Three Shades

I don't do many "How To" posts about cartooning. I don't feel particularly well qualified--there are 3.74 million people doing this stuff better than me and I think of my own work as just adequate. I write and draw well enough to tell any story I can think up. I try to improve. I also think as fewer and fewer creators show interest in story or craft and readers' standards slip, my work will gradually look better and better.
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(That last is a joke, but in fact I think few people making a living cartooning today--some very celebrated and successful--could have gotten a job in the 1950s. There are some legitimate reasons for that: styles and tastes change, and modern readers value a quirky authorial voice. That's great. Still, I can't think of more than a dozen contemporary cartoonists who would've been fit to clean brushes for Walt Kelly, Milt Caniff, Will Eisner or Stan Drake. Including me. Those artists knew so much we don't even know we don't know.)
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However, I drew some stuff in the past few days that I thought turned out all right and might make a nice "How To" post. I noticed I'd used three different techniques to show the boundary between light and dark on a shaded object, and thought I could write about the techniques and the thinking behind them.



This is pretty simple but also exacting and a bit tedious. I'd use it to shade a smooth but not necessarily shiny object in bright light; it also makes a fine "Ka-Pow!" effect. Using a crow-quill nib, I start each line at the narrow pointy end nearest the light source and pull the pen toward me, pressing down gradually to make the line thicker as it goes.


You can do this very precisely using a straight edge to make sure the lines are straight and all converge to a single point. In this case I wanted to suggest a less even surface so I did it freehand. I wanted them wiggly and uneven.

The next surface is illuminated by a single bright light source that casts deep shadows. In this case, it's a cavern wall.


I do about 80% of my cartooning with a brush, this included. The technique is almost the same as above: starting at the pointy end of each shadowy spike, I pull the brush toward me (toward the top in this picture) and apply more pressure to widen it as I go.


You can pull the brush at the same angle for every point or, as I did here, change the angles to suggest and enhance the curve of the surface. Each gives you a different look.

The surface below is a hard, dark, and metallic. The points showing the transition from light to shadow are short because the edge is sharp.
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I could very well have just drawn a straight line instead, but wanted to suggest a rough texture, like iron. I used the same brush here, and again started with the tip at the pointy end of each spike. But instead of pulling the brush backward, I swept it sideways to make a thicker sawtooth line.

I only notice now that I haven't done any cross-hatching lately. I can cross hatch; I guess I'm just going for a cleaner, slicker look than that. In general, when I find myself wondering if I should cross hatch an area, I decide I'm better off just making it black instead. I think spotting blacks is a dying art--notice how few areas of solid black there are in a typical page of contemporary comic strips or comic book panels--and I try to exercise it when I can. It really helps a picture jump off the paper.

None of this decisionmaking is really conscious. I don't spend a lot of time mulling it over (maybe that's one of my problems...). I do think about what and where the object is, and my pen or brush seems to know how to do the rest. I trust my tools.
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Oddly Ends

Oddly Normal creator Otis Frampton had posted some thoughts in response to my October 22 post in his own blog. While I touched on the idea that too few "mature" comics actually aspire to provide mature characters, plots and themes, Otis comes at it from the other direction: too few comics that should be for kids actually are.

Good point. While some sigh in frustration that comics aren't taken seriously as adult literature, it's worth remembering that they're still a terrific medium for juvenile literature--and there's no shame in that. As I replied to Otis, creating quality juvenile literature is hard and important, and I have great respect for people who do it with integrity and responsibility. Comics are big enough to embrace both--or should be.

Can't Think of a Good Segue to....
Family, friends, and regular readers know of my fondness for "Star Trek." Less frequently mentioned is my affection for Monty Python. I hope I'm forgiven, then, for finding the clip below irresistible. Thanks to my friend, cartoonist Mike Lynch, for the lead.




Sorry. I feel happy....
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Walking & Running vs. Cancer

There are two cancer-fighting events coming up that, if you're disposed to support such things, could use your participation or contribution.

The first I wrote about in August: an organization called the National Lung Cancer Partnership is holding four "Free to Breathe" walk-runs across the country this fall. This is their first year and it'd be great if it were successful enough to do a second one. Their first walk-run happened in September in Connecticut; future events are November 3 in Raleigh, N.C., November 4 in Philadelphia, and November 11 in Los Angeles. My sister Brenda ("Nurse Sis") is helping organize the L.A. event. Sign-up information is available at the link above. Brenda has also set up her own fundraising team called "Mom's Heroes." That's the link I'd click if I were you.

The National Lung Cancer Partnership is a non-profit lung cancer advocacy organization founded by physicians and researchers to increase understanding of how the disease affects women and men differently. Its mission is to decrease lung cancer deaths and help patients live longer and healthier lives through research, awareness and advocacy. Although I avoid endorsing anything, I can vouch for this group. They helped me help Mom.

The second event is a 5K run for Lindsay's Legacy in beautiful Tonawanda, New York on November 10. Lindsay MacIver died from alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma at the age of 21, and this run memorializes her life and struggle by raising money for childhood cancer research. Funds raised will be donated to the Rhabdomyosarcoma Research Laboratory of Dr. Frederic Barr at the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine and to Carly's Club, Roswell Park Cancer Institute's pediatric fundraising division. And there's a party afterward!

I learned of this effort through Lindsay's stepfather, Frank Mariani, a cartoonist, designer and illustrator I met through an online cartooning forum. This is the third year for Lindsay's Legacy, and I'm proud to vouch for Frank as well.

Through the generosity of Editor Charlie and my publisher, Harry N. Abrams, I was able to donate signed copies of Mom's Cancer to both events for them to use as their organizers see fit. These are all good people doing good work. I wish them perfect weather and great success.
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Eddie Campbell + A Bonus Tirade

I broke a rule. Turns out it's more of a "guideline" than an actual "rule," but I wanted to explain myself anyway.

