Introduction

The interplay of images and text, alongside the blending of fact and fiction as well as chronology and fragmentation, opens up countless avenues for creative assemblage in graphic life narratives. While biofictional strategies are not exclusive to comics, the medium’s formal properties — its simultaneity of text and image, its fragmented layouts, and its graphic mark-making — make it particularly suited to self-reflexive forms of life writing as scholarship on autobiographical comics has shown. Comics do not simply represent experience, they embody it across multiple semiotic levels, inviting both immersive identification and critical distance. Some of the premises developed in theory on comic autobiography will also be outlined in the following essay, where they inform the analysis of biofictional modes in graphic narrative.

The following discussion will take a closer look at the genre of artist biofiction in comics. Despite the genre’s growing popularity, biofiction in comics has received relatively little academic attention so far (Juko and Pedri 2023). There is even less secondary literature available on the subcategory of artist biofiction.¹ That is remarkable because comics focusing on artists have become increasingly popular. In the last twenty years, works mostly labeled as graphic novels have been dedicated to almost every canonical artist — primarily male and of European descent.² Notable examples include sequential art on Chagall, Dalí, Gauguin, Grosz, Hokusai, Kahlo, Klee, Modigliani, Munch, Pascin, Picasso, Rembrandt, Rivera, Schiele, van Gogh, van Eyck, and Warhol. Most comic artists who engage with these canonical figures also have European origins;³ however, in terms of gender, this group is somewhat more diverse. In recent years, female artists and less traditional arts have also gained more attention, as evidenced by comics about Leonora Carrington, Georgia O’Keeffe, Yayoi Kusama, and Hilma af Klint, as well as Banksy, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and Jackson Pollock.

In his dissertation on graphic biographies, Tobias Yu-Kiener (2021) examines the 21st-century boom in biographical comics, showing that Institutions like the Louvre and the Rijksmuseum increasingly utilize these works to engage broader audiences. He identifies three distinct publication “booms”: the first boom in the 1940s in the USA, the second boom starting in 2000, and the Museum Boom from 2005 to 2019. This “second boom” produced over 200 graphic novels, predominantly from Europe, with France leading in production and significant contributions from Germany, Italy, and Spain. Yu-Kiener observes that unlike earlier graphic biographies, which often emphasized artists’ early lives and education, contemporary narratives tend to focus on the adult lives and contributions of artists to modern art scenes, especially in 19th- and 20th-century Paris. Thierry Groensteen (2015) categorizes biographical comics into three main approaches: first, those that explore an artist’s personal life or significant episodes; second, those that highlight the artistic environment and historical context; and third, those that investigate the creative process itself, examining the elusive nature of art. Each approach varies in prominence from comic to comic, reflecting the diverse ways artists’ lives are reimagined and retold within this medium. Groensteen focuses less on the didactic aspects and more on the dramaturgical potential of artist biographies, suggesting that figures like Kahlo, Van Gogh, and Dalí possess qualities that make them ideal subjects for comic representation: “the artist exists just as strongly as a character.” Steffen Kverneland, author of Munch, expresses a similar thought when he emphasizes in interviews and in the comic itself that artists tend to make perfect comic characters. According to him, an artist who sits in their studio and only paints all day does not have to adapt to their environment, so they become increasingly eccentric (Hummitzsch 2013).

Neither Yu-Kiener nor Groensteen differentiate between biography and biofiction in their explorations of artist life writing; they stick to the notion of biography. However, they emphasize the variety of approaches and the sometimes significant fictional and autobiographical content, as seen in the works of artists like Joann Sfar and his comics on Pascin. Groensteen (2015) observes how biographical conventions are deconstructed in the case of Sfar’s Pascin: “The genre unravels […] in the hands of Joann Sfar. His Pascin is a wandering journey through the labyrinthine life of a dandy, rogue, and erotomaniac artist. A figure half-real, half-imagined, Pascin becomes a double through whom Sfar can explore his own obsessions: sex, Jewish identity, and drawing.”⁴ This observation is reminiscent of Michael Lackey’s discussions on biofiction, according to which “the author of biofiction fictionalizes a historical person’s life in order to project into existence his or her own vision of life and the world” (2022: 13). Like Lackey, who argues that biofiction should be defined in relation to fiction rather than biography (2016: 4), the German comic scholar Dietrich Grünewald advocates for a clear distinction between fact-based and fiction-based versions of life narratives without using the term biofiction. Grünewald (2024: 270) distinguishes between traditional biography and the biographical comic novel (“Comic-Roman”) with fictional content to argue that the “mystery of the artist” should be uncovered objectively, without mythologizing, insisting on factual accuracy — even though it is “legitim […] narrativ auszumalen, wie es hätte sein können” [legitimate to narratively illustrate how it could have been] (Grünewald 2024: 269). As Grünewald suggests, drawing sharp boundaries between biofiction’s factual and fictional components is undoubtedly challenging. Who decides when embellishment is legitimate? Where does biography end, and where does the biographical comic novel begin? It is obvious that most comics marketed under the label of artist biography contain significant fictional elements. This paper will examine how the concept of biofiction might contribute to a productive reading of these comics.

