Learn to Narrate the Past and the Oppressive Present According to From Hell by Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell
The Anatomy of Terror: A Journey Through the Dark Alleys of History
In the depths of graphic literature exists a work that transcends the simple horror story to become a meticulous dissection of power, oppression, and systemic violence. From Hell, that masterful narrative piece that began to take shape in 1989, coinciding with the centenary of the infamous Jack The Ripper murders, represents much more than a simple historical recreation of Victorian crimes. It is a descent into the darkest abysses of human nature, a reflection on how power structures use violence to perpetuate themselves, and a critical analysis of patriarchal society through the lens of graphic horror.
Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell dedicated almost a decade to completing this monumental work, which was initially conceived in black and white to evoke the atmospheres of old horror films. This aesthetic decision was not merely ornamental, but deeply conceptual: they sought to recreate a gothic air that would envelop Victorian London, where oppression, the sinister, and the most hidden darkness of the human soul could manifest visually in every stroke and every shadow projected on the paper.
What’s fascinating about From Hell is that the Victorian historical context doesn’t function as a simple backdrop, but as another character in this macabre dance of horror. The work develops the controversial theory that points to Queen Victoria’s personal doctor, the Mason Sir William Withey Gull, as the true Jack the Ripper. According to this perspective, Gull would have become the first documented serial killer in modern history to systematically eliminate anyone who possessed compromising information about the illegitimate daughter of Prince Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence and grandson of the British monarch. This daughter, the fruit of an unauthorized secret marriage to Annie Crook, represented a threat to the stability of the monarchy.
This narrative proposes that five sex workers, friends of Annie Crook, were brutally murdered for having tried to blackmail the painter Walter Sickert, a close friend of the prince. Moore’s brilliance lies in giving these murders, through the character of Gull, a complex magical and ritual symbolism that would function as an ancestral mechanism to ensure male dominance over women. It is no coincidence that the infamous letters addressed to investigator Frederick Abberline and the seer Albert Lees degrade the victims by disparagingly calling them “whores,” thus reinforcing the systematic dehumanization of these marginalized women.
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The Art of Discomfort: Eddie Campbell’s Disturbing Aesthetics
One of the most remarkable qualities of From Hell from a graphic perspective is its extraordinary ability to generate a persistent feeling of discomfort in the reader. This effect is not accidental, but the direct result of Eddie Campbell’s masterful art and his particular approach to the representation of violence. The story required a hand that would not hesitate when depicting the explicit and the gore, an unfiltered gaze that could confront the reader with the brutality of the narrated facts.
Campbell achieves this through an exceptional mastery of point of view, carefully selecting angles that maximize the emotional impact of each scene. His goal is not simply to show violence, but to turn the reader into an involuntary witness to the crimes, thus creating an uncomfortable complicity that intensifies the horror.
In this shocking panel, Campbell displays all his mastery by showing us the violated body of one of the victims. The choice of a high-angle shot surprises and disturbs us from the first instant, bringing us excessively close to the crime scene and generating a feeling of helplessness similar to what a real witness would experience. Our hands, like those of the character contemplating the scene, tense up at the impossibility of intervening or reversing what has happened.
The details of the clothing are tremendously significant: the victim’s clothes do not belong to the aristocracy, but to the marginal sector of those who engaged in prostitution in Victorian London. This visual distinction immediately establishes the socioeconomic context and the vulnerability of the victim within a rigidly stratified class system.
Particularly disturbing is the treatment of dismemberment, represented with black ink stains that expand like an infection across the paper. The area of the torn genitals constitutes a stark visual expression of patriarchal disdain for female sexuality, especially when it is commercialized. In this panel there are no aesthetic concessions or beautifying stylization, only a raw representation of violence in its most brutal and dehumanizing form.
Alan Moore himself explained his choice of Campbell as illustrator in terms that reveal the deep understanding both creators had about the visual approach necessary for this work:
“I’ve heard less informed people describe his art as careless, unfinished, or unrealistic, and they’re generally people whose idea of realism is detail-overloaded superhero comics. Eddie’s work is actually very realistic, because when you look at things in real life, they don’t have a fine line drawn around them, not all details are immediately perceptible. He creates an incredibly believable naturalism and all scenes seem to unfold in the same world; there are no sudden excursions to a ‘World of Horror’. Whether characters are having sex, buying a candle at the corner store, having a conversation, or ritually disemboweling a prostitute… everything happens in the same absolutely believable world.”