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In a few long-ago posts I wrote about my tiny collection of original cartoon art. Knowing that I could easily get carried away and bankrupt my family, I established my rule: I would only acquire art from friends or artists with whom I'd developed a relationship. We don't have to be buddies forever; just a couple of e-mails or a nice 10-minute conversation will do. The point is that when possible I'd get pieces directly from the artists themselves and have an emotional connection to the work that conjured a good story or nice memory. Right now I've got Irwin Hasen, Raina Telgemeier, Otis Frampton, Ted Slampyak, Charles Schulz (acquired way before I made up the rule but still a nice story) and Winsor McCay (also pre-rule--but I would have broken it for him anyway).

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And now I've got Eddie Campbell. Here's the original Page 80 from Mr. Campbell's recent book, The Black Diamond Detective Agency.

Original p. 80, Black Diamond Detective
Agency, by Eddie Campbell. Captions and word
balloons were added in production.

I broke my rule for Mr. Campbell. Never met him, never corresponded with him. I saw him at ComicCon last July and almost approached his table, but he looked too busy and I never got back to him.

Eddie Campbell is probably best known for drawing From Hell, a retelling of the Jack the Ripper story written by Alan Moore. He's the creator of a long-running series titled Bacchus about the Greek gods living in modern times; a few semi-autobiographical works including The Fate of the Artist, which I thought was terrific; and The Black Diamond Detective Agency, based on an unproduced screenplay about a deadly train explosion in 1899 Missouri and a Hitchcock-esque man-on-the-run framed for it.

On paper, I'm not a particularly devout fan--haven't seen much Bacchus and didn't actually care for From Hell, which I found unengaging and lurid in a Bret Easton Ellis sort of way (I concede that if any subject cries out for carving up some women for fun, it's Jack the Ripper). However, Mr. Campbell's contributions are, I think, always excellent. Both his writing and artwork are interesting, witty, well-researched, and thoughtful. His confident, relaxed impressionistic style is built on a rock-solid foundation of craft. He's comfortable with ink, paint, collage, multi-media, typography: whatever he needs to get the effect he wants, he's not afraid to put it on the paper. He knows which rules to follow and break, and why. Everytime I read his work, I come away inspired to try two or three things I'd never thought of. In addition, I always get an absolute sense of integrity from his work.

Reading his blog for a while, I've also gotten a sense for Mr. Campbell as a person and I like the cut of his jib. He seems to be one of a small number of grown-ups working in the comics/cartooning/picture book/graphic novel business, and now I need to go on a little rant to explain what I mean by that.

Here's the Tirade
Comics are in an interesting, tricky place right now. First, there's the problem that much of the general public thinks comics are for kids. Some creators are striving mightily to have their comics taken seriously as literature, while others deliberately wallow in their low-class outsider status and confirm every slander against the entire medium. Others just don't care. Every few months for the past couple of decades, some reporter does a story with the headline "Pow! Bam! Comics Aren't Just for Kids Anymore!" Some of them have been about me. Every comics convention has at least one panel discussion on the topic of when comics will finally enter the mainstream. I've been on some of them.

As comics have been taken more seriously, they've drawn critics, students, analysts, theorists, and cranks. Much of their discourse happens on the Internet, though it occasionally spills over to print. There are people dedicated to making rules, defining terms, arguing what is or isn't a comic, deciding who's in or out of the club. Is it a comic strip, a comic book, an illustrated book, or a graphic novel? There are people who question whether "Prince Valiant" is a comic because it doesn't use word balloons or whether "Family Circus" is a comic because it doesn't show the passage of time via sequential panels. (Answer: they're comics. If your definition of comics excludes them the problem is yours, not theirs.) Webcomics spice the debate with arguments about what is or isn't a digital comic.

There are people who confidently declare that there are only eight kinds of this or four ways to do that, and whenever I hear that I immediately think of three other kinds of this and two different ways to do that, and then I realize what a waste of time it is. It all reminds me of a Victorian gentleman's butterfly collection in which the point isn't to appreciate butterflies or advance science, but to pin the right label on every specimen so it ends up in the proper cabinet drawer. That's the sport of it: getting the taxonomy right. And the way some of these guys talk, if they don't have a drawer for your butterfly, it might as well be a lemur.

In response to such as that, Mr. Campbell once assembled a tongue-in-cheek "Graphic Novel Manifesto." All 10 points can be read at the end of Mr. Campbell's Wikipedia entry; I'll just provide the first and last:

1. "Graphic novel" is a disagreeable term, but we will use it anyway on the understanding that graphic does not mean anything to do with graphics and that novel does not mean anything to do with novels.

10. The graphic novelist reserves the right to deny any or all of the above if it means a quick sale.

Yes! If I could be so bold as to sum up Mr. Campbell's perspective in one sentence, I'd say it's "Just shut up and make the things as best you can!" Don't worry about fitting into someone else's definitions or rules. Don't fret over whether its Number 6 or Number 7 on somebody's list of the only 12 things it could possibly be. It doesn't matter if it's a cartoon or comic or graphic novel. Like the shoe commercial said, Just Do It. If it's good, people will find it. None of them will care what it's called.

This was brought home to me in a small way at the San Diego Comic-Con last July, when I had dinner with Jeff Kinney, author of Diary of a Wimpy Kid. We were on our way to watch me lose two Eisner Awards and had a short chat about whether Jeff's book would be eligible for Eisner consideration next year. It looks like a comic--it's got little cartoon drawings with words coming out of characters' mouths--but, on the other hand, most of the book is typeset text (in a font made from Jeff's hand printing), so maybe it's more of an illustrated book or novel with pictures. As we were having this discussion, I realized two things: first, it was a ridiculous conversation that had absolutely no impact on what the book actually was and who would buy and read it; second, this was almost the only context in which that conversation had any merit whatsoever. The only people who should ever care are award administrators who need to decide which trophy to give you and bookstore clerks who need to figure out which shelf to put you on. It's otherwise useless, irrelevant, and probably counter-productive.

Anyway, in the weeks to come, we did figure out what to call Jeff's book: "Bestseller." Now with 26 weeks on the New York Times Bestseller List for Children's Chapter Books, including a stint at Number 1.