Structure

This paper is grounded in six selected examples from the Art Masters Series published by SelfMadeHero: Andy: A Factual Fairytale by Typex (2018), Gauguin: The Other World by Fabrizio Dori (2017), Magritte: This Is Not a biography by Campi & Zabus (2017), Munch by Steffen Kverneland (2016), Pablo (1–4) by Julie Birmant and Clément Oubrerie (2015), and Vincent by Barbara Stok (2014).⁵ The structure is as follows: the second section, following the introduction, will discuss the definition of biofiction, a concept that can be complex and varies by perspective, while using autofiction as a comparative framework. The third section will sketch how comics engage with (artist) life narratives, incorporating observations on autobiography and autofiction into the discussion, and ultimately leading to establishing key assumptions regarding artist biofiction in comics. The fourth section will delve into the titles and covers of some artists’ biographies, paving the way for a reception-oriented approach to biofiction, which will be elaborated upon in section five. Section six will utilize the selected examples to illustrate how a biofictional reading approach can differentiate between the various forms and degrees of biofiction. A short conclusion will reflect upon the productivity of biofictional readings.

Biofiction: Definitions and Debates

Frédérique Girauds’ (2011) observations on biography characterized by a “multidimensionality of the biographical genre, hesitating between mimetic representation and imagination, between fiction and historical reality, and between the desire to convey truth and the act of narration” (my translation) applies equally to biofiction, a subgenre laden with complexities. The term biofiction, as a compound of bios and fiction, suggests a straightforward definition; yet it lacks consensus, with diverse perspectives shaping its understanding and use. In Anglo-American and Romance-language biofiction studies, interpretations vary. In French-speaking academia, scholars often refer to Alain Buisine, who established the term biofiction for the French-speaking realm in his 1991 essay “Biofictions,” applying it to fictional biographies and biographical fiction. Alexandre Gefen cites Buisine’s approach in his definition for the “Atelier” section of Fabula Magazine in 2009:

Biofiction […] is any literary text whose narrative framework follows that of biography, defined a minima as a chronological account of the life of a particular individual. Or, to take this definition from the side of biography, any biographical narrative that clearly belongs to “literature,” in the dominant post-romantic sense of the word, i.e., all texts that not only make human life their subject, but measure their form against its duration, Whether they produce fully legendary lives […] or simply dreamed lives, […] in other words, whether the character whose becoming the writer traces has, or has no, proven historical reference (my translation).

In their introduction to Biofictions ou la vie mise en scène, editors Andreas Gelz and Christian Wehr emphasize that research on biofiction is as varied as the materials it examines, evident in the many competing terms: “biofiction, new biographical writings, imaginary biographies, biographical fictions, auto/biographies, alterbiographies, historias de vida, docuficciones biográficas, fiktionale Metabiographien, life writing” (2022: 7). The competing terms do not necessarily reflect varying proportions of fact and fiction but rather indicate different ways of categorizing and interpreting texts. While one reader may prioritize the biographical aspects, relegating fiction to a mere modifier, another reader might do the opposite, emphasizing fictional elements. While this observation may not appear revolutionary, framing biofiction as a reading approach enables exploring a broad spectrum of artist biographies and discerning their differences without being constrained by strict genre or media boundaries.

Converging on a single motivation behind biofictional writing and its scholarship is unnecessary for our aims. While some biofictions may focus on exploring a life and grappling with contingency, others might be oriented explicitly toward or in dialogue with biography to convey a sense of truth or verisimilitude about the pictured individual. Consequently, the concept of biofiction applied here is broad, akin to the notion of autofiction in the French-speaking world. However, it diverges from even more expansive terms like “life writing,” which Sidonie Smith and Julia Watson define as “a general term for writing that takes a life, one’s own or another’s, as its subject,” whether it be “biographical, novelistic, historical, or explicitly self-referential and therefore autobiographical” (Smith and Watson 2010: 4). The key distinction lies in biofiction’s emphasis on the fictional elements and the literary character in terms of aesthetics. As Lackey points out, biofiction is not about factual accuracy but about achieving “aesthetic truth” (2023: 3). According to him, “what readers can and should expect from the biofictional work is a real person whose life has been converted into a metaphor that can be used to illuminate vital realities in multiple times and places” (2023: 2). In this sense, biofiction reflects contemporary society, where the idea of a pure biography — if it ever existed — seems increasingly untenable. As Marco Mongelli observes, “the hypermediatization of individual lives, the televised confusion of reality and fiction, the permanent narrative of infotainment, all speak to us of a fragmented and schizophrenic time. Biofictions, in a way that is always different and specific, also tell us about this panorama, its continuities, and its mutations” (2019: 6). Finally, it is helpful to note the strong association between biofiction and autofiction, especially in French-speaking contexts, where autofiction is often implied alongside biofiction. Autofiction, widely popular in France since Serge Doubrovsky’s Fils in the 1970s, is now globally recognized. Like biofiction, it is hard to define. Authors like Persepolis’ author Marjane Satrapi use the term autofiction or other neologisms such as Lynda Barry’s “autobiofictionalography” (2002) to indicate works inspired by their lives but distinct from autobiography. The key to autofiction is that the author is both narrator and protagonist, though strict factual adherence is secondary.