Moore’s reflections take on special relevance when we analyze this sequence of panels and others of similar brutality. In the first panel we observe the knife after a frenzied movement, captured in its cutting trajectory, while the killer’s other hand firmly holds the victim’s body. The visual progression of the dismemberment advances with chilling intensity, giving the actions not only verisimilitude but also a terrible narrative vigor.
Campbell does not shy away from showing this ferocity because, as the narrative emphasizes, these events actually occurred. Extreme violence against defenseless women was real, it took place in darkness and secrecy, but not just any secrecy—that protected by the structures of power. The visual transformation is shocking: the face that appeared with defined features in previous pages has lost all recognizable human form, reduced to a disfigured and lifeless piece of meat, like a visual commentary on the dehumanization of the victims.
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The Duality of the Body: Between Violence and Pleasure
One of the most interesting facets of Campbell’s work in From Hell is his treatment of the human body in different contexts. The work establishes a fascinating counterpoint between scenes of extreme violence and those representing sexual intimacy, using the same graphic style for both but generating completely opposite emotional responses in the reader.
In this sequence of panels showing a sexual encounter between characters, Campbell applies the same naturalistic approach he uses for scenes of violence, but the result is radically different. The sexual act is not romanticized or embellished through aesthetic conventions typical of commercial comics. On the contrary, it is presented as something purely pleasurable, spontaneous, and even vulgar in its everydayness.
The genitals, which in the murder scenes appeared mutilated as a symbol of patriarchal violence, are shown here in full action from the perspective of enjoyment and natural desire. The medium and full shots reveal relaxed, comfortable, and secure bodies, with disheveled or discarded clothing in the precarious but intimate environment of the room that shelters this couple.
This duality in the representation of the human body—as an object of violence in one context and as a vehicle of pleasure in another—underscores one of the central themes of the work: how patriarchal power structures seek to control, regulate, and punish sexuality, especially female sexuality. The same body that is celebrated in consensual intimacy becomes an object of ritual mutilation when it transgresses the social norms established by those in power.
Eddie Campbell explained his incorporation into the project in an interview with David Carroll in 1994, revealing the deep understanding he had of Moore’s thematic intentions:
“Alan was writing and Steve Bissette was editing Taboo, and they needed an artist who wouldn’t get carried away with the glamour of violence. The point behind From Hell is, I think, a feminist point. It’s about the horror inflicted by a patriarchal system, that’s Alan Moore’s basic theme. Because in his philosophical flights of fancy in the fourth chapter, Gull invokes all these mythical precedents where Goddesses have been suppressed in one way or another. He cites the history of man and woman from a feminist point of view, but puts it in the mouth of someone who wants to usurp that, who wants to reestablish the old order, which is an interesting trick. I tried something similar, following Alan’s pattern, in one of the Deadface things: I had the God of Capitalism, Chryson, describe the history of capitalism from the point of view of a socialist critique, but as it was in the discourse of the guy who was going to reestablish domination, there was something perversely evil about it, which is exactly what Alan did. It was a pretty nasty and slightly insidious trick, I thought. It intensified the villainy because it’s a conscious villainy. The villain is not a victim of the system, the villain is above the entire system, but he’s going to do it anyway.”
Gull’s impunity and calculated evil are manifested with chilling clarity on this page. The character not only physically positions himself above us as readers, establishing a visual hierarchy of domination, but also has the protection of a higher power, as Campbell explains in his reflection. The blood dripping from his hands is the visible evidence of his crimes, but no one intervenes to stop him. This visual representation of the killer as someone who is “above the system” but who uses that same system for his own ends constitutes one of the work’s most powerful social critiques.
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Oppressive Architecture: Environment as a Reflection of Power
One of the most brilliant aspects of Eddie Campbell’s work in From Hell is his treatment of the urban environment as a visual extension of the power structures that underlie the narrative. Victorian architecture, with its gothic churches, imposing institutional buildings, and dark alleys, becomes a silent but omnipresent character that oppresses, confines, and defines the destinies of those who live under its shadow.