I've never liked the term "graphic novel," though I accept its practical utility. When I was making Mom's Cancer, I thought of it as a serial comic strip. In light of the rant above, then, I've been especially delighted that it's gotten some recognition from the American Library Association, the German Jugendliteraturpreis, and others as a work of youth literature. I didn't know I wrote a kids' book. Never intended it, my publisher never positioned it as such. It not only broke out of the graphic novel drawer others put it in, but the drawer I put it in. I think that's just wonderful.

Here are some questions I ask when reading anything--even a graphic novel. Does it reward my time and attention? Does it introduce ideas I've never had before? Is it skillfully made? On its own terms, does it accomplish its goals? Is it worth the $2, $12.95, or $200 I paid for it? Is it good?

Some people in comics/cartooning are doing excellent, ambitious, high-quality work. But far too often, based on what I see (which is far from the whole industry), a lot of creators demand literary respect but do little to earn it. They want to sit at the adult table but don't know how to use a knife and spoon. They have no idea what makes great literature great or why theirs falls short. They're their own worst enemies. Not all, but some. Many. Maybe most.

(What's funny is to read someone's high-minded academic defense of their comic as art and literature just as good as anything ever done by Hemingway or Joyce, and then go look at it and find an artless scrawl about a video-gaming slacker with a time machine and wise-cracking dinosaur. You're not part of the solution, dude, you're part of the problem.)

That's what I mean when I say Eddie Campbell is a grown-up. He not only knows how to use a knife and spoon but also a finger bowl and the funny little fish fork (metaphorically; I have no idea what his actual table manners are like). He's cranky. He's sat on too many panels dedicated to dissecting what graphic novels are and when they'll be respected as real books, and he's tired of it. Instead of endlessly debating, he works. He makes books with words and pictures that reward the reader's time and attention, introduce new ideas, accomplish their goals, and are worth the money people pay for them. Even more than his work, I appreciate and respect his attitude toward his work. It's worth breaking a rule--or bending a guideline--to have it in my home. It makes me happy.

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More Jugendliteraturpreis

I got a great note yesterday from Wolfgang Fuchs, the German translator of Mom's Cancer, following our win of the Deutscher Jugendliteraturpreis. Although I couldn't attend the awards ceremony in Frankfurt, a publicist for my German publisher Knesebeck e-mailed to tell me that Herr Fuchs accepted on our behalf with thoughtful and touching remarks in which he spoke of working on my book at the same time his wife was diagnosed with cancer. She's reportedly fine now, and I couldn't imagine a better acceptance speech. I thought Wolfgang's e-mail was very interesting and, with his permission, I've excerpted it below:

Heartfelt congratulations for your winning the Jugendliteraturpreis 2007 in the non-fiction section with "Mom's Cancer". It was the first time ever in the Award's 50 years history that a comic book won this award. And thus it has become proof positive of my conviction--stated in a number of publications, lectures and articles--that comics are not a medium that can be used for entertainment purposes only.

(Wolfgang and I are in strong agreement on that.)

I found the book straightforward and yet also highly emotional--which sometimes interrupted my work on the translation because it was so easy to identify with the characters and to be swept away by emotion. But--discounting for a moment the award the book brought--it was well worth it that you wrote and drew this book. And I am glad I could help in bringing it closer to German audiences.

(As am I. Wolfgang then provided me with a more natural translation of the award citation I ran through BabelFish's delightful online translator in my previous post:)

In the award-winning book "Mother's Cancer", translated by Wolfgang J. Fuchs in stylistic perfection, Brian Fies documents, diary-like, the problems in coping with his mother's getting cancer: This results in a moving non-fiction comic book which appropriately uses the medium for a sensitive treatment of the topic in an up-to-date format.

(And an explanation of "nut/mother":)

Incidentally, the translation of Mutter as "nut/mother" just shows an ambiguity of langauge that is also present in English. While nut means edible nut, crazy person, and the nut you screw on a bolt, in German "Mutter" in addition to meaning mother also is the word used to described the nut you screw on a bolt....

Wolfgang also described the Jugendliteraturpreis "trophy" to me, a 15-pound bronze statue of author Michael Ende's character Momo. A moment's googling turned up the picture below of a Deutscher Jugendliteraturpreis from 2005 that fits his description. What a fine work of art and honor to receive! Many thanks again to Wolfgang for his work and his gracious note.

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Deutscher Jugendliteraturpreis

If I read German press releases correctly, the German edition of Mom's Cancer, titled Mutter Hat Krebs, has just won the 2007 Deutscher Jugendliteraturpreis (German Youth Literature Prize) in the non-fiction ("Sachbuch") category.

The prizes, which are the most prestigious awards given for children's and young adult literature in Germany, were announced today at the Frankfurt Book Fair, the largest literary trade convocation in the world. It draws publishers looking to celebrate books, acquire properties and make deals in nearly every country and language on Earth. This is a big deal!

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Quoting from the press release: In dem prämierten Sachbuch Mutter hat Krebs, das von Wolfgang J. Fuchs stilsicher übersetzt wurde, dokumentiert Brian Fies tagebuchartig die Auseinandersetzung mit der Krebserkrankung seiner Mutter: "Entstanden ist ein bewegender Sachcomic, der das Medium angemessen nutzt, und eine sensible Bearbeitung des Themas im zeitgemäßen Format darstellt."

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Running that through the reliably hilarous AltaVista Babel Fish translator: In the praemierten special book Nut/Mother has Cancer, which was translated by Wolfgang J. Fuchs, documents Brian Fies diary-like the argument with the cancer illness of its nut/mother: "developed a moving Sachcomic, which uses the medium appropriately, and a sensitive treatment of the topic in the format up-to-date represents."

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I especially like the translation of "Nut/Mother." Mom would have found that apt.

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I was invited to attend the Frankfurt Book Fair and momentarily considered it, but the time/distance/cost equation was too hard to solve. I honestly thought my odds of winning were very low. Sadly, this continues my woeful pattern of only winning awards I don't show up for. I hate looking ungrateful. Now I'm thinking a fall vacation to Germany might have been very, very nice....