Both autofiction and biofiction are rooted in poststructuralist ideas that challenge the fact-fiction divide and the concept of a unified self, suggesting fragmented or multiple selves. Roland Barthes’ idea of “biographemes” illustrates this fragmentation. Barthes suggests that biographers reduce complex lives into memorable fragments, which grants subjects a type of longevity. Repeated across formats, these elements contribute to an artist’s mythologization, reinforcing tropes like the misunderstood genius. Barthes argues that societies, including postmodern ones, need narratives and myths to organize experience. Imagining his own biography, Barthes writes, “Were I a writer, and dead, how I would love it if my life… were to reduce itself to a few details, a few preferences, a few inflections…to ‘biographemes’ whose mobility might go beyond any fate…” (1976: 9). This resonates with Lackey’s view that biographical novelists reshape a person’s life into a metaphor for broader truths (Lackey 2023: 2). Even if, for researchers like Grünewald, this contradicts the essence of biography, there is no biography without myths. It is even more evident that mythologization surfaces also in biofictions. Barthes’ idea of biographemes aligns with biofiction as a literary practice. The varied arrangement of biographemes within biofiction can both echo and subvert biographical conventions, allowing artists’ lives to be reinterpreted in highly individualized ways.⁶

Characteristics of (Artist) Life Writing and Drawing in Comics

For my biofictional reading, I selected six internationally acclaimed comics: Vincent, Pablo, Munch, Andy, Magritte, and Gauguin. These titles are recognizable by the artists’ names alone. As we will see, a title’s wording shapes its reception as biofiction, especially if it suggests fictional elements. Using a first or last name is also crucial: a first name offers intimacy, while a last name emphasizes the artist’s legendary status, creating distance. Barbara Stok, the author of Vincent, emphasizes her conscious choice to “never use his last name but only use Vincent [so] theoretically it could have been any artist.” This approach was intended as a tribute to the “many artists [who] work like Vincent [van Gogh] and don’t get much appreciation and are struggling” (Stok quoted in Yu-Kiener 2021: 192).

The success of these comics stems from both their artistic quality and the fame of their subjects. Biographical comics are popular not only because they feature marketable figures like Gauguin or Picasso but because they also leverage well-known anecdotes — like those surrounding Van Gogh or Warhol — that resonate even with non-specialists. Biographies offer legitimacy to comics, as the artist figures provide inherent dramatic potential. Additionally, biographical comics can be marketed as accessible introductions to these figures and are often seen as engaging, educational reads. Furthermore, the popularity of such works aligns with a broader cultural interest in authentic, documentary-like storytelling. This societal interest in “authenticity” appears across media, from biographical literature to reality-based entertainment. As Martha Kuhlman (2017: 113) observes, whereas autobiographies have been perhaps the most researched area in comics, biographies and biofiction remain less explored.⁷

The same hesitations skeptics might direct or have directed toward autobiographical comics can similarly apply to biographical comics. Thus, insights from research on autobiographical comics also offer relevant perspectives for biographical and fictional studies. Concerns around the subjective nature of images, caricatured depictions, and the medium’s historical origins in genres like adventure and humor, which may seem at odds with the factual accuracy associated with biographies, could just as readily be directed at biographical comics as at autobiographical ones. Comics rely heavily on dialogue and generally avoid extensive narrative exposition, which is challenging for telling life stories. Invented dialogue is paired with quotes from letters or diary entries, highlighting the constructed nature of these representations. Comics rarely depict their subjects in a photorealistic style, frequently incorporating imagined dialogues and subjective viewpoints, which may further blur the line between fact and fiction. All these objections have already been addressed in relation to autobiographical comics; the discussion can also be applied to biofictions.

Here are a few notable points: A key observation is that biographical and biofictional storytelling in comics lacks a standard format. Some authors employ panel arrangements to establish chronological order and highlight key life milestones, while others experiment with multiple narrative layers and timelines, often stretching the form’s boundaries. The visual nature of comics allows for diverse storytelling methods, from documentary-style backgrounds that evoke historical realism to stylized imagery conveying the emotional or psychological landscape of the subject. Autobiography theorists have examined the influence of an “authentic” style; for instance, Hillary Chute (2011: 112) emphasizes personal touches in lettering and drawing as authenticity markers that leave a “bodily mark” from the artist on the page. What Chute observes for autobiography specifically applies to graphic narrative more generally — something Philippe Marion had already theorized in Traces en cases (1993) through his concept of “graphiation”. Marion defines the drawn line as an index of subjectivity — a bodily trace inscribed in the image. His work demonstrates that graphic style in comics is never merely illustrative but constitutive of meaning. This visual signature functions as an index of the artist’s hand and self, embedding a personal rhythm and tone within the narrative flow, which gives most comics an autobiographical dimension. Far from being neutral or invisible, these traces invite readers into a more intimate engagement with the work. By foregrounding the materiality of line and gesture, Marion demonstrates how comics foster identification and immersion not only through story but also through the sensory immediacy of the drawn form, transforming visual style into a point of entry for affective and interpretive participation. This is also relevant in the context of biographical fiction, where, as Michael Lackey (2017) argues, the genre always negotiates the author’s own self-inscription. In this light, graphiation becomes a key site for aesthetic and ideological positioning, offering a visual parallel to the narrative shaping of a biographical subject. Jan Baetens extends Marion’s theory by showing how graphiation functions as a stylized, authorial gesture — ranging from expressive to conventionalized — and how the apparent spontaneity of the line can be, in fact, a constructed aesthetic effect (Baetens 2001; Baetens and Frey 2015).

