vera’s work, Delépine said, was a chance to recontextualize comics as a true form of art.

Anarcoma first appeared in Rampa, a Spanish magazine dedicated to erotica. In 1979, after three issues, it became a regular feature in El Víbora, a popular counterculture magazine. Making the comic for a general, not specifically homosexual audience — even one with an underground vibe — was a point of pride for Vera, who said he wanted to help “normalize homosexuality.”

In a video interview, Vera discussed his work and his upcoming Art Basel Paris exhibition. The interview, which was conducted in Spanish, has been translated, edited and condensed.

How did you feel about the opportunity to show your work at Art Basel Paris?

It was a surprise because I had participated a few times in ARCO Madrid, not as a comic book artist but as a painter. To participate in Art Basel as a comic book artist, it is quite an honor.

What do you focus on these days?

There was a moment when I stopped drawing comics and dedicated myself to painting watercolors. Then I stopped painting and started writing. I have written all my life. I have four published books and next year I have an autobiography coming out from Anagrama publishing house in Madrid. For me, writing is easier and I like it more than painting.

What was your first exposure to comics?

There was a United States military base in Seville. One of the workers there read Mad Magazine. I found one. I didn’t know English, but I loved that type of drawing. I started to draw in that style. Later I discovered the comics of [S.] Clay Wilson, [Robert] Crumb and [Daniel] Shelton.

Was your family supportive of your art?

My father was a field worker. I was a teacher. To leave my job, to leave Barcelona and to devote my life to drawing comics in a commune, he did not like it.

Was it in Barcelona where you first felt part of a gay community?

I have a book called “Sevilla and the Little House of the Piranhas” about the beginnings of my engagement with the gay community in Seville and Barcelona. The community in Barcelona was bigger because it is a bigger city. At the commune I lived in, I was the only one who was gay, but I was respected and we all lived together peacefully.

What was the inspiration for Anarcoma?

I was educated in a school of priests. I had problems with religion and my first comics were a lot about denouncing religious education and the repression of homosexuals by society, by family and by religion. By the ’80s I decided I had to express my homosexuality in a more playful way, and that’s when I created Anarcoma.

How did you first perceive the character?

I had originally thought of a masculine detective, but there were already a lot of male detectives. And women had characters like Barbarella and Modesty Blaise. Then I thought a transvestite would be perfect in the role of the detective to explore the underground of Barcelona, a little like “The Thief’s Journal,” by Jean Genet. This was Barcelona before the city hosted the 1992 Summer Olympics, when a lot of the underground gay clubs and discos closed.

How was the story embraced?

Anarcoma is a fun story, but the most important thing to emphasize is that it was published in El Víbora, a magazine for heterosexuals. Anarcoma is a homosexual story, but everyone in Spain bought this magazine. People both straight and gay liked the magazine. It sold very well. This for me was a point of pride. I didn’t want to draw a story just for gay people. I preferred a magazine for heterosexuals because it would do more to normalize homosexuality.

Were there ever any problems with the sex depicted in the comic?

In the United States, the English version was prohibited from being sold in regular bookstores. It had to be sold in sex shops and wrapped in plastic. There were also problems in Germany, where I was sued because of the explicit material. But in most other places, there were no problems.

Did you face any editorial restrictions?

I had carte blanche to do what I wanted to do. The only restriction was the number of pages I had each time.

Was there a lot of feedback from readers?

There are many homosexuals who have thanked me because they lived in provinces where homosexual life was not easy. They read Anarcoma in El Víbora and it was liberating for them to see that homosexuality could be portrayed so openly. This for me is very satisfying. I have never hidden my sexuality. This led to recognition: I received [from Spain] the Gold Medal of Merit in Fine Arts [in 2020] and I was cited by the Ministry of Equality [in 2023] for my work in normalizing homosexuality.

Did your father ever realize how accomplished you became?

Underground comics were synonymous with counterculture. My father read in the press that they talked about me as “the great icon of the counterculture.” This bothered him because he said that he wasted a lot of his money to give me culture. The fact that I was considered an icon of the counterculture was really offensive to him. My mother was proud of me.