This striking page shows investigators approaching a classic gothic architecture church. Campbell masterfully uses perspective to accentuate the oppressive monumentality of the religious building. Historically, this type of structure was conceived as a human gesture to approach the divine: its pointed facades, sharp corners, and dizzying height represented an attempt at proximity to heaven. However, in the context of the narrative of From Hell, this construction does not symbolize spiritual elevation but quite the opposite.
Faced with the humble investigators and, above all, with the murdered women, the church stands as a colossal monster against which there is no possibility of victory. The disproportion between the human figures and the architectural structure visually establishes an overwhelmingly unequal power relationship. This visual treatment is not casual: Moore and Campbell use religious architecture as a visual metaphor for how traditional institutions, far from protecting the vulnerable, often serve as instruments of control and oppression.
Furthermore, this representation of the church functions as a gateway for both Moore and Campbell to interweave Western Christian traditions with pagan elements, presenting them as parts of the same potentially genocidal patriarchal imaginary. Religious institutions, the work visually suggests, are not exempt from complicity in systemic violence against those who are on the margins of society, particularly women.
To complement this reading of architecture as a manifestation of oppressive power, let’s observe the following image:
In this extraordinary night panorama, Campbell expands the architectural metaphor to the entire city. Jack The Ripper’s name extends like a giant shadow over the urban horizon, encompassing the entire night and the entire metropolis. This visual representation powerfully communicates the idea that the killer is not simply an isolated individual, but a manifestation of something much broader and more systematic that permeates the entire society.
The impossibility of escape or of finding the true culprit is captured in this image: evil is everywhere and nowhere at the same time, but—and this is crucial—it has the tacit approval of the “divinities” that watch over and punish “sins” from their towers and bell towers. The buildings, immersed in this penetrating darkness, become a homogeneous and terrifying black mass where anyone, including the reader, can get lost and be devoured.
This fusion between the killer and the city visually establishes one of the central arguments of the work: Jack the Ripper was not simply an anomalous criminal, but the inevitable product of a society structurally violent against women, especially those who transgressed established sexual norms.
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The Ritualization of Violence: Symbolism and Power in the Stroke
A fascinating aspect of From Hell that deserves detailed analysis is the way Moore and Campbell present violence not as random acts of cruelty, but as carefully choreographed rituals with profound symbolic implications. Through the interpretation of Sir William Gull’s character, the murders transform into something much more disturbing than simple homicides: they become occultist ceremonies designed to reinforce patriarchal dominance over the feminine.
Campbell manages to communicate this ritual dimension through his peculiar graphic style, which combines anatomical precision with an apparent roughness that proves tremendously effective. His lines, which might seem rushed or shaky at first glance, actually possess a precise intentionality: to convey the feverish urgency and altered state of consciousness of the killer while executing what he considers an act of magical transcendence.
The arrangement of mutilated bodies is not random in either the narration or the visual representation. Campbell draws the victims following patterns that suggest ritual positions, frequently with limbs extended in the form of a cross or star, evoking esoteric symbols that Gull, as a high-ranking Mason, would know perfectly. The extracted and relocated organs, shown with graphic precision, are not simply the result of a sick mind, but specific components of a larger ritual.
Particularly significant is the visual treatment Campbell gives to scenes where Gull experiences visions or connections with other eras during his crimes. In these moments, the graphic style becomes even more expressionistic, with lines that distort and perspectives that break, suggesting a rupture of ordinary reality. The killer visualizes ancient deities and ceremonies while executing his crimes, and Campbell translates these hallucinations into images that seem to vibrate with a dark energy on the paper.
Moore and Campbell establish a disturbing parallel between Gull’s surgical precision as a respected doctor and the ritual meticulousness of his murders. Medical tools become instruments of a perverted sacrifice, and anatomical knowledge is put at the service not of healing but of a particularly elaborate form of domination and destruction. This duality is especially disturbing because it suggests that the same institutions that supposedly protect (medicine, monarchy, religion) can be complicit in the perpetuation of systematic violence.
