The secrets. I has them now. THE SECRETS ARE MINE.
The book: Editorial Cartooning. The author: Dick Spencer III, School of Journalism, State University of Iowa. Published by The Iowa State College Press, 1949.
Since I've managed to acquire just about every modern art technique book I'm likely to want I have begun to be fond of vintage art instruction books. Bob Ross, Mark Crilley, Christopher Hart, all those, have defined this genre, but even they stand on others' shoulders: Jon Nagy, Bill Alexander, and others. Those forbears are oftimes as interesting as their intellectual descendants.
Never heard of this Dick Spencer III guy, though. I intend to find out. Important enough to author a college-published book about the subject.
I have some suspicion that the secrets may be beyond their pull-dates though.
Earlier tonight, at Powell's during Book Church, I stumbled on a couple of books by a man whose work was instrumental in giving us Disney via the public library.
Edwin George Lutz was a commercial artist and illustrator who authored several books on art and how to draw between 1913 and 1933. In 1913, the first of his books, What To Draw And How To Draw It, taught common-sense ways to render birds, houses, animals, people, and expressions in simple, cartoonish style. His 1921 work, Drawing Made Easy, showed the learner how to draw more realistic images of people and animals.
Latterly, facsimile editions of those books were produced by (respectively) LomArt and North Light Books and look like this:
The illustrations are charming, whimsical and very straightforward, clearly showing how, by breaking down natural shapes into shapes the beginner could draw, more complex forms could be built. This is a common concept that the beginning artist is introduced to; the genius of Lutz was his warm, accessable style.
The connection to Disney comes from a book published in 1920, Animated Cartoons: How They Are Made, Their Origin and Development. This particular volume passed into the hands of one Walt Disney, who was at the time making his living in the commercial art trade in Kansas City during the 1920s, under the aegis of the Kansas City Public Library. Legend has it that Disney learned his animation technique from this very book.
The result is a lesson in two things: that the chancest exposure to literature can lead to absolute wonder (what if Walt hadn't seen the book?), and the importance a public library can have in self-education at large (what if KC had an inadequate (or no) public library).
If you love Disney, thank the E.G. Lutz ... and the public library.
The actor and entertainer, Dick Gautier, who died last week aged 85, was, as is glibly bandied about, known for a few things. He incarnated, so to say, the robotic CONTROL secret agent and KAOS defector known simply as "Hymie" in Get Smart. He also memorably embodied Robin Hood is the far, far too-short (as in less than one season) Mel Brooks-created TV spoof When Things Were Rotten (a show which needs no introduction or explanation to people I know, which should clue one as to what sorts of friends I prefer to have). He also, through the 70s and 80s, appeared innumerable times as a TV guest star, either in a drama or comedy or as a guest on a talk show or a panelist on a game show. He was kind of everywhere for a while.
What was elided from the obituaries and not commonly known seems to be that he excelled, in his way, at caricature, and had more than a modicum of talent as a cartoonist. He also, from 1985 through the 1990s, produced a number of how-to-art books, starting with The Art of Caricature in 1985. I found two of his several how-to books at Powells last weekend. Here they are.
The Creative Cartoonist is a general approach to cartooning for pleasure and possibly for profession, and Drawing and Cartooning 1,001 Caricatures further expands his record of knowledge of that particular art.
Both books are really quite delightful. Gautier has a casual, self-deprecating style of writing that wins over the reader by presenting the text as though it was being spoken by a very nice acquaintance who loves to draw, loves to talk about it, and likes to show other people. His style is very low-pressure: he wants you to draw but he wants you to draw at the level that'll make you happy. And though his directions are simple, they aren't simplistic. Gautier clearly was someone who loved to draw and loved to think about about drawing when he wasn't.
The book The Creative Cartoonist starts, as many of them do, with the head. He shows you simple ways to construct a face and how many shapes you can make one of …
… a simple yet broad catalogue of standard facial expressions …
… and basic instructions on how to make it realistic and how to make it cartoony. There is nothing complicated here but if you follow his directions and practice and have fun at it, he gets you started on a good foot.
There are people who draw for accuracy and realism, and people who just want to draw, have a little fun, and people who want to draw just to impress their friends. The Creative Cartoonist is a fine book for anyone who wants to start casual.
For those who want to kick it up to a certain level, Drawing and Cartooning 1,001 Caricatures has a lot to offer as well. Reading the text, I got the idea that Gautier had a certain sensitive spot about caricaturing; it is a lampooning of the subject and, as such, has to be handled with a soft touch. It can be a great and funny homage or jump a fine line and border on an insult with a touch of viciousness. Gauthier needn't have worried, though: these caricatures of actors Dennis Franz and Roy Scheider come through with a sense of affection for the subjects:
And, of course, what book of caricature is complete without Jay "Why the Long Face?" Leno?
All drawings were, of course, made by the author, which is why I like that back cover above so much. The portrait of Leno in the upper left, the realistic one, is outstandingly well-done, I thought. The distortions, while expected, bring a certain sense of style to the caricature … they show an artist who is confident in his materials. That's what I expecially love to see.
Gauthier's caricaturing system works by studying the face and deciding what are the most remarkable features (what he calls 'dominant') and the less remarkable features (what he calles 'subdominant') and working within that hierarchy. Accentuate the dominant features and have the subdominant work with them. The result is a caricatured face which, while looking little like the reality, has enough of the reality in it so that there's no mistaking the identity of the personality.
He also introduces us to three levels of caricature. The first, portrait charge, is clearly caricature but is only slightly distorted. These would make a good cartoon character version. The second is the straight-up caricature, and the third would be an impressionistic rendering, where the dominant features command and the subdominant all but fall away.
To show he's a good sport, he did himself: Here is Dick Gautier in portrait charge version:
… And here he is in caricature and in full-on impressionistic mode.
By his reasoning, his face