What an honor! This is another one of those moments when I really can't believe how far my story about Mom and my family has come. My thanks to my German publisher Knesebeck and Herr Fuchs, who must have done a bang-up job of translating. I suspect he even improved me in spots. I'm also very grateful to everyone at Abrams Books and my editor Charlie Kochman, who made it all happen.

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More later, probably.

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S.F. 49ers 7, Baltimore Ravens 9

A portrait of failure:

I yelled "De-fense!" as loud as I could but it wasn't good enough. I'm sorry I let my team down.
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Dreams

Although I sometimes remember and enjoy my dreams, they're generally worthless to me as a source of inspiration. They're too random and unstructured. The rules of causality don't apply. I've never awoken from a dream with a flash of inspiration, jotted a note on the pad beside my bed, and had it be good, useful, or even very interesting in the light of day.

I always figured that was because the dreaming brain makes it up as it goes along. I assumed that, like a three-year-old telling a story of unrelated events linked by "and then ... and then ... and then ...," dreams aren't created with any particular structure, narrative, or destination in mind. It's as if that process demands some higher-brain storytelling function that just isn't engaged while asleep.

That's what I thought until last night, when I had a dream that was a brilliant short story with a beginning, middle, and a boffo surprise ending with an O. Henry twist that tied all the previous events together. I don't remember all the details but, when the dream climaxed with my car getting towed away, it was just the perfect ironic, inevitable culmination of that story. Perfect.

Now the question is: was this story really such a nifty little gem of narrative genius, or did I just dream that it was? I'll never know. In any case, it made me rethink some of my assumptions about dreaming.

By the way, I have had lucid dreams before. That's a dream in which you realize you're dreaming, and you're suddenly a god with a universe at your command. You can fly, breathe underwater, soar into space, all the while thinking, "This is just a dream, might as well enjoy it." Your own private Star Trek holodeck.

Physicist Richard Feynman wrote in his autobiography of disciplining his mind so he could dream lucidly at will. Every night he went to sleep knowing he'd be the hero in his own romantic fantasy adventures, and he said it was terrific fun for a while. Eventually, though, it began to wear on him, leaving him feeling tired, irritable, out of sorts. He finally realized his mind required the down time he was denying it, and stopped. The brain needs what it needs.

Although I've seldom found dreams useful, I do get my best creative work done first thing in the morning, still lying in bed about three-fourths awake. Cartoonist Lynn Johnston and others have written the same thing. I think the mind can still access the undisciplined freedom of dreams and yet is awake enough to guide it in productive directions. I'll often lie there semi-dozing and finally sit up to write down three or four ideas that are actually good. I've gotten adept at using that state of mind well. In some ways, it's the most productive part of my day.

At least that's what I tell my wife.
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What My Harvey Award Looks Like

Pretty cool, huh?

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UPDATE: At my friend Sherwood's request, clicking on the photo links to a larger version of the same. It's even cooler.

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An Illustrated History

I have better regular readers than I deserve. I've not been particularly blog inspired and have been otherwise busy for several days, and appreciate the loyalty of all six of you.

When I was a teenager trying to figure out how these things called "comics" were made, my local public library was a lode of meager treasure. The "treasure" was big, beautiful books about cartoons, comic books and comic strips, some written by or including information straight from the creators themselves. It was a meager trove because the library only had about five of them. I knew exactly where they were, had a favorite chair by a window next to their shelf, and spent hours reading and re-reading the same five books. I mourned when one was checked out and mourned more as, one by one, they were pulled from circulation over the years.

Of course those were the pre-Internet Dark Ages. Now we have the miracle/curse of eBay, which is where I stumbled across one of those jewels from my youth and bought it for less than its 1974 cover price of $15. It's The Comics: An Illustrated History of Comic Strip Art by Jerry Robinson, and I'm pleased to say it still holds up. It offers a terrific overview and sampling of newspaper comics from 1896 to the then-present. It's probably where I first saw Winsor McCay's "Little Nemo" and Herriman's "Krazy Kat." Best of all, it contains full-page essays by Milton Caniff, Lee Falk, Charles Schulz, Mort Walker, Chic Young, Hal Foster, Walt Kelly, and others that I remember absorbing through my pores as a kid.

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Do kids ever actually spend afternoons hanging out at the library anymore? (Maybe they never did; maybe it was just me. Little freak....)

I met Jerry Robinson at Comic-Con in 2006 and wish I'd remembered to mention this book to him instead of whatever lame hero worship I managed to stammer out. He's had a heck of a career, from his very early contributions to Batman (creating or co-creating Robin and the Joker) to editorial cartoons to syndicated comics to, obviously, comics historian. Maybe someday I'll get another chance to thank him. This book was important to me and I'm thrilled to be reunited with it.

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Rachel's Dad's Cancer

Last November, a Georgetown University master's candidate named Rachel Plotnick wrote to tell me that her father had recently died of lung cancer and she was working on a thesis on the topic of comics and cancer. She asked me some questions and we exchanged correspondence that amounted to a mini-interview. The results of her work are now available at Gnovis, Georgetown's online journal of communication, culture and technology. It was also posted in two parts on YouTube, to which I've linked below.

(By the way, Rachel explained to me that the YouTube images are grainier than she'd like and she had to swap out the music she really wanted to use to avoid copyright concerns. She promised to send me a "good" version; however, I think this one is fine, and also the only one I can link to, so....)






There are two things going on in this video, which runs about 17 minutes total. At the beginning and end, Rachel takes a scholarly look at how and why people tell stories like Mom's Cancer, and why comics is an apt medium with which to do it. She writes about the role of families as stewards of memory and tradition, and the responsibility within families to tell our unique stories and pass them down. At the end, she writes about the power of cartoons as icons that allow readers to project their own lives into, and more closely identify with, the story they're reading. I certainly think that's true.