In artist biofictions such as Munch or Andy, shifts in style across pages or chapters reinforce the subject’s evolving identity while simultaneously foregrounding the comic artist’s interpretive lens. In Andy, for instance, Typex draws on Pop Art aesthetics to echo Warhol’s visual world, while also inserting his own unmistakable style. In general, it is not necessarily the more realistically drawn works that are perceived as more authentic or truthful, as the case of Munch will further illustrate.

The balance between image and text varies considerably in biographical comics. Some rely heavily on visuals to convey settings, historical events, or internal states with minimal text — often in the form of imagined dialogues or aphoristic quotes. A notable advantage of this medium is its ability to communicate visually, often eliminating the need for lengthy descriptions, as Figure 1 illustrates: This scene from Pablo is set in Paris, specifically at the monumental gates of the Exposition Universelle, a world fair that was held in 1900. The illustration captures the vibrancy and grandeur of this historic event, with architectural details emphasizing the ornate style typical of the period. The setting suggests an atmosphere of awe and discovery, as the protagonist, a young Pablo Picasso, is depicted stepping into Paris for the first time. The background shows the grand entrance to the exposition, framed by intricate arches, colorful decor, and a bustling crowd of visitors. Flags and ornate details evoke the international and celebratory nature of the exposition, symbolizing a gateway to cultural exchange and artistic inspiration. The choice to convey information on the visual rather than the textual level is particularly impactful in artist biographies, as it allows for visual references to the artist’s work to be seamlessly woven into the narrative.

Figure 1

Birmant and Oubrerie. Pablo, p. 10. © SelfMadeHero, 2015.

Whether biofictional narratives adopt a conventional or experimental structure, the unique qualities of the comic medium encourage active reader participation. Readers engage with the multi-layered representations and timelines, interpreting meaning beyond a single authoritative narrative. This is especially true in artist biofiction, where readers are invited to decode visual references to famous works, weaving them into the broader narrative. This intertextual experience transforms many artist biofictions into “scriptable texts,” to use the term Barthes coined in S/Z (1970). As a relatively young medium for artist biographies, comics are less bound by the rigid conventions typical of life writing. This freedom allows creators to transcend the limitations of classical biography, blending imagination with biographical storytelling. Few comic authors focusing on biofictional portrayals would see themselves as biographers or historians. Instead, both the medium and the subject invite creative liberties that resonate with the imaginative possibilities of biofiction. Although biographical comics flourish, they have yet to establish the decades-old conventions typical of more traditional biography genres. This generic freedom allows comics to depict reality in more creative, less constrained ways. Because a playful approach to factual content is generally accepted in comics, these works are less vulnerable to factual criticism.

Titles and Covers as Windows into Biofictional Worlds

It is a common observation that the title and cover of a book provide initial insight into the work to be read. Nevertheless, it is worth stating here, as it is easy to overlook the obvious. The subject of this paper — examining the depiction of artists’ lives in comic form — requires a close look at the details on the cover and those behind the facade. This is not a biography is not only the title of this paper but also the subtitle of a 2016 work by the writer-illustrator duo Vincent Zabus and Thomas Campi, about the life of René Magritte (Figure 2). Another example from the corpus is Typex’s Andy: A Factual Fairytale, which reflects the life and work of Andy Warhol. A third example is Gauguin: The Other World (Figure 3) by Fabrizio Dori.

Figure 2

Campi and Zabus. Magritte: This is not a biography. © SelfMadeHero, 2017.

Figure 3

Dori and Fabrizio. Gauguin: The Other World. © SelfMadeHero, 2017.

