In 1992, Dan Jurgens killed Superman. And he did it from his home in the Twin Cities. As the chief architect of "The Death of Superman" story line, he sold millions of copies for DC Comics and became Minnesota's most famous comic-book artist.

Nearly two decades later, the metro area is overflowing with cartoonists. But here's the thing: Most of them don't aspire to be Dan Jurgens. They don't want to draw Superman. While they might toil in the shadow of Jurgens' success, they don't necessarily envy his position. Like some rogue squadron of antiheroes, they've hatched a different plan.

"They have their own stories to tell," said Britt Aamodt, author of "Superheroes, Strip Artists & Talking Animals: Minnesota's Contemporary Cartoonists." Of the two dozen artists profiled in the new 200-page book, only a few draw superheroes for a living. The rest are content to be auteurs: writing, drawing, inking and self-publishing stories dreamed up in their imagination. Some still work 9-to-5 jobs. Apparently, there's little money in comics if you're not drawing the Man of Steel.

In her book, Aamodt argues that this recent crop of artists is taking Minnesota's scene to new heights.

"They've really spread their wings," Aamodt said last week. "They can tell any kind of story. And they just don't have to be about men in tights."

The author speaks of the community's survival skills and organizing power as if she were describing a rebel army. She cites the International Cartoonist Conspiracy (more on that later) and the presence of the Minneapolis College of Art and Design (MCAD), home to one of the country's only comic art degrees.

Last year saw the debut of the Minneapolis Indie Xpo, a festival dedicated to self-published artists and small-press publishers. More than 1,000 people attended.

A dozen of these artists even went on a cartoonist camping trip this past fall. For one weekend, they left the solitary confines of their studios for an adventure of their own (in Wisconsin). "We envisioned the day with sketchbooks, drawing all day," said artist Kevin Cannon. "But that didn't really happen. It was super normal. And I think that's what we wanted."

Cannon, 31, thinks this sense of community comes with the landscape. He said his acclaimed 400-page graphic novel -- the sea adventure "Far Arden" -- wouldn't exist without the input (and criticism) of his fellow cartoonists.

"It's the Minnesota ethos," he said. "It's the real version of Minnesota Nice. We know that the tide is going to raise all boats."

Drawn together

Like jazz, the comic book started as a uniquely American art form. It began in the 1930s as an expansion of the daily newspaper strip. Then Superman, Captain America and an army of superheroes invaded the medium. But starting in the 1960s, underground artists like R. Crumb infiltrated the market, forcing superheroes to make room for stories about the drama and comedy of real life.

Minnesota is a microcosm of this dynamic. Artists Doug Mahnke and Patrick Gleason have worked for DC Comics for years, often lending their bombastic pencils to the "Green Lantern" titles. This summer they'll watch the character fly onto the big screen with Ryan Reynolds in the lead role. But like Jurgens, they are the exception to the rule in the Twin Cities, where many cartoonists pursue their vision along a continuum ranging from scraping-by recluses to collective rabble-rousers.

In 2002, Steven Stwalley, 40, founded the International Cartoonist Conspiracy, a ragtag group of artists who gather monthly to draw together. Eight years later, the group is still going strong, meeting twice a month for coffee-shop artist jams, as well as hosting gallery shows and publishing each other's work (there are ICC cells in other cities, too). The group's Feb. 3 jam at Diamonds Coffee Shoppe will be its 100th meeting. But the camaraderie took time. Cannon, a regular at these meetings, said he wasn't always the conspirator he's come to be.

"The Conspiracy is really good for people like me who are antisocial," he said. "I think I've grown out of that."

School of comics

If the Conspiracy is the underground arm of local cartooning, then MCAD is the domain of comic scholars. Barbara Schulz is the lead professor of the school's comic art program. She said the major has grown in the past decade, now representing almost 10 percent of MCAD's student body, including many women.

While only a few women in the Twin Cities have published full-fledged graphic novels, Schulz said the number of female comic art students has skyrocketed. More than 60 percent of her classes are filled with women.

"It's going to change drastically in the next four years," Schulz said.

