Sleipnir: The world of dreams against the tragedies of daily life
Opinión: Camilo Ortega/Hank T Cohen
When I first started reading Sleipnir, I was also listening to the song of the same name that accompanies it. It was inevitable to feel the western tone of rhythms within both story and song that kept speaking of ancient mythologies. It was as if both kept mixing the past with a modern sound.
In the beginning, both the comic and the song move with a similar rhythm, not within the realms of the unknown, but of the forgotten. They’re both a wonderful story of how magic tries, sometimes awkwardly, to mix itself with the modern world; Sometimes as a fantasy of decadence, other times as an anxiety of living coming from the creatures of myth. The song itself has the sound of nostalgia, as if coming from a bard telling a story of the fall of a world and of its reasons, a story of an ending. Voices come together to break the hopelessness, and the myth, now transformed, takes a step forward.
The gods and heroes are encountered in a story framed within the psychoanalysis, where the lines between mythological monsters and modern traumas are blurred. The stories don’t lay still in the past, but break themselves into fragments and become analogous to the minds of characters locked within worlds they cannot comprehend. I was lost in thought with the world of Sleipnir when I saw its images, which are of characters that live in the borders of worlds, incredibly well represented in a drawing style reminiscent of Sean Murphy, showing a world of dreams against a tragic backdrop of daily life. Dark and open spaces in the world of dreams contrast heavily with the luminosity of a hospital’s colors, making the reader consider the horror of both worlds.
Mythologies fracture themselves and come together again constantly, making us witnesses to a small part of what seems a very vast universe, of which I would think many more deliveries are in store for a story that’s just beginning.