friday robots

Halloween robots, just chillin' by a castle.
And a special bonus! Pumpkins! If you look carefully, you may spy a black cat getting into the festive spirit. Black cats do fine without candles inside them, just FYI.

comic strip superstar: complete failure

This post can now be viewed on my website.

looking for calvin and hobbes: a cartoonist's perspective

If Kubrick had stopped making movies after 2001: A Space Odyssey, the world would be the poorer for it. Bill Watterson, creator of Calvin and Hobbes, walked away from the comics page at the end of 1995 and has rarely been heard from since. Watterson’s continued absence from the comics page is felt as sharply as ever, which is partly why this blogger anticipated the first full-length treatment on the man and his masterpiece.

As a cartoonist who has written his fair share of words about comic strip legend Bill Watterson, I was keen to read Nevin Martell's part-biography, part-homage Looking for Calvin and Hobbes. Fortunately not all unauthorized biographies strive to be muckraking, and this is one. Martell is fan first, investigative journalist second. In his quest to answer a few questions about the reclusive cartoonist, Martell had to strike a balance between wanting to know more about Watterson and not wanting to intrude upon his self-imposed privacy. Some cynics would question how you can honor your subject's privacy while writing a book about said subject. I don't know if Martell answers that question, but it is clear that he clearly has a lot of respect for the man who created one of the great comic strips. I gleefully skipped across the same line by reading his book. I did it out of interest for someone who I consider one of my best teachers and certainly one of my heroes.

Don’t misconstrue my criticisms as a dislike for the book. I’ve found that, when you truly appreciate something, you find a thousand more nitpicky things than if you are uninterested in it. I've spend so much of my life reading and thinking about Calvin and Hobbes that I've come to a few conclusions of my own, and it was honestly a bit jarring to read that Martell's take could be quite different. That is, of course, one of the great things about Calvin and Hobbes - everybody has their own understanding of it.

Maybe this is why Watterson railed against merchandising, marketing, and inquiries into his personal life: he wanted, more than anything else, to create a strip that would speak directly to each reader, without outside commentary influencing that dialog. When Calvin speaks, he speaks in my voice. When Hobbes pounces, he does it in exactly the way I imagine it. A book like Martell's only seeks to honor Watterson and his work, but simply by existing it provides what some may mistake as an authoritative voice interrupting our own personal communication with a boy and his tiger.

Watterson’s stand against licensing is part of what made him a hero when I was a kid. How many public figures stick to their principles when fame and fortune are thrust upon them? It certainly turned him into a contentious character around his syndicate, and I count myself one of the kids saddened that I couldn’t have a Hobbes doll of my own. But Watterson took his responsibility as a storyteller seriously. He didn’t want our perceptions of him to get in the way of his work. He also didn’t want to become a businessman, which I can understand completely. We become cartoonists because we want to get out of an office, not become manager of our own.

An especially funny anecdote in Looking for Calvin and Hobbes relates the story of Watterson, then living in New Mexico, receiving a box full of Hobbes plush dolls from a hopeful manufacturer. His reaction? Marching them to his yard and burning them all. How awful to be a kid walking by Watterson’s house at that moment? A moustachioed man burning Hobbes in his yard. I can’t imagine a more horrifying image. Sometimes we have to be the villain in order to do the right thing.

Batman knows that. (Also, Mookie.)

The one piece of information I hoped to gather from this book was Watterson's working method. Who would turn down the chance to watch Van Gogh paint Starry Night? Or to sit in the studio when John Lennon went through take after take of Strawberry Fields Forever? That, more than childhood trivia, should be this book's reason for being.

There were a few clues as to how Watterson worked, but unfortunately they were few and far between. Martell focuses on the facts he can find, and since he was not able to talk to Watterson directly, he was forced to rely on friends, cartoonist acquaintances, and old interviews (most of which I have already read).

Martell also made a trip to the Cartoon Library & Museum in Columbus, Ohio, to look at Watterson’s original drawings. I’ve made this pilgrimage myself, and I cannot recommend the library enough - it is literally the closest you can get to the work. But I didn’t need to read Martell’s take on the strips; his insights leaned towards personal rather than artistic detail.

When museums x-ray a painting by Da Vinci, they do it because Da Vinci himself is not around to explain how he made it. Watterson still is around, yet he isn’t interested in imparting wisdom to the next generation of cartoonists. This is a great tragedy. Even when you look at an original Calvin and Hobbes you’re only seeing the finished product, not the process. His few, light pencil marks only tell so much. And of course we can only speculate about how he wrote. This especially applies to the later Sunday strips. How did Watterson decide where to put the panels? How to size them? It would be amazing to see a strip from beginning to end, from dialog written in a lined notebook to pencil sketches of layout to the inked final page.

