Silent Spaces
In graphic memoirs, silence can be just as powerful as dialogue. Both David Small in Stitches and Tillie Walden in Spinning use silence, space, and repetition to diagram how adolescents deal with isolation, trauma, and self-expression. On page 169 of Spinning, after a car accident, Tillie states, “I feel like I swallowed my own voice.” The panels are minimal and filled with soft blues, making her sense of isolation feel very real. Tillie’s figure appears small and confined within the car, highlighting her emotional constriction. In a similar way, on page 215 of Stitches, the scene where David is alone in a dark auditorium watching the same film over and over again, uses darkness, shadows, and a comically small figure to depict a quiet refuge. Both pages depend on the visual layout of panels, light, and space instead of words to convey internal feelings.
In Spinning, the repetition of panels and steady pacing create a pattern that reflects Tillie’s internal thoughts. The lack of dialogue forces the reader to pay attention to her body language, the shading, and the surrounding space. Her “swallowed voice” becomes apparent through visual elements, such as the emptiness of the car’s interior, and the soft color of the page. Hillary Chute notes that “comics can represent the unspeakable not by filling in but by leaving open—by making space for absence” (Chute, Comics for Grown-Ups?). Walden puts this idea into use by showing how her silence takes up space, and the reader engages by interpreting the emotional severity of the scene.
In Stitches, Small also uses panel arrangement and lighting to convey deeper meaning of David’s thoughts. The auditorium is shrouded in darkness except for the light from the film, which emphasizes David’s small figure alone at the center of the theater. Unlike Tillie’s silence, which signifies trauma and limitation, David’s chosen silence provides solace and comfort. His isolation is a choice, allowing him to escape the overwhelming noise of his home life. The large and constant panels and the projection beam slow down the narrative, giving the audience a moment to breathe. Both methods illustrate how comics can manipulate our sense of time to enhance emotional effects.
Ultimately, these pages reveal how silence is used differently depending on context.
Spinning shows silence as involuntary, imposed by trauma and internalized repression, and
Stitches shows silence as voluntary, a protective retreat chosen by the narrator, but in both cases, the authors use visual strategies—light, space, repetition, and panel arrangement—to make these silent experiences emotionally legible, therefore both memoirs demonstrate that silence and stillness in comics are not emptiness but powerful forms of expression and agency.