I'm not sure how Leslie Stein makes her comics. The most logical assumption is that she cuts out pieces of colored construction paper, then collages said pieces together to form human figures. Face detail is added later by old-fashinoned hand drawing with ink. It's a wonderful technique, and a smart way to make color in a comic book both precise and raggedy. Regardless of what process Stein is using to get this effect, it's what you'll notice first about her comic Yeah It Is. Stein's color vision is so unique that it gives off a great sense of authority. No one is making a comic that looks quite like this one.

Even though the look of Yeah It Is is unusual, and thus potentially unsettling, the reader will feel comfortable in absorbing Stein's visual language. There's not one panel in Yeah It Is where your eye think "oh, I wish she'd drawn that differently," or "that looks a bit off." In terms of consistency, Yeah It Is gels flawlessly, which is quite something for a new cartoonist like Stein.

But Yeah It Is only gels when you look at each panel individually. As a comic, Stein's visual approach is hard to immerse yourself in. Yeah It Is is about two friends, so it's all about characters interacting with each other. Stein's figures don't visually interact.

Yes, each character on the page is obviously lovingly rendered. And there's a certain thrill to that. But each image seems to stand in its own world. Characters stand side by side, but you'd be hard pressed to tell if they were aware of each others presence if it weren't for the dialogue. If Stein's aim was to simply create a visually beautiful comic (and that's certainly not an uncommon or valueless venture these days), this question of characters interacting wouldn't be too much of a problem. But Yeah It Is becomes so concerned with its characters subtle emotional gestures and interactions that the inability of the characters to exist on the same page is devastating.

For instance, when Mack's (our main character) best friend leaves town and Mack goes to hang out with some second-tier friends, the reader can't tell whether these second-tiers are supposed to be condescending, indifferent or happy-in-a-bittersweet-way at Mack's arrival. The dialogue suggests all of these possibilities, but the facial expressions of the characters don't guide us in any helpful direction.

Sometimes (well, a lot of the time), comic characters need to "act." If facial expressions and physical gestures fall short (or are hard to decipher), things can get confusing for the reader. Stein's work is gorgeous and her dialogue is funny. She simply needs her characters to loosen up (not in terms of rendering... their facial expressions need to loosen. Stein's style is, otherwise, loose enough) so that her art and solid writing can actually work together. It's often said that the drawing in comics is the writing. Some cartoonists can achieve the conception of this idea naturally, and some do great illusion work to pull it off. Stein should take a cue from this, because Yeah It Is is not pulling off that illusion.

The Xeric foundation made a good choice funding this comic. Stein is so inventive and talented that her work is head and shoulders above most new cartoonists, even when it's not working like it should. That's the thing: you know Yeah It Is could be a minor masterpiece, and it's frustrating when it's not.

(Yeah It Is costs $5.99; email Leslie at lams1406@aol.com for ordering information.)

Barry Rodgers is using so few lines in his cartooning that one misplaced dash can throw the whole thing off. When he's drawing a cartoony looking cliff in the first panel of Taken #1, Rodgers looks like he's in full control. Ditto for panels two and three, when a little man walks out onto the cliff. But in panel four, when the man throws a mysterious box off the cliff, Rodgers draws the box so carelessly that the aesthetic he's drawn us into falls apart. There are so few lines on a Rodgers page that when one is dashed off, it's glaringly dashed off. What's more, the aim of Rodgers' cartooning seems to be about creating a sparse but visually pleasing world. His comics are mostly wordless and he carefully eliminates any cross hatching or shading. what's more, his stories seem almost incidental. The plot points in Taken seem to be vehicles to illustrate his sparse, pleasing aesthetic.

What becomes enjoyable in Rodgers work is not just how few lines there are, but how thought-out this "few lines" idea is employed. Rodgers' line is like an animator's line: thick and expressive. There's a roundness here that's really charming.

But the roundness (and the way Rodgers' barren backgrounds cleanse your eye) is all so quiet and small that when Rodgers takes his eye off the page and draws a sloppy box, you feel the sloppiness like a punch in the gut (or the eye). This kind of cartooning requires a zen-like focus (i.e. no focus; line drawing so natural that every thing on the page seems correct and impossible to change). Rodgers loses that approach with the box in panel four.

This is risky cartooning, because when you work with so little, you're a bit more naked -- it's no surprise that when most of us pile on the cross-hatching when we start cartooning. Rodgers handles the risk pretty well 90% of the time, and I really think he's worth a look. Cartooning like this (I guess we're still calling it "minimalism: or "minimalist cartooning") could use more roundness. I think that's what's valuable about Rodgers: roundness.

(No price listed, but write to Barry at: bigbeardcomics@hotmail.com.)

Austin English is a writer living in New York City.