The interviews Martell undertakes represent a fairly wide circle around Watterson. From cartoonists such as Richard Thompson, Stephan Pastis, Keith Knight, and Bill Amend, to Watterson’s editor Lee Salem, to Watterson’s mom and a couple of his personal friends, to people who are mainly referenced as “color commentary.” It’s cool to hear from Brad Bird, but he doesn’t really tell us much we don’t already know about Calvin and Hobbes.

Martell also annoyingly interprets Watterson’s few interviews as standoffish and cantankerous. Martell sees conflict and strife where I see a man attempting to fully grasp the unusual situation in which he’s found himself. I doubt many of us could explain our lives with as much eloquence and insight as Watterson has done. If he sometimes came off as overly judgmental of his cartooning peers, it was only because he held himself to the same exacting standards.

Surprisingly, Martell doesn’t know much about comics. He is a reader, not a cartoonist. The book would have been helped by someone who knew the comics landscape into which Calvin and Hobbes dropped and how it affected the comics page even 14 years after its retirement. How can you talk about the significance of Calvin and Hobbes if you have just recently become acquainted with Krazy Kat and Pogo, not to mention newer strips such as Cul de Sac, Lio, and Pearls Before Swine? Martell comes off as a competent journalist but a lackluster art critic.

Another funny anecdote. When Universal Press Syndicate announced Calvin and Hobbes would be running as a half-page feature upon Watterson’s return from sabbatical, the reaction from newspapers was fierce. Yet, of the 1800 papers that ran the strip, only 7 dropped it. It kind of makes me wonder what syndicates could get away with if they made similar demands for popular strips today.

Although it wasn’t the main reason for reading the book, I was pleasantly surprised at what Martell uncovered about Watterson’s formative years. He mentions the editorial strips Watterson did while working in Columbus for six months, but he also finds college comics, editorials done for other papers, and a strip he did for his hometown paper when he was in high school. Maddeningly, none of these are reproduced in the book. I’m not sure whether this was Martell’s decision or the publisher’s, but that absence keeps this book from being essential.

Studying the early work of a great artist is always helpful. How did Watterson arrive at Calvin and Hobbes? I’m grateful for the digging Martell did, but mere descriptions fail to do justice to Watterson’s comics.

Looking for Calvin and Hobbes (in Martell’s case, writing, and in my case, reading) is a way to deal with the loss of a beloved comic strip. But it isn’t Calvin and Hobbes I miss as much as Watterson the cartoonist. If he were to return with a 500-page sci-fi graphic novel, or, heck, a DVD player instruction manual, I would be pleased beyond words. Watterson showed us how it is done. His comics are invaluable as entertainment, social commentary, and as a signpost showing us how good the art form can get.

the gift of cyrus

My brother generously got me a book of Hannah Montana stickers for my birthday. Obviously, I had to use them.
I like the sticker that says "Part Time Pop Star." It means that half the time she's just Billy Ray Cyrus' kid.

This next piece is a bit psychedelic.
A lot of people have asked me how Miley Cyrus came up with her stage name, Hannah Montana. It isn't hard to find out. In her book, Chronicles Vol. 1, Cyrus says, "one time [a friend] asked me why I was using a different name when I played, especially in the neighboring towns. Like, didn't I want people to know who I was?"

She wanted a name that encapsulated her identity. "What kind of confused me later was seeing an article in a Downbeat magazine with a story about a West Coast saxophone player named David Allyn. I had suspected that the musician had changed the spelling of Allen to Allyn. I could see why," Cyrus continues. "It looked more exotic, more inscrutable. I was going to do this, too."

"The first time I was asked my name in the Twin Cities, I instinctively and automatically without thinking simply said, 'Hannah Montana.'"

That's how real musicians do it, dear readers.

APE 2009

This year was the first time I attended the Alternative Press Expo, held in a part of Northern California known for earthquakes, big trees, gay people desecrating the Institution of Marriage, hippies, and a heartfelt desire not to be confused with Southern California.

My trip into the heart of Bigfoot Country began with a drive through Redwoods State Park.
The trees there are as big as advertised. In fact, my traveling companion Andy and I came across this tree, known simply as Big Tree. The Park Service calls 'em like they see 'em.

The scale was confusing as dusk approached. Were the trees really that big, or had we shrunk?

With trees this huge, it was hard to refrain from just cutting them all down. That was the first reaction of the people of the last few centuries, and I can see why. With something this extraordinary, this powerful, this magical, your first instinct is to tear it to pieces. In spite of this totally understandable response to the beauty of nature, many big trees still stand.