In all three cases, (para)textual explanations provide an early clue as to what readers can expect when immersing themselves in the comics: there is no claim to factual accuracy — quite the opposite. The deliberate non-adherence to the biographical pact, as signaled on the cover, is integral and presented as a selling point for the works. Alongside their fictional elements, both titles indicate the playful nature of these works. “This is not a biography” directly references Magritte’s famous painting The Treachery of Images, which features the image of a pipe alongside the caption “Ceci n’est pas une pipe” (“This Is Not a pipe”). Just as Magritte did, his (anti-)biographers Zabus and Campi question the relationship between the object and its representation on inter- and metatextual levels. The title encourages readers to reflect on the blurred lines between reality and fiction, much like Magritte’s paintings, inviting them to engage with the constructed nature of the narrative. The cover image supports this interpretation. It references Magritte’s painting La Décalcomanie, but depicts a frontal view instead of the original’s rear view. The head is notably omitted, just as in the original. Additionally, the main character of the comic, an ordinary man named Charles Singulier, peers out from behind a curtain. The plot is appropriately absurd: by purchasing the signature headwear typical of Magritte, Singulier simultaneously buys himself the insurmountable task of unraveling the mystery of Magritte and making him tangible. The title and cover, grounded in Magritte’s art, forewarn readers that this endeavor is destined to fail. Singulier’s mission, as the plot suggests, is to render Magritte as an accessible artist.

In the second example, the subtitle “a factual fairytale” is particularly memorable — not just because of the alliteration but also due to the unusual, contradictory combination of supposedly dry facts and magical fairytales. The overlapping of the author’s name and book title through the possessive “Typex’s” clearly affirms the subjective utilization of the material, illuminating one (and just one) version of the Warhol myth. The title suggests that the work will feature a conversation between the subject and the portraitist, allowing both to maintain their identities. In the case of Gauguin, the subtitle also refers to a second, or ‘other,’ focus in addition to the portrait of the painter mirrored in the cover design. The depiction of Gauguin’s face clearly draws from his famous self-portraits; however, his gaze is directed to the ‘other’ side (the right instead of the left). This is undoubtedly no coincidence but a deliberate variation that signifies a shift in perspective, subtly highlighting the role of the visual biographer. In the background, floral and ornamental elements and masks evoke the imagery from Gauguin’s time in Tahiti and his spiritual quest. Yet, the ‘other world’ alluded to here encompasses more than just Tahiti, the place that inspired so much of Gauguin’s work; it also suggests the subconscious and the ‘beyond’ that he explores in his art — elements that will play a crucial and fictional role in the diegesis of this comic.

Other graphic biofiction titles are much more straightforward; they stand without subtitles. In most cases, they are simply and strikingly named after the famous protagonists at the center of the comic, thus giving them their (first or last) name. However, in this case, too, readers should not be fooled by the cover and expect a true-to-fact biography suited for immersive reading. What Lackey says about biofiction applies to the majority of biographical artist narratives in comics, which can thus be read as biofictions. He writes:

Historical fiction gives readers deterministic truths of how we came to be as we currently are, but biofiction transports readers into the world of agential possibilities so that they can create themselves into something unique, original, and new. That biofiction came into being to counter the determinism and even fatalism of the historical novel partially explains why agency is one of the primary features of the literary form. (Lackey 2022: 16)

As Lackey (2016) emphasizes, many biofictional texts explicitly distance themselves from the genre of biography. When they promote a biofictional reading, be it through paratexts like interviews or in the title itself as shown above, this can be understood as an invitation to readers to engage in the biofictional game.

(Meta)Biofiction in Comics / The Biofictional Pact

The inherent flexibility of comics as a medium, blending visual and textual storytelling, means that biographical comics naturally incorporate fictional elements. Following Lackey’s minimal definition of biofiction, which permits fictionalization in the portrayal of real lives, it becomes evident that most so-called biographical comics qualify as biofiction. However, within this broad category, a subgenre emerges that acknowledges and emphasizes the interplay between fact and fiction. This genre, which can be termed metabiofiction, openly explores the constructed nature of the narrative and often employs self-reflective techniques such as breaking the fourth wall or utilizing overtly metafictional devices. In doing so, it offers readers what might be called a biofictional pact. The term biofictional pact is not used here in strict analogy to Philippe Lejeune’s autobiographical pact, which entails a reciprocal identity claim between author, narrator, and protagonist. Rather, the biofictional pact marks a mode of address or reading contract, often triggered by titles, stylistic exaggeration, or metafictional narration. It invites the reader to actively acknowledge the constructedness of the narrative while engaging with its biographical cues. In comics, this is frequently conveyed visually — through stylized narration, paratexts, or self-reflexive framings.

In comics, this may involve metafictional elements and authorial interventions that break the fourth wall, inviting readers to engage actively with the narrative as a mediated, interpretive experience. While not unique to comics, the medium’s blend of verbal and visual modes intensifies the tension between constructedness and authenticity, shaping a readerly positioning that embraces the complex relationship between representation and reality. The contract is reinforced graphically through drawing style and visible traces of the author’s hand as mentioned above: Marion’s concept of “énonciation” or “performance graphique” describes this expressive visual layer as an enunciative instance in its own right (1993: 120f.). Building on Lejeune’s concept, but without assuming strict identity alignment among author, narrator, and protagonist, the biofictional pact positions readers as active participants piecing together visual and verbal “biographemes” to construct their own understanding. Paratextual cues often prompt this engagement by highlighting the narrative’s self-reflexivity. Thus, the biofictional pact in comics functions as a dual-layered framework, guiding readers to navigate the interplay between fictionality and referentiality within an authorially marked visual system.