The heart of the video shows Rachel applying her academic insights to her story of "Dad's Cancer." I wouldn't be writing about if I didn't think she did an extraordinary job. Purely from a creative standpoint, it's interesting for me to see how Rachel approached and solved some of the same questions and problems I faced. As I mentioned to her, I'm envious of the tools of motion and sound she has at her disposal that I didn't, and I think she puts them to good use. It's nice work, and Rachel was very gracious to acknowledge my work as part of it.

It won't be to everyone's taste--nothing is--but if you appreciated Mom's Cancer and have 17 minutes to spare, I think you'll appreciate "Dad's Cancer" as well.

Some Recent Mentions

British writer Jan Marshall left a comment on my previous post asking permission to borrow my artwork to accompany her post about Mom's Cancer. Of course that's fine--reproducing an excerpt of a work for the purposes of criticism is allowed under copyright law and I'm happy to comply--but I always appreciate it when someone asks. It strikes me as both professional and polite.

Anyway, Jan has now posted a nice review of my book on her blog (dated Sept. 24), which I appreciate very much. I also read quite a bit more of her blog and found it very engaging, with topics touching on her 99-year-old grandfather, books, photography, poetry, and some good opinionated information on cancer. Thanks Jan.

There are some nice short write-ups about the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art (MoCCA) exhibit "Infinite Canvas: The Art of Webcomics," to which I contributed four original pages from Mom's Cancer, by The Beat's omnipresent Heidi MacDonald, Pulp Secret, Wizard, and Fleen. the latter focuses on curator Jennifer Babcock, who was about as nice and personable as she could be with me. A lot of artists and works are represented in this big exhibit and, at first glance, I don't see a single mention of Mom's Cancer in any of that brief coverage. That's fine. It still looks like a pretty great show and I hope anyone in the New York area checks it out... and reports back to me.

Comics Reporter Tom Spurgeon recently summarized the results of the Harvey Awards, including the one I won and the two I lost. I understand that my trophy has made its way from Cartoon America author Harry Katz, who very kindly accepted it on my behalf, to the desk of Editor Charlie, who is holding it hostage until he can have it professionally photographed with the other Abrams Harvey Award won by Dan Nadel for Art Out of Time. I think sometimes Charlie also closes his door, gently lays the awards on the floor, and rolls around on them. When mine arrives, I intend to inspect it for unhygienic smudges.

Harvey Award results were also summed up by ICV2 News, which I mention only because their story's third graf begins, "Other key 2007 Harvey winners include: Brian Fies...." I like the word "key." It makes my ego puffy.

Finally, the Oregon Statesman-Journal published an obituary for my friend Arnold Wagner, who died August 31. I noticed something with Arnold's passing that also struck me after syndicate editor Jay Kennedy's death last March: the number of people who came forward with nearly identical stories of friendship, encouragement, and generosity was enormous. A lot of people who didn't know each other and might have assumed their relationship was unique started comparing notes and realizing, No, Arnold and Jay treated everyone like that. That's a really nice way to be remembered, I think.
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Avast Ye Bloomin' Cockroaches

For the desk-bound pirate in your life.

Dead men tab no tables... nor apparently backspace, spellcheck, ten-key, or ctl-alt-del, either.

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Arr? Aye!

Nearly as important as defending the right of free speech is defending the right of very, very silly speech, an aptly timed example of which is International Talk Like a Pirate Day, Wednesday, September 19.

Wikipedia summarizes the growth of this most wonderful and pointless of holidays, from its humble origin in 1995 to its emergence as a worldwide phenomenon following columnist Dave Barry's endorsement in 2002. Note that it is not International Dress Like a Pirate Day, although I can't imagine how anyone would object if you did. People wear shamrocks on St. Patrick's Day and Santa caps at Christmas; who's to snicker if you show up for work with an eyepatch, parrot,* buccaneer boots and cutlass? Especially a cutlass.

So this International Talk Like a Pirate Day, please remember to answer your phone with a hearty "Ahoy!" Begin sentences with a growly "Arrh!" Refer to family and co-workers as "matey" and "scurvy dog." Work the word "Avast!" into casual conversation.

If we're afraid to talk like pirates, the terrorists win.


*As with bunnies at Easter or dalmatians following the release of a new Disney movie, the American Humane Association cautions the public not to purchase parrots just to celebrate International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Very often, such parrots become neglected as the festive joy of the holiday season fades, with many winding up in animal shelters or abandoned to join marauding flocks of feral parrots. Participants may want to consider renting or leasing a parrot for celebratory purposes from a reputable parrot broker. Please be a responsible parrot owner/renter.
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More Cartoons Matter

Some follow-ups to my previous post, from The Times of London.

Reaction from cartoonist Lars Vilks:

Mr Vilks arrived back in Sweden from Germany yesterday and made light of the assassination call. “I suppose that this makes my art project a bit more serious. It is also good to know how much one is worth,” he said.

“We must not give in. I’m starting to grow old. I could die at any time — it’s not a catastrophe.”
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From the same article:

A leading Swedish daily newspaper, Dagens Nyheter, yesterday republished the cartoon in an act of solidarity with the local paper that first printed it.

Thorbjörn Larsson, the editor, said in an opinion piece: “We live in a country where freedom of expression is not dictated by fundamentalists, nor by governments. To me, publishing it was the obvious thing to do.”

The daily newspaper Svenska Dagbladet urged Swedes to defend their right to free speech in the face of religious fanaticism. It said: “Freedom of expression is not a privilege for the media companies and journalists but a guarantee that citizens can have different impressions, numerous sources of information and inspiration, as well as the possibility of drawing their own conclusions.”

Go Sweden.


UPDATE: Just found this by Oliver Kamm, writing in the magazine Index on Censorship:

The notion that free speech, while important, needs to be held in balance with the avoidance of offence is question-begging, because it assumes that offence is something to be avoided. Free speech does indeed cause hurt – but there is nothing wrong in this. Knowledge advances through the destruction of bad ideas. Mockery and derision are among the most powerful tools in that process. Consider Voltaire’s Candide, or H L Mencken’s reports – saturated in contempt for religious obscurantists who opposed the teaching of evolution in schools – on the Scopes ‘Monkey’ Trial.