My wife, who was sadly not able to make the trip, had made one request of me: cut down a redwood and bring it back to her. Like any good husband, I wanted to fulfill my duty to my lady. Yet, despite meticulous planning and one of those very long saws, Andy and I couldn't figure how to load a tree onto my tiny VW. Knowing the wrath I would incur back home, I left all trees standing.

Redwoods are not the only oversized phenomenon in Northern California. Living in those woods is the rarely seen Bigfoot. Here is a plaster cast of a Bigfoot track, seen with my foot for comparison.
The Bigfoot is so elusive that even the museum dedicated to him was closed. Oh Bigfoot, how can we know you better if you never allow us to buy key chains in your image?
Bigfoot Country.
But the main goal of this trip was not to find and befriend Bigfoot. It was to sell comics. APE, in San Francisco, is held in a large yet comforting space just south of downtown. This being my second show as an exhibitor, I had no expectations sales-wise. I set up my table and waited for the crush of humanity. This is how it must feel for Bono and The Edge just before a show.
I highly recommend the work of my table-mate, Kenan. If you're wondering, that's a comic story masquerading as a calendar on the left side of his table. To the right of Kenan is Cate, who was absolutely not for sale.
I met a lot of very nice Californians at APE. I was also able to reconnect with cartoonist friends, which is nice because normally when two cartoonists see each other on the street they must duel to the death. The townsfolk scatter, the sheriff pretends to be busy, and the casket-maker rubs his palms together in anticipation. But at events like these, the rules are suspended and we all get along.
After APE was over, I was able to wander the streets of San Francisco a bit. In many ways the city reminds me of a larger version of Portland.
Instead of the Willamette River, they have the Pacific Ocean.
They have a number of public transportation options, including these historic streetcars.

The Castro Theater was playing Grey Gardens. Very amusing.
In spite of these similarities, there were moments when my expectations of San Francisco did not match up to its present reality.

One of my two disappointments was the Haight Ashbury district. Instead of a freewheelin' love fest, I found million-dollar condos and a Ben & Jerry's Scoop Shop. I love ice cream as much as the next guy, but it was something of a let-down. At least some dude parked his VW bus right on the corner. Thanks for keeping it real.
On the upside, there was a cool bookstore on Haight which took my Falling Rock books to sell. Thank you! I was pleased to see many such thriving independent bookstores in San Francisco. The kind of bookstore that doesn't have much space, but somehow manages to carry all the awesome books you've never heard of but really want to read.

Besides Haight Ashbury, my other disappointment was Berkeley College. If I had driven my VW to campus 40 years ago, I would have been greeted with a flower wreath and offers to smoke from a dozen bongs. This year, I got slapped with a parking ticket for hopping out of my car to take a few pictures. Enjoy this one; it counts as one of the most expensive photos I've ever taken.
I'm sad to say my trip included the discovery that hippies either fried themselves on drugs or went corporate. Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?

In spite of being let down by the hippies, my trip was both productive and enjoyable. The state of California is only bankrupt in the financial, not the moral, sense. (Except Berkeley. I hate you.) CA certainly knows how to put on a cracking good comics fest. Thanks to APE and to all the people I met. I hope we can do it again sometime.

friday robots

Today, we have a robot with a puppet, a robot with a saguaro growing out of its head, and a duck with the legs of an ostrich and the tail of a tiger. Happy Friday everybody!

willamette week

I always wanted to be published in the Willamette Week, a weekly free newspaper here in Portland, and now I am. It isn't my comic; rather, a blurb about my comic.
Will my comic make it to the next round?
We'll have to wait until next week to find out!
Tune in here (or Amazon.com) for the spine-tingling conclusion.*


*This post has nothing to do with Halloween, yet I find myself trying to make the connection regardless.

30

I spent the majority of my 30th birthday driving home from San Francisco. Some people may say this is not the best way to spend an Important Milestone. But for me it was perfect. I got to talk to friends and family, I listened to podcasts and music, and I got the hell out of California. It's good to be back in Oregon.

Last weekend I was at APE (the Alternative Press Expo). I'll provide a full report soon, but suffice to say it was a lot of fun and I even sold some Falling Rock books in the process. Many thanks to my awesome table-mate Kenan and his lady friend Cate, who, despite living on the wrong side of the country, made the whole event fun and over too quickly.
San Franciscans kind of remind me of people in Portland. They dress similarly and both cities have a thriving arts community.
For some reason, the Chinese placed this tile in Jack Kerouac's honor. Was Kerouac a Chinese hero? Did Mao encourage public readings of Dharma Bums?

The main question is, now that my youth has officially died, what is in store for me? I'm happy with my accomplishments so far, but there's still a lot of comics left in this tired old body.