One example from this corpus is Kverneland’s Munch (2013), in which the biofictional aspect is clear — not through the title, as seen in Andy and Magritte, but soon after opening the book. The search for acceptable ways to create biography in these postmodern times — without becoming kitschy or obscuring the underlying quotes through literary paraphrases — is negotiated within the diegesis. At the beginning of the comic, a prologue depicts Kverneland’s autobiographical avatar meeting his artist colleague Lars Fiske in 2005 to visit a Munch exhibition together (Kverneland 2013: 6). After enjoying a few drinks at the museum café, they proceed to the exhibition. Accompanying the visuals are quotes from August Strindberg’s How to Become a Connoisseur of Art in 60 Minutes, in which Strindberg mocks the self-importance of so-called art connoisseurs. This contrasts sharply with scenes where Kverneland and Fiske passionately discuss Munch’s artworks, personifying the very art critics Strindberg ridicules.

Their exchange continues after the exhibition; while drinking, the two characters become increasingly animated until Kverneland’s avatar finally announces his intention to create a comic about Munch that distinguishes itself from “those romanticizing inside-Munch’s-head biographies,” which Fiske describes as “nothing but pathological lies, soap operas, and masked copies of the sources.” Kverneland outlines his approach: “If I were going to make a Munch series, the manuscript would be a collage of pure quotes!” (Kverneland 2013: 7).

The prologue illustrates how the author’s self-insertion (deliberately portrayed in a caricatured style) provides a reading recommendation right from the start. The friendly authors are humorously exaggerated; their drunkenness serves as a tongue-in-cheek homage to the protagonist Munch, reflecting the boisterous drinking culture of his circle. The author transforms Munch into a comic figure, as well as himself and his friend Fiske, while asserting his intention to avoid conventional biographical clichés. Instead, he aims to tell an authentic story using the tools of comics and exaggeration. We will explore how this is achieved when looking at one extract in the following section.

Artist Biofiction from Pablo to Munch: Maintaining and Breaking the Fourth Wall

In practical terms, finding a comic marketed as a biography that lacks biofictional elements would likely be impossible. However, this in no way implies that biofictional comics are uniform; each employs distinct characteristics. Consequently, biofictional comics can initially be categorized into two groups: those that highlight their fictionality and constructed nature and those that do not.

The comics examined here meet a minimal definition of biofiction, as they narrate the life of a protagonist named after a real person, as indicated by their titles. What connects them all is their literary and artistic ambition, which is already signaled by the marketing as a graphic novel or the marketing as one title of a series called “Art Masters”. None of the works is merely advertised as “an introduction to the work of …”. However, the degree of biofictionality varies, and quantifying it can be challenging depending on the interpretation. Suppose biofiction is primarily viewed as a novel-like narrative with strong immersive potential (focusing on fiction). In that case, certain works may qualify differently compared to interpretations that emphasize the intertextual strategies and materiality involved in fictionalization (focusing on self-reflexivity). A comparison of the selected comics shows how each of them can be read as a biofiction, whereby different facets of the emerging genre are invoked. What does the term “fiction” in biofiction signify in the chosen comics? Does it imply: a) that the artist’s life is fictionalized but presented (more or less) realistically; b) that fantastical elements, such as characters from the artist’s paintings, inhabit the narrative; or c) that there is a metatextual and material reflection on the boundaries between fact and fiction, as well as the unique nature of the comic medium?

The Question of Fiction in (Meta)biofictions

Vincent and Pablo

Vincent and Pablo can be grouped together in Category A. Both portray certain phases of the lives of van Gogh and Picasso immersively, an effect largely created by their respective artistic styles. While Stok conveys van Gogh’s time in Arles with sparse words and a simplified style, Oubrerie presents a richly detailed and atmospheric vision of fin-de-siècle Paris.¹ Stok’s approach invites rapid reading, whereas Oubrerie and Birmant’s work encourages lingering; neither, at first glance, seems to challenge readers to consider the boundaries between fact and fiction. Instead, both works place readers directly in the scene: with Vincent, they leave Paris for Arles, while with Pablo, they enter Paris itself (see Figure 1). Through rather artificial dialogue between the brothers Theo and Vincent (see Figure 4), readers learn that Vincent intends to try his luck in Provence. Vincent, on the other hand, is a commissioned work with a clearly didactic tone. In Vincent, the simplicity of the illustrations corresponds to the artist’s psychological profile, which is relatively straightforward to decipher and does not require extensive effort from the reader. The author deliberately refrained from extensive biographical research, instead focusing solely on the correspondence between Vincent and Theo van Gogh. This allowed her to form her interpretation of the artist through this “dialogue” with him. Depending on the reader’s background (age, prior knowledge of van Gogh), the didactic and caricature-like style can be seen as an exploration of the medium itself and its often exaggerated characters. Compared to Pablo, Vincent is less geared toward an escapist reading (in a non-judgmental sense).