It is inevitable that those who find their deepest convictions mocked will be offended, and it is possible (though not mandatory, and is incidentally not felt by me) to extend sympathy and compassion to them. But they are not entitled to protection, still less restitution, in the public sphere, even for crass and gross sentiments. A free society does not legislate in the realm of beliefs; by extension, it must not concern itself either with the state of its citizens’ sensibilities. If it did, there would in principle be no limit to the powers of the state, even into the private realm of thought and feeling.

The debate has not been aided – it has indeed been severely clouded – by an imprecise use of the term ‘respect’. If this is merely a metaphor for the free exercise of religious and political liberty, then it is an unexceptionable principle, but also an unclear and redundant usage. Respect for ideas and those who hold them is a different matter altogether. Ideas have no claim on our respect; they earn respect to the extent that they are able to withstand criticism.

Cartoons Matter

I think this is important:

By MAGGIE MICHAEL
The Associated Press

CAIRO, Egypt -- The leader of al-Qaida in Iraq offered money for the murder of a Swedish cartoonist and his editor who recently produced images deemed insulting to Islam, according to a statement carried by Islamist Web sites Saturday.

In a half hour audio file entitled "They plotted yet God too was plotting," Abu Omar al-Baghdadi also named the other insurgent groups in Iraq that al-Qaida was fighting and promised new attacks, particularly against the minority Yazidi sect.

"We are calling for the assassination of cartoonist Lars Vilks who dared insult our Prophet, peace be upon him, and we announce a reward during this generous month of Ramadan of $100,000 for the one who kills this criminal," the transcript on the Web site said.

The al-Qaida leader upped the reward for Vilks' death to $150,000 if he was "slaughtered like a lamb" and offered $50,000 for the killing of the editor of Nerikes Allehanda, the Swedish paper that printed Vilks' cartoon of the Prophet Muhammad with a dog's body on Aug. 19.

Vilks said from Sweden he believed the matter of his cartoons had been blown out of proportion.

"We have a real problem here," Vilks told The Associated Press by telephone. "We can only hope that Muslims in Europe and in the Western world choose to distance themselves from this and support the idea of freedom of expression..."

...Al-Baghdadi added in his message that if the "crusader state of Sweden" didn't apologize, his organization would also attack major companies.

"We know how to force you to retreat and apologize and if you don't, wait for us to strike the economy of your giant companies including Ericsson, Scania, Volvo, Ikea, and Electrolux," he said....

More here.

I'm struck by the fact that al-Qaida conveys the generous spirit of Ramadan not by offering mercy to those who offend them, but by providing an extra large bounty on their heads. Not being raised on a farm, I can only wonder what lamb slaughtering involves and why it's worth an additional $50,000. I was unaware until now that Sweden had taken part in the Crusades. And I believe "we have a real problem here" is a masterpiece of understatement. Indeed, we have an enormous problem here.

If Western Civilization means anything, it's that freedom of speech, press, and religion are inviolable. Anyone offended can peacefully protest, boycott products or media, and express their competing point of view. Free speech carries risk and consequences, and I have little patience or respect for those who whine "censorship" whenever someone objects to their message. You have a right to speak and others have a right to disagree. If Al-Baghdadi's reference to Ericcson, Scania, Volvo, Ikea, and Electrolux were a call to boycott (which I definitely don't infer from context), that's fair play. But he can not put a price on writers' and artists' heads with a bonus for "extra messy."

Well, obviously he can, but it's barbaric and wrong. This is so self-evident to me that I simply can't understand anyone in the West who fails to regard it as a serious strike at civilization's most essential foundations. Or more: anyone who apologizes for it, expands definitions of hate speech to embrace it, or reassigns or fires cartoonists and their editors to pacify it. The timidity and cowardice I see astounds me.

I can't imagine any circumstance in which I'd draw a cartoon defaming The Prophet (PBUH), any more than I would Jesus Christ or the Buddha. I just wouldn't do that. But today, Ich bin ein Swedish cartoonist.
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Home Again

Just returned home from a great summers-end vacation that included a visit to my sisters in Southern California. However, for the most part it did not include easy Internet access, which explains my lower-than-usual profile 'round these parts. I would have mentioned my plans in advance except I've got this thing about not announcing to the world that my house is going to be vacant for a week so everyone is welcome to drop by and help themselves to my stuff.

It was great to come back to all the nice comments on my previous post, plus some additional e-mails from friends and strangers alike. I've since learned that Harry Katz--author of the book Cartoon America, which was also published by Abrams and nominated for a Harvey Award--attended the Harveys and very graciously accepted awards on behalf of Dan Nadel and me. I shared a table with Harry and his family at the Eisner Awards, really enjoyed meeting him, and appreciate his being there for me now. He has generously promised to send me my Harvey Award as soon as I pay a reasonable ransom.

A Miniature Interlude:
So we're on vacation and my wife and I want to go one way and our two daughters another. My wife has a cell phone and I give the kids mine in case we need to communicate. "What if someone calls?" "Don't worry. No one else even knows my cell number. I don't give it to anyone. The only people who could possibly call you is us." Four minutes later: deedledeedledeedle. It's Editor Charlie calling from New York.

What really puzzles me is how Charlie got my cell phone number. There's no way I let him have it.

Something more substantial later....

UPDATE: I edited this post and removed some comments because a remark meant as a joke was taken seriously by some friends. Dry humor is hard to communicate online, and the words that sounded one way in my head obviously didn't come off the same on the page. Sorry 'bout that; entirely my fault. Do over.
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Hey, I Won!

Late-breaking results posted on Newsarama (thanks, Newsarama!) tell me I won the 2007 Harvey Award for "Best New Talent."

My wife says Funny, it looks like the same old talent to her....

It's a great thrill. Thanks to my readers, thanks to the Harvey voters, and congratulations to my Abrams-mate Dan Nadel for winning "Best Biographical, Historical or Journalistic Presentation" for his great book Art Out of Time: Unknown Comic Visionaries 1900-1969. My compliments also to the other winners.

