I remember when Calvin and Hobbes was still syndicated. I think I used to look at the panels before I could read their words, my parents explaining each one to me every Sunday morning. I was a wee one. I didn't quite get the philosophy inherent within that genius strip until much later, even after I read the anthology cover-to-cover in my elementary school's library. Calvin and Hobbes is funny when you're a kid because it knows exactly what it is to be six. And it's uniquely poignant up through your adult years because it also knows exactly what it means to be human.

The dawn of webcomics brought a lot of noise to the comic scene. Suddenly, anybody with a Wacom tablet and a graphics program could write their own strip. And a lot of them did. I remember 2004, where there were more comics in existence than ever before in history. Most of them were bad. Such is the way of the internet. 

But amid the early-aughts comicry chaos arose a few spectacular gems. Not all artists went for the trendy subject matter or the cheap three-frame laughs. Some spent hours rendering beautiful works of art contained in white panels. Some made work that reminded me a lot of my well-aged childhood comic friends. 

Copper, by Kazu Kibuishi, might have been the best thing to come out of the golden age of webcomics. It updated only once a month, but was released in beautiful full pages, rendered (primarily) in color. And it got awfully deep.

The comic follows the surrealistic adventures of a boy and his dog. It's hinted occasionally that their travels occur mainly in Copper's dreams, but in the end the setting doesn't really matter. What's learned on the journeys becomes much more important than their physicality. Copper retains a subtle, reflective tone throughout. There's certainly humor, but it's not rendered in an easy formula like in most webcomics. It leaks out in a wry comment or an ironic closing panel. 

What the comic focuses on is the relationship between its two primary characters and how they learn about the world that surrounds them. It's a deeply poetic work, full of lush, dreamy environments that serve as springboards for philosophical discussion. Copper and Fred talk about beauty, love, ruin, optimism. Their world has some darker points. A sense of constant, muted danger floods certain pages. The comic manages to be adult in depth without ever losing its sense of childlike wonder and creativity. One might imagine it as being located in the mind of an adult who returns to a childlike state only in dreams. Copper reminds us that maturity need not exclude a sense of curiosity and a richly cultivated imagination. 

All 41 pages of Copper are available at its original home on Bolt City. It is also available for purchase as a paperback or hardcover book. Parse the back issues and remind yourself how comics as a medium can be a vehicle for the best of human exploration.