Figure 4

Stok. Vincent. © SelfMadeHero, 2014.

Pablo is more ornamental and traditionally literary. Its romanticized atmosphere vividly captures the spirit of the era, enriched with literary references throughout. The story is narrated through the guiding voice of Fernande, Picasso’s former muse. Before the protagonist even appears, a five-page prologue introduces Fernande, setting the stage for what follows. In voice-over, she recounts her memories: “Around 1900, life in Montmartre was marked by violence and madness.” She continues, “In this dirty slum, where a gang of ragged immigrants invented modern art… Picasso loved me and painted me.” Only some pages later does the young Pablo make his first appearance (see Figure 1), shown from behind as he gazes at the World’s Fair entrance, awestruck by the spectacular lights. Alongside his friend Carles Casagemas, the two young Spaniards embark on a journey through Paris and its vibrant art scene. Viewed from behind at the gate, Pablo appears small and insignificant, with his first (imagined) line — “Olà Mademoiselle” — attributed to him only by contextual inference. This opening effectively contrasts city and countryside while introducing both Fernande and Pablo. Comics excel at integrating multiple narrative perspectives, and Pablo presents several viewpoints on Picasso. While Stok’s Vincent unites the perspectives of Stok, Vincent and Theo, Pablo combines the voices of its authors and original documents, emphasizing Fernande Olivier’s first-person narrative. Birmant describes Olivier’s writings as “an amalgamation of journals, fragmented texts. They are not historically exact but deeply authentic” (Favalier 2014).

This setup signals a biofictional blend of autobiographical elements from Fernande Olivier’s writings and biographical storytelling, allowing the comic to be read as both biofiction and an autobiographical adaptation. Pablo is therefore one of several protagonists. In the thirteen-page introduction, he shares the stage with Fernande, who occupies more panels and text space and the bustling backdrop of turn-of-the-century Paris and the World’s Fair.

The subtitles of the series indicate that Pablo will highlight other figures as well. Published in four volumes — Pablo: Max Jacob, Pablo: Apollinaire, Pablo: Matisse, and Pablo: Picasso — each installment centers on a significant relationship that shaped Pablo’s life. The volumes form a mini-bildungsroman narrating Pablo’s journey of self-discovery through contact with inspiring figures, culminating in his own artistic persona — a transformation reflected in the final subtitle that, for the first time, aligns directly with the comic’s title: Pablo: Picasso.

Munch and Andy

Munch, with nearly 300 pages, and Andy, spanning almost 600, are both extensive works that belong to category C. Each qualifies as a metabiofiction in its reflective engagement with the biography genre and the medium of comics itself, offering a biofictional pact. Kverneland’s Munch is marked by frequent self-reflexivity and ironic self-awareness, as we have seen in the discussion of the prologue, functioning as a comic that examines the comic-making process and pays homage to other famous comic artists. Munch’s experimental approach to his diaries, blending image and text, is regarded as a form of “proto-comics” by Kverneland who describes Munch as the perfect comic character in interviews. As announced in the prologue, Munch takes the form of a mosaic composed of both self-citations and external quotes. Figure 5 illustrates statements by Munch’s biographer Christian Krohg, as noted in the detailed source appendix. In this scene, a caricatured Munch vehemently criticizes realistic art; his chin, facial expressions, and gestures are exaggerated to grotesque effect. This lecturing Munch character conveys an idea that, on a meta-level, comments on the expectations of biographical “purity” — and, by extension, on this very work. Naturally, this exaggerated portrayal of Munch does not aim for realism. Instead, Munch’s own philosophy of art provides the conceptual framework: “One should not paint what one sees, but what one has seen.” For Kverneland, who compiles Munchian “biographemes,” this approach logically results in a comic figure. Andy, like Munch, is distinguished by a stylistic blend that highlights both the comic artist’s unique signature and the artistic phases in the life of the portrayed artist, while also emphasizing the aesthetics of the era depicted.

Figure 5

Kverneland. Munch. © SelfMadeHero, 2016.

Like Munch, Typex’s Andy is characterized by a pluralistic style that reflects the different creative periods of the depicted artist, the shifts in society, and the multiplicity of perspectives through which both comics narrate their stories. Munch can be seen as a literal illustration of the now-famous intertextuality metaphor of a “mosaic of quotations” or, as Kverneland puts it, “Collage of pure quotes” (Kverneland). In Andy, too, intertextual and inter-pictorial references are amplified, blending facts and fantasy. Typex, the author of Andy: A Factual Fairytale, frequently emphasizes in interviews that his intense engagement with Warhol mirrors his own obsessions, again recalling Lackey’s observation that “the author of biofiction fictionalizes a historical person’s life in order to project into existence his or her own vision of life and the world” (2022: 13). Typex notes that everything that inspires him artistically is rooted in the pop culture of Warhol’s era from the early 1960s to the late 1980s and points out that the comic does not claim factual accuracy but rather allows him to express what he personally enjoys about comics and music (Oellingrath 2018).