In the meantime, MCAD has produced some successful alums -- including Tim Sievert, Nikki Cook, Ryan Kelly and Tyler Page. Will Dinski moved here from Illinois, graduated from MCAD in 2002 and never left. His new book, "Fingerprints," was released by Top Shelf, one of the country's leading publishers of graphic novels. (See story below for 10 essential Minnesota-made comics.)

Starving artists?

Of course, getting published doesn't always mean getting paid. Dinski, 30, still works a day job as a print production manager at a small consulting firm. Lauderdale cartoonist Lars Martinson, 33, scrounges income doing freelance illustrations and the meager proceeds from self-publishing "Tonoharu," his semi-autobiographical account of living in Japan. Due to his meticulous line work, it took Martinson four years to complete the story's first part. He recently released a second volume, with a print run of 3,500.

"If your book sells, you get a slightly bigger slice of a very small pie," he said. "No sane person would go into comics as a moneymaking endeavor."

Sam Hiti is a Minneapolis artist who has stayed independent even as major publishers continue to court him. Recently, he self-published a sci-fi war epic called "Death-Day" with a print run of more than 10,000.

"If my work is good enough, it should fund itself," Hiti said. "And it has."

Comic polemics

Most of these artists say they'd be making comic books even if they weren't getting paid.

"I have ideas for stories all the time," said Lupi McGinty. "If I don't get them down, they make little cigarette burns in my brain."

McGinty, 31, is one of several Twin Cities artists (such as Danno Klonowski) who contribute artwork to a series called "False Witness: The Michele Bachmann Story." This is the political side of cartooning. In 2008, lefty political writer Bill Prendergast felt the mainstream media weren't confronting Rep. Michele Bachmann, R-Minn., on her most inflammatory positions. He thought a comic might illustrate his points.

"The controversial quotes that appear in the comics are hers, not ours," Prendergast said.

McGinty said the comics might poke fun but they're not meant to be malicious. "I'm just not a vicious person," she said. "I wouldn't want to be seen as attacking anybody. At the same time, I think it's good to be critical of politicians."

McGinty also makes comics about talking chickens.

The 'Unwritten' king

Peter Gross is at the pinnacle of his auteur comic-book career.

Every day he wakes up at about 10:30 a.m., puts on his slippers and heads upstairs to his office -- the attic of his three-story house overlooking Powderhorn Park in south Minneapolis. The cavernous retreat is filled with pencils, pens, paper, computers and comic books. Instead of a normal desk, he sits on a cushy loveseat surrounded by flat-screen monitors, stacks of paper and trays of drawing utensils. This has been his perch for 17 years.

"I've hardly ever left," he joked.

He is the co-creator, co-author and artist of the monthly fantasy series "The Unwritten," one of DC Comics' best sellers and published under DC's Vertigo imprint. Gross owns the characters with writer Mike Carey, a Brit who e-mails his scripts from England.

Last summer, "The Unwritten" was nominated for three Eisner awards -- the Oscars of the comics industry. While he's a veteran, Gross said last year's rush of success has given him a new perspective. "In some ways, I feel like I'm just starting out," he said.

Since he doesn't get out much, Gross admitted that his closest connection to the Twin Cities scene is via the assistants and interns who work in his studio. Still, he said he understands the need for a strong, collaborative community.

"I admire it," he said. "When you have that type of collaboration, you end up with something that you otherwise wouldn't have had."

An 'Uncanny' future

One of Gross' assistants is Brittney Sabo, 25. She recently self-published her first graphic novel, a beautifully rendered piece of nostalgic Americana called "Francis Sharp in the Grip of the Uncanny!" It's about a farm boy with a wild imagination.

After a December book-signing inside Big Brain Comics in downtown Minneapolis, she talked about the aspirations and anxieties of being a fledgling cartoonist. She was a standout at MCAD and is one of the few women to publish a graphic novel in the Twin Cities. Still, she knows the path of a self-published artist is never clear.

"There's still a chance I might fade into obscurity," she said.

Standing next to her was Kevin Cannon, whose superpower seems to be an eternal sense of encouragement. He told her:

"We won't let that happen."

Tom Horgen • 612-673-7909 Follow him on Twitter: @tomhorgen