Campbell’s art thus exceeds the merely illustrative to become an integral part of the ideological discourse of the work. His apparently disordered but precisely calculated strokes generate a constant tension between the chaotic and the methodical, reflecting the central paradox of Gull’s character: a man of science and reason whose actions are motivated by superstitions and mystical delusions.
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From Historical to Universal: Creating Narratives That Transcend Time
Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell have provided us, through From Hell, a masterpiece that demonstrates how revisiting specific historical events can serve as a vehicle to articulate universal and timeless social critiques. What in principle could have remained a simple recreation of the infamous Whitechapel crimes is transformed, thanks to the vision of these creators, into a profound reflection on power structures, social control, and systemic violence against the marginalized.
Moore’s brilliance as a writer lies precisely in his ability to use concrete historical events as a starting point to explore recurring patterns in human history. Jack the Ripper’s murders are not presented as isolated anomalies but as particularly visible manifestations of a structural violence that permeates the entire society. When Moore addresses these crimes of the past, he is simultaneously questioning the mechanisms of oppression in force in his own present and in ours.
Campbell’s work perfectly complements this approach by giving the images a timeless quality. His style does not attempt to recreate the Victorian era with photographic accuracy, but to capture its oppressive essence and convey it to the reader with an immediacy that transcends historical time. The faces of the victims, drawn with empathy but without sentimentality, could be those of any marginalized person in any era, including our own.
This ability to establish connections between different historical moments through graphic narration offers us valuable lessons for our own creative work:
- The importance of context: Moore and Campbell demonstrate that the historical environment is not a simple decorative backdrop, but an active narrative element that must be thoroughly investigated and represented with intentionality.
- The conscious choice of style: The type of drawing selected is not merely an aesthetic decision, but a conceptual statement that must be aligned with the content and message of the work.
- The power of allegory: Specific events can and should function as windows to universal truths, allowing seemingly distant stories to directly challenge the contemporary reader.
- The ethical representation of violence: Campbell shows brutality without censorship but also without glorification, reminding us of the responsibility we have when representing the suffering of others.
For those seeking to develop graphic narratives with historical depth and contemporary relevance, From Hell offers a masterclass on how to balance rigorous research with creative license, and how to convert specific events into universal commentaries on the human condition.
Let’s Narrate! From Analysis to Personal Creation
Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell have given us, through From Hell, an extraordinary demonstration of how revisiting the past from a critical and chilling perspective can reveal profound truths about the power structures that persist to this day. Their work goes far beyond historical recreation: it constitutes a powerful ideological statement that uses graphic horror as a vehicle for social criticism.
It is clear that when Moore develops this type of narrative, he is not limited to commenting on isolated historical events, but establishes allegorical connections with contemporary realities. His works function as distorted mirrors that reflect both the past and the present, inviting us to recognize recurring patterns of oppression and violence that, although they adopt different forms, maintain a disturbing continuity through time.
As creators, we can extract valuable lessons from this approach. The key is to find those historical events, narrative tonalities, and illustration techniques that best align with our own critical perspectives and artistic sensibilities. It is fundamental to understand that each aesthetic decision—from the choice of graphic style to the treatment of light and shadow—constitutes a declaration of intentions that communicates our stance towards what is narrated.
Before embarking on your next narrative project, consider these fundamental questions:
- What story do you really want to tell and what message underlies the superficial plot?
- What stylistic and narrative resources will be most effective in conveying that message?
- What technical and conceptual tools will allow you to articulate your vision with greater authenticity?
- What type of stroke, what drawing style will resonate better with the emotional and ideological content of your narrative?
- What importance will you give to the urban, architectural, or natural environment, and how will you use spaces to reflect psychological states?
- How will you represent human bodies and what meaning will this representation have in the context of your story?
Creating powerful graphic narratives requires much more than technical skill: it demands deep reflection, rigorous research, and a clear awareness of what we want to communicate. As Moore and Campbell teach us, the true power of comics as an expressive medium lies in their ability to interweave the visual and the textual in a dialogue that transcends both elements to create something greater than the sum of its parts.
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Remember that every great work begins with an idea, is strengthened through meticulous planning, and is materialized through disciplined creation. Think. Plan. Create. And above all, always keep in mind that sequential art is one of the most powerful vehicles to critically examine our societies and propose new ways of understanding the world around us.