Figure 6 shows a scene from the book’s introduction featuring the boy Andy. Key themes or biographemes of Warhol’s childhood can be gleaned from this page, including themes of poverty, religion, his relationship with his mother, nightmares, and escapism through reading comics. The introduction is styled like the comics of the Warhol era, complete with creased paper and a small cat and mouse in the margin, reminiscent of Herriman’s Krazy Kat. Here, too, there are fantastical elements: in a dialogue with Mickey Mouse, Andy’s world suddenly bursts into color, as the following pages illustrate. Subsequent chapters are crafted in American pop art aesthetics and silkscreen printing or styled like New Yorker covers. The engagement with the comic medium differs from that of Munch. While Munch’s characters are exaggerated in a comic-like fashion, Andy’s portrayal of comic reading and confrontation with comic aesthetics serve as an origin story that fuels Warhol’s creativity and visual world (similar to the soup cans or the iconic ketchup bottle on the family table and even the devotional items). As Typex emphasizes, he revisits his own obsessions through the comic, including his love for the medium itself. Remarkably, unlike others in the corpus, this comic adheres to a conventional biographical framework by showing the artist as a young boy. As eclectic, colorful, and unwieldy as it may be, it begins the story in childhood, genuinely imagining the influences that shaped Warhol into the artist he became.

Figure 6

Typex. Andy: A Factual Fairytale. © SelfMadeHero, 2018.

Conclusion

Through a critical examination of graphic biofictions that focus on the lives of artists, this paper has reached several conclusions:

1. The enduring relevance of the traditional biography genre as seen in the case of Andy is essential in understanding biofiction, particularly in graphic novels about artists. Viewing biofictions through a biographical lens highlights the conventional motifs these works retain and the intentional deviations they introduce. It also allows fictional works to be subsumed under the same category, even if they are not based on real-life figures but nonetheless follow the conventions of biography — as defined in Buisine’s approach. The critical potential of adopting a biographical lens has so far been of negligible importance for the subgenre of artist biofiction.

2. The term biofiction covers both traditional and experimental comics, which might focus on the protagonist’s psychological profile, their work, the medium itself, or even critique of the genre of biography. These works fuse fact with fiction in exploring lives, either amplifying or transparently depicting mythologizing processes. Some comics, like Vincent and Gauguin, employ biographical motifs to reinforce the traditional mythos of the artist, even when experimenting with these narrative elements. Others, such as Munch and Andy, engage more critically, drawing from extensive secondary literature and using techniques like narrative disruption, stylistic shifts, or even cameo appearances of the author figure to draw attention to the constructed nature of their portrayals. Biofictions also frequently embrace fictional embellishments to immerse readers in specific historical and cultural settings. For example, stories about Pablo transport readers to turn-of-the-century Paris, offering an escapist experience akin to that of a historical film.

3. The subgenre of artist biofiction in comics has grown increasingly popular, not merely for marketing reasons but because of a natural thematic affinity between artists and comic creators. The ongoing significance of biofiction in comics seems assured. The medium’s unique qualities make it an ideal platform for experimenting with life stories, expanding temporal layers, shifting perspectives, and — especially relevant in artist biographies — creating a dialogue between image and text. This fusion of visuals and narrative allows the artist to engage their own art with that of their biographical subject, conveying these layered dynamics to the reader in a way that words alone might not achieve.

4. Comic artists, when crafting stories about other artists, find it compelling to channel their own creative identity into another, allowing for an introspective dialogue with both the artist depicted and their own artistic persona. As we have observed, many comic artists use biofiction to engage not only with the life and work of a chosen artist but also with their own creative identity and, crucially, with the chosen medium of comics. Comics also provide the opportunity to subtly reference various influences on the artistic personalities of both the portrayed and the portrayer, whether they be other visual artists, as seen in Pablo, or products and figures from popular culture, as in Andy. These resulting narratives are often polyphonic, rich in intertextuality, and critical of conventional biographical tropes, sometimes subtly, sometimes overtly.

5. This illustrates the diversity within biofiction, highlighting that biofiction itself is not monolithic but rather a spectrum of narrative approaches to life storytelling. Particularly notable within this spectrum is the subgenre of “metabiofiction,” which differentiates itself by making a clear biofictional pact through titles, cover blurbs, or prefaces. This approach offers a valuable tool for further distinguishing between varying narrative strategies within artist biofictions.

Drawing a parallel to the tradition of autobiographical and autofictional comics, it is likely that as this genre matures, less-canonized artists will find their way into biofiction comics. This shift could bring renewed educational value to the genre, as comics not only offer a medium for complex reflection on the works and personalities of featured artists but also serve as powerful tools for illustration, simplification, and teaching. Thus, biofiction in comics is poised not just to entertain but also to deepen readers’ understanding of both art and artists, enriching the medium and engaging its audience in a multifaceted exploration of lives and legacies.

Editorial Note

This article is part of the Special Collection: Graphic Biographical Fiction, edited by Nancy Pedri and Maria Juko, with assistance from the editorial team.

Competing Interests

The author has no competing interests to declare.