On the Beauty of Comic Conventions

I spent this past weekend at C2E2 in Chicago, and I've been reflecting on what makes comic conventions unique. Over the years, I've attended many different gatherings—San Diego Comic-Con, WonderCon, gaming events like BlizzCon and E3, tech conferences, auto shows, food festivals, sports venues, concerts, art galleries—each with their own distinct atmosphere. But comic conventions have a special quality that sets them apart from other experiences.

The difference isn't just in the content but in the quality of human connection. I've found that comic conventions foster a sense of mutual appreciation that feels genuine and unpretentious. People come together not to compete or impress, but to celebrate creativity and shared passions.

I was fortunate enough to sit third row at the Futurama panel, watching the cast interact with each other and the audience. What struck me was how much they seemed to genuinely enjoy being together. They praised the writers for creating such memorable characters, thanked the audience for their dedication, and showed real appreciation for the collaborative process that brings the show to life. There was no hierarchy of importance—just gratitude for being part of something meaningful.

This supportive energy extends throughout the convention floor. At one point, someone asked me to take a photo of them—they were dressed as some character which I didn't even recognize—posing with another attendee cosplaying as Storm from X-Men. The moment was simple but telling—two strangers connected not by personal history but by appreciation for each other's creativity. They admired the craftsmanship in each other's costumes and shared a moment of genuine connection. It wasn't performative or transactional, just authentic recognition of shared enthusiasm.

I've written before about purpose in our increasingly automated world. In my piece On Robots and Purpose, I explored what remains of human agency when machines remove from us the obligation to "do." Comic conventions offer a compelling answer: our purpose can be found in creation and connection. In these spaces, people aren't passive consumers but active participants—making costumes, creating art, building communities around shared stories.

What makes comic conventions beautiful is this rare space where creation is celebrated without pretense, where kindness is the default mode of interaction, and where human connection feels authentic. In a digital landscape often dominated by criticism and division, these physical gatherings demonstrate what interaction could be at its best—supportive, appreciative, and genuinely interested in what others have created.

As I left C2E2, walking past groups taking photos and exchanging contact information, I realized that these conventions represent something essential: spaces where we can set aside cynicism and simply appreciate each other's passions. They remind us that beneath the digital noise and social posturing, we still fundamentally desire to create and to connect—and when given the right environment, we do both remarkably well.