The Bethesda North Marriott Hotel and Conference Center in Maryland has always been a somewhat unlikely location for comics’ premier showcase of indie creators. But for Small Press Expo, which returned to the venue for its 2026 edition, held September 12–13, it’s just a part of the local charm.
Warren Bernard, a DMV local who has served as executive director of SPX since 2011, recalls first discovering Small Press Expo by happenstance. “I thought, ‘Hey, there’s this comic convention that’s walking distance from my house, I might as well go,’” Bernard recalled to PW.
This year, the Marriott location was agomery County signed a contract for use of the convention center space that did not include a collective bargaining clause. In response, the local hotel and restaurant workers union, UNITE-HERE Local 25, called for a boycott of the venue, which was elevated to national status by the AFL-CIO earlier this summer
While acknowledging sympathy with the union’s goals (and despite calls from the cartoonists’ guild Cartoonists United that SPX cancel the event this year), Small Press Expo announced on August 10 that it would be moving forward with the convention at the Marriott, due to the prohibitive costs of altering the contract. Bernard remains unapologetic about the decision, and says that there was little pushback from creators or attendees: only three exhibitors cancelled out of more than 500, and just under 4,000 guests came through the doors this year.
For the union’s part, Mike Haak, senior political researcher for UNITE-HERE Local 25, attended the conference, and said that his goal was to build support in case the union’s boycott of the conference center is still continuing next year.
“I could either [protest the event] or I could go to the convention, and talk to lots of people, and try and build a coalition to move it [to another location] next year if needed,” Haak told PW.
Representatives of Marriott, the Montgomery County Executive, and Cartoonists United did not reply to requests for comment.
But for most of the guests and attendees on the floor this year, the emphasis was less on controversy than community. With most artists ensconced within one hotel for the whole of the weekend, SPX tends to take on a close-knit vibe that artist A.T. Pratt compared to “comic book summer camp.”
Many convention-goers expressed the same feelings: Ashley Mika, a Washington, DC local who’s been going to Small Press Expo for the past three years, said that she came to engage with Black and queer creators over the weekend. “I love the stories. I love supporting Black and queer creators. It’s harder for everyone these days,” Mika told PW.
Artists on the show floor are chosen by lottery. “The lottery really cranked up the diversity,” Bernard says. “We’re blind. We don’t care what the art looks like. So that allows us to cast this net that, when we get through it, it’s like, “wow, look at all these different fish.’”
Indeed, at a panel on queer horror on Saturday morning, panelists described the genre as a haven for a community of outsiders. Corinne Halbert, whose comics Acid Nunand Scorpio Rising have won a growing following of young fans, got cheers from the room when she described her ethos: “I make comics that I’m excited about. And I’m excited about the occult, horror, and hot ladies.”
Likewise, another Saturday panel called “The Eras of Punk in Comics” brought together a set of creators who all described music and comics as forms of communal expression for nerdy outsiders like themselves. Artist Biana Xunise (Punk Rock Karaoke), who said that she was inspired to undertake her work after the murder of George Floyd in 2020, told the audience that comics were a way to feel validated in her expression. “It’s nice to be recognized by your peers,” Xunise said. “It’s nice to know that your work matters.”
Not surprisingly for a convention of offbeat and independent artists, other panels over the weekend took on a similarly antiestablishment air. At a panel called “Underground Artists: Yesterday and Today,” veteran cartoonist Kim Deitch recalled the 1960s origins of the underground scene. “Back then, if you were a cartoonist making comics, you had to work for The Man,” Deitch said. “And we didn’t want to work for The Man.”
Other panels were more overtly topical: one Sunday session staged readings from contemporary Iranian cartoonists like Shaghayegh Moazzami, while another panel called “Rethinking U.S. History” stressed the role of comics as a way to educate in uncertain historical times.
But politics largely took a backseat to good-natured regional rivalries. Cartoonist Nick Bunch of Reptile House Comix held down the fort forover a row of creators, including Ben Passmore and Brooklyn publisher Frog Farm (name of both a publishing house and the founder who runs it), that Bunch described as the NYC and Philadelphia contingent. For Frog Farm, SPX’s role as a cosmopolitan assembly of creators was both a blessing and a curse.
“SPX is the center of the calendar for a lot of people,” Frog Farm told PW. “But I’m more excited about local events. People should be organizing their own local scene.”
On the other hand, SPX is the sort of place where Gary Hallgren, one of the notorious Air Pirates behind the X-rated, copyright-infringing Disney parody Air Pirates Funnies, could be found signing copies of his work at the Dummy magazine booth. Hallgren seemed to capture the ethos of indie comics past and present.
“It was a hell of an argument [over Air Pirates Funniesin the 1970s], and the argument’s not over yet, especially now with computers. Let me say this: F**k AI!” Hallgren told PW.“And you can quote me on that.”