Hoorah!

Misc.

I was just absent-mindedly reading some light news stories when I came across the most remarkable sentence. I had to stop and read it over three times before I believed that it really meant what I thought it did. The sentence began:

"Michael Sands, a publicist whose clients have included the divorce attorney for Britney Spears' ex-husband Kevin Federline, said..."

Parse that: Britney married Kevin. Who has a divorce attorney. Who has his or her own publicist. Who gets quoted in a story that has nothing to do with Britney, Kevin, or Kevin's attorney.

What a world, what a world.

Still, publicist-to-the-stars'-husbands'-attorneys Michael Sands is doing something right. He's obviously on at least one reporter's contact list, filed under "Desperately Need a Quote from Someone Distantly Related to the Entertainment Industry Late Friday Afternoon When No One Else Picks Up the Phone."

Harvey Awards will be presented at the Baltimore Comic-Con tomorrow night. I'm up for three Harveys and am pretty certain I have no chance at two (remember, I have an excellent track record predicting the results of awards for which I'm nominated). The third one ... honestly ... immodestly ... maybe I have a shot. A month ago I hoped to make it to Baltimore and find out for myself, but ultimately couldn't. Editor Charlie thought he might go but he's not free either. So if anyone wants to attend an awards banquet, say a few words on my behalf if I win, and then mail a Harvey Award to me (I'll pay postage!), please feel free. If you're ruggedly handsome with thick dark hair and a strong chin, you can even pretend to be me. Sign some books, draw some doodles. I won't mind.

More seriously, I do wish I could be there. As I wrote a while ago, if someone honors your work with an award nomination, it just seems minimally polite to show up. I want to reiterate that I don't take the Harvey Award nominations for granted, I'm very grateful for the recognition, and incredibly appreciative. My absence is in no way meant to be cavalier or disrespectful. It's just life.

Mo MoCCA

Friend of the Blog Amanda ("Shrinking Indigo") replied to the previous post to point out that my work is on the poster for the MoCCA exhibit. Why, so it is.

She also promised to check out the show and let me know how it looks. That'd be great! ...and same goes for anyone else in the vicinity of 594 Broadway in the next few months. Right now I don't plan to visit New York City before next January, but y'never know. I like the town and it would be fun.

Thanks, Indigo.

MoCCA: Infinite Canvas

I see that New York's Museum of Comics and Cartoon Art (MoCCA) is promoting the exhibition Infinite Canvas: The Art of Webcomics, to which I've contributed four original pages from Mom's Cancer. The show will be up September 14 through January 14, 2008, with an opening reception on September 13. Unfortunately I won't be there, but I know some people who might make it and report back to me.

"The exhibit explores three aspects of online comics," reads MoCCA's blurb. "The unique format and design of webcomics, their appeal to niche audiences, and the transitions between web and print comics." Curator Jennifer Babcock further explains, "webcomics are free of the space constraints and editorial censorship to which printed comics are often subjected...." I agree with that sentiment completely. I also think that freedom to break all the rules doesn't necessarily carry an obligation to do so.

Let me back up to explain that the exhibition's title, "Infinite Canvas," comes (to the best of my knowledge) from Scott McCloud's notion that the Internet provides just that: an infinite canvas. Online, there's no need to restrict a comic to three or four panels, stick to traditional comic book page layouts, or draw in black and white. No need for most of the artistic constraints imposed on comics by 19th-century printing press technology. No need to avoid words that might emotionally scar five-year-old Suzy or give Grandma the vapors. We're finally free. Free!

So why do so few cartoonists take advantage of the limitless space, time and language available to them? Why do so many webcomics look exactly like their print counterparts? Why did mine?

I can't speak for anyone else--although I have some notions--but I put considerable thought into how I wanted Mom's Cancer to interact with the electronic medium that transmitted it. First, I designed the pages to be proportional to a least-common-denominator computer monitor. I wanted anyone on any computer to be able to read each page without scrolling or clicking. That in turn mandated the size I needed to draw to produce art that would be clear and legible at on-screen resolution. My decision was a deliberate break from the infinite canvas idea, which can obviously demand significant reader interaction (and allow the cartoonist to play with story flow as scrolling reveals and conceals information). Those were features I willingly gave up so that my readers could apprehend each individual page as a unit of story--a thought, an idea, a chunk of time. I did that on purpose.

Also, I always had hopes that Mom's Cancer might see print. I didn't know how, I couldn't imagine who would publish such a book, but I wanted to keep my options open. I drew in black and white, colored in the cyan-magenta-yellow palette needed for press, and saved high-resolution versions of everything (not high enough, I later learned, but that's another sad story). I think that same hope motivates more web cartoonists than would admit it, and partly explains why so few break out of the shackles of print: they want it. Print still matters.

For similar reasons, I wrote and drew Mom's Cancer to be as all-ages as possible. It's an adult story, but I wanted it accessible to readers from young children to great-grandparents. There's not a dirty word in it (I actually thought long and hard about the "My God" on Page 99 but couldn't conceive of anything better). I fought my first impulse to draw it dark and gothic with scritchy-scratchy cross-hatching, partly because I wanted it to look as friendly and familiar as a 1950s' comic strip. I wanted people who'd never read a comic or graphic novel to get comfortable and ease into the story, where I hoped to hit 'em between the eyes. The web gave me complete freedom--including the freedom to approach the audience however I wanted.

