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There’s something to be said for tradition. This past weekend, Archon 35 was held at the Gateway Center, Collinsville, Illinois’s mid-sized convention and conference complex. It’s been the home to Archon for many years, returning for 2011 after a brief hiatus in Westport Plaza. For whatever reason, Archon seems to work well at the Gateway, which is the epitome of the Midwestern convention center idyll, located in what’s a sort of super-sized parking lot, with myriad lots parcelled out between the conference hall, some small hotels and a variety of well-known chain restaurants. All are found just a minute’s drive from I-55.
What could be considered something of a run-of-the-mill, you-are-anywhere vibe is somehow modified for the better when you see a young man veering through parked cars in head-to-foot steampunk garb, or as a noticeably-shapely young woman does the same while wearing a skin-tight cat’s outfit, replete with furry tail. It’s at moments like this that you sense that you’re in for an afternoon of people-watching of the highest order, and it’s all thanks to Archon.
So it was last Friday afternoon, as I parachuted into the Gateway Center, collecting my press pass, sizing up the audience and crying a small tear upon the realization that I’d only be able to attend that afternoon’s and early evening’s sessions. Because Archon’s a full weekend of fun, with attendees taking in panels and workshops on topics as lively as “Larping 101,” “Sexual Perversion in Comics in the Late ‘40s and ‘50s” and “Hobos: The New Pirates?” Admittedly, these are some of the more eye-popping of the offerings, but there’re plenty that have a more utilitarian bent, from sessions on creating artwork with aluminum to others that talk you through the scriptwriting process of your comic-strip-turned-movie.
What’s amazing, even in walking through the vendor’s hall, is that Archon is there for fans of just about every type of pop-cultural niche in the already-broad worlds of science fiction and fantasy. One table sells crystals, the next traffics in ironic t-shirts. You’ve got book vendors peddling second-hand, dog-eared, but collectable softcovers and toy dealers putting out the greatest hits of your ‘70s childhood. Some dealers bring a certain panache to the proceedings, dressed to the nines as they deal corsets or broad swords. Other are more humble. For example, I passed a gentleman selling space music. I knew this as he would greet anyone’s eye contact by simply picking up a small homemade sign that advertised, yes, Space Music. You can’t get much more soft-sell than that, and yet he was definitely communicating the contents of his table. If you were there for space music, or even possessed a passing interest in space music, the guy with the Space Music sign was your guy.
Archon 35: Talking it Over with Dark Continents Publishing from Thomas Crone on Vimeo.
At another table, David Youngquist, the proprietor of Dark Continents Publishing (www.darkcontinents.com), sat with one of his authors, Sylvia Shults, who’s penned fantastical works such as “Price of Admission” and “Taming of the Werewolf.” They talked to me for the video accompanying this piece, and seemed very much open to chatting up anyone passing their well-stocked booth. In fact, as I walked by, they noticed my camera and simply invited me over. Their experience was a good one, they said, though still early in the weekend. And they knew that their audience can be found at a place like this; in fact, colleagues of theirs were working a similar event in Brighton the same weekend, giving a bit of trans-Atlantic spice to this Collinsville gathering.
As no doubt suggested throughout this piece, it’s the combination of people, products and approaches that make for an amazing walking experience at Archon. Within the same hour, you can poke your head into a panel entitled “Astronomy in Japan,” then wander into a darkened hall for the showing of obscure 16mm films, then run across a former student, visibly unknown to you as she’s wearing a pair of fake ears, a bowler hat and retina-changing, cat’s-eye contact lenses. Mind you, this encounter takes place just in front of the booth manned by two Storm Troopers. Which, ironically enough, were the same Storm Troopers that I ran into at the ToyMan Toy Show only a week prior. That’s a “wow” moment, indeed.
This might go to prove some larger point about St. Louis really being a big city disguised as a small town, the kind of place where you run into servers from one of your favorite restaurants, or a colleague from work, or a member of the Zombie Squad that you interviewed a few years back, all in the space of minutes. It might also mean that people have all kinds of different interests and the person you know at work as a mild-mannered accountant might spend a weekend, or two, each year embracing his inner Jedi or hidden steam punk, or her secret desire to personify a Japanese manga character or vixen-ish furry.
Acceptance of all life forms is the rule of the day at Archon. It’s a safe space to walk around in whatever the heck you want, even when you’re cloaked in the guise of middle-aged reporter-with-a-camera. Next year, I’ll likely sport the same gear, but I might just opt for a pith helmet up on my dome. You know, just for fun.