One thing is certain: the rest of my life will be dedicated to finding and befriending the elusive Bigfoot.

helicopters make it OK

Films are complicated endeavors, and there are many things that can go wrong while making a movie. Conversely, there are relatively few things that a director can do to save a doomed movie. One of the most reliable ways a director can save a movie is by adding a helicopter.

Chuck Norris made more than his share of cheap, undercooked action films. Yet, even after all these years, they are enjoyable to watch. He knew that, by featuring helicopters in key scenes, he would transcend the very genre - nay, he would transcend commercial filmmaking itself. And he was right. Helicopters saved Chuck Norris from being a laughingstock. He is internationally feared and admired, with no small thanks to helicopters.

Sylvester Stallone made a small movie in the early 80's called First Blood. How ironic that the series, later known as Rambo, would achieve fame only when Stallone co-starred with helicopters in Rambo II and III. How would the world look today if there had been no helicopters in the Rambo movies? We'd still be up to our eyeballs in the Cold War.

Predator, a fantastic movie already (featuring two future governors), propelled itself to international renown by featuring helicopters. Echoes of Arnold Schwarzenegger's line, "Get to the chopper!" can be heard in almost every speech he has given to the California State Congress.

Even in an otherwise irredeemable movie, helicopters make it okay. The Steven Seagal direct-to-DVD movie Against the Dark is poorly written, directed, lit, edited, and acted. Seagal, looking like the fat, sweaty Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now (another helicopter movie), shuffles his way to another paycheck. Yet, it has a helicopter in it. I am proud to say I finished watching Against the Dark due to this very occurrence.

Hack directors like Michael Bay manage to stay in the movie-making business because of their reliance of helicopters. Bay has used a helicopter in every single one of his movies. Is this the sign of a desperate man? Yes. But he's also made a boatload of money.

Helicopters elevate crap movies to okayness and good movies to greatness. It is on their swiftly rotating blades that all our hopes and dreams lie. Maybe one glorious day every movie will feature a helicopter. Until then, we have the Chuck Norrises and Sylvester Stallones of the world to keep us afloat.

friday robots: check out falling rock edition

Today I was able to sneak a few Friday Robots into Falling Rock. Check it out!

And this is what Friday Robots would look like if it was a box of cereal:
Bon appetit!

Don't forget to meet me in San Francisco this weekend. I'll be at APE, table 246B. You can find me by following all the cool kids. Or by following these directions. Whichever way works for you.

I'll be in San Francisco

at APE! October 17-18.
APE, the Alternative Press Expo, at the San Francisco Concourse. You'll find me selling my books (table 246B) and generally enjoying the good weather.

I'll look something like this:
See you there!

plugging

Longtime readers of this blog know of my fondness for Richard Thompson's comic strip Cul de Sac.

If you've ever wondered what it would be like to read a comic strip that is visually innovative, wittily written, and plain old funny, look no further. Hey, and he's got a new book out!
But the point of this post is not just a shameless plug. One of the individual strips contained within caught my eye:
I was more than a little excited to find an echo of Falling Rock National Park mentioned in this strip. Tottering Rock may only be a State Park, and the rock itself may not yet be falling, but I was giddy nonetheless. And the character mentioning the park is named Ernesto! Such an avalanche of happy coincidence.

comic strip superstar: the semi-finals

Today I received word that I am one of the 50 Semi-Finalists in Amazon & Universal Press Syndicate's Comic Strip Superstar contest. It truly is an honor to be in the running.

I can't yet reveal the name of my strip, but I can tell you that it is not Falling Rock. I created a whole new strip for the contest. I wrote new words, I drew new drawings, and I even made a little offering to the Comic Strip Gods.

Now my work will be read by four titans of the comic industry:
-Garry Trudeau, creator of Doonesbury.
-Mark Tatulli, creator of Lio and Heart of the City.
-Lynn Johnston, the grande dame of the comic community, creator of For Better or For Worse.
-Scott Hilburn, creator of the single-panel comic The Argyle Sweater.

On October 28 the ten finalists will be announced on Amazon. Readers will vote for their favorite, which will determine the winner. If I'm selected, you can bet you'll hear from me. Look forward to a lot of begging and cajoling on this blog if I am one of the lucky ten.

pirates! invade The Family Monster

Here's another storyline from my old strip, The Family Monster. I'm having fun looking through these. Sometimes they even surprise me by being good. Take this story, where pirates crash in the desert and need Dee, Monster, Dirch and Eggman to help them get going again.

If you look closely, you can see my old web address. And look! It still exists!

friday robots: robots in distress

I used dry brush and flicking paint to make some new patterns in Photoshop, hence the distressed look of these robots.