Still, I share McCloud's frustration (as I perceive it) that almost no one has grabbed webcomics by the horns and exploited the new medium's potential to create something never seen before. Literature done in a new visual language that couldn't have existed until today. Why do so many webcomics consist of tiny, repetitive, static panels of talking heads when they could be ... ANYTHING? I would very much like to see that someday--maybe even try to do it. But that's not what Mom's Cancer was intended to be. I've always seen it less as a webcomic than as a comic that happened to be on the web, and never pretended it was anything else.
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More Arnold Wagner

One of the Internet forums Arnold participated in was Toon Talk, hosted by cartoonist Darrin Bell (Candorville, Rudy Park). Another poster there, Armand Anloague, compiled some of Arnold's Toon Talk contributions over the years and I thought they were worth sharing, both for their content and the insight they provide about their author. With thanks to Armand, here's Arnold:

ON STRIPS VS. PANELS: "I've always seen a correlation between cartoonists and comics. The gag cartoonist is doing standup and the the strip cartoonist is doing situation comedy. Not everyone can do both. I'd make a third classification for a few like Wiley. There are comedians who don't really fit into either class. Fanny Brice, Red Skelton, and Carol Burnett are examples. They have a repertory of characters they use without order or set frequency. Wiley obviously does that. Larson also did it to an extent, his cows were the most noticeable example, but you can go through one of his collections and make a list.

As gag cartoonists most of us never develop a strong connection with the audience, not the way a strip artist can, or the way Wiley or Larson could (can't believe I'm putting those two in the same category). That isn't to say the strip artist has it easier, developing characters that the reader connects with isn't easy."

ON LEGACY STRIPS [Note to those not hip to comics lingo: a "legacy strip" is a still-published comic that has outlived its creators, e.g., Blondie, Dick Tracy, etc.]: "This plays into the myth that it's the legacy strips that are keeping newcomers out of syndication. Syndicates don't have a limit for signing strips. They sign those they think they can sell. If they haven't signed a strip that's the reason. They may be wrong, but it has nothing to do with numbers, budget is the only other factor involved.

Actually the legacy strips help with that. The profit from them pays for launching new material. If we knocked out all the strips not done by their creators tomorrow it wouldn't change anything for the hopefuls, unless it makes it harder. It would be huge benefit to those already syndicated who don't have enough papers to make a decent living, but have a good product, and I'm all for that."

ON HUMOR VS. GAGS: "There are basically two kinds of strips, those that use gags, and those that use humorous situations that we can identify with. In the long run humor is better than gags. Strips that become popular are ones that we identify with. Appeal tops funny every time. In addition to Dilbert another strip that takes a lot of hits here in a mostly male forum is Cathy, and yet the feature has a huge and very loyal fan base who identify with it."

"A mistake too many beginners make is thinking they need a knock 'em dead gag every day. If that were true, or even half true, Mutt and Jeff would still be syndicated as one of the hottest strips around. Generally that approach may result in a strip that's hot for a year or so then fades rapidly without ever building a strong following. If you look at the top strips they have a much larger repetoire. That's true of gag cartoons, stand up comics, sit-coms, the works. They do the ironic, the satiric think bits, the pathos, bathos, maybe even a touch of tragedy now and then. They may be nostalgic or sentimental. Variety makes them real."

ON STYLE: "Without naming the guilty, copying a style is not good. At least four features looked so much alike I had to check to see if they were by the same person, they weren't. A sophisticated and fairly illustrative style hooked to slapstick humor kills the gag. Colored art that is busy and doesn't have good contrast is hard to read, and you only have a couple seconds to get your premise across. Contrast and simplicity are better. If you have to use templates or tracing to make the strip you're wasting your time, and don't fool yourself by comparing it to Dilbert. He spent a lot of time developing his style.

Assuming that the goal is syndication (and that may be a false assumption in some cases) there were features that would have failed simply due to the language or the situations. Others used formats that wouldn't fit in papers. Old gags, gags that telegraphed the punch line, and captions that should have been polished for better tempo and impact, were also very common. Never use the first idea you come up with."

ON WORKING: "The one thing never to do is stop and wait for the muse to return. In any of the arts the difference between a pro and an amateur is that the amateur waits for their muse, the pro does their best and works through it."

"The reasons vary, but it's always because of pressure we put on ourselves making us tighten up. Some of the work I've been happiest with was when things went wrong and I had to get something for a client yesterday. No time to redo or be careful, quality wasn't the issue, having something on paper was."

Arnold Wagner

For several reasons, I'm sorry to follow my previous post with this one. I heard this morning that a good artist, cartoonist, historian and terrific friend of mine, Arnold Wagner, has entered hospice care after fighting cancer for a long time. His daughter Rachel posted the news at an Internet watering hole Arnold and I both frequent, and I've already replied privately to Arnold but wanted to say a bit about him here, too.

Arnold was one of the first professionals to read Mom's Cancer and encourage me strongly and frequently to pursue it, for which I was happy to mention him in my book's acknowledgements. He's an old-school cartoonist whose career goes back decades and who brought a lifetime of experience, authority, and real-world saavy to any discussion he entered. He co-authored The Complete Idiot's Guide to Cartooning, a how-to book I know he wasn't entirely happy with (lots of editorial interference, I gather) and which frankly isn't the best of its type but nevertheless captured some of his wisdom and wit.

His Amazon.com bio says this about him: "Arnold Wagner is a cartoonist, gag writer and cartoon scholar, whose work has been featured in many publications, including: IF Science Fiction, The Saturday Evening Post, Writer's Digest, Boys Life, Parade, Suburbia Today, The National Enquirer, Golf World, Broadway Laughs, and the New Yorker. In addition, a great deal of his work has appeared in the syndicated strip 'The Flintstones.' Arnold has always held an interest in historical, technical, and artistic subjects relating to cartooning, and has collected a great deal of material along those lines."

I got to know Arnold the same way I've gotten to know a lot of people in the past few years: online. Never met him in person. As I mentioned in my note to him this morning, I wish I'd had a chance to buy him lunch and run my fingers through his extensive collection of antique and exotic pen nibs. But I think you really can get to know a person well through writing--perhaps better than face to face--and I'm happy for the relationship we have and proud to have him as a friend.

Arnold is a great man and a great gentleman. We all face our ends someday and, if this is his, I hope it comes with all the ease, grace and love he deserves. My best to him, his wife Connie, and his family.

A card I drew for Arnold when he was in the hospital for
a short stay last year. I'm sure he's still giving 'em hell.

UPDATE: Arnold passed away the evening of August 31. I will miss him keenly for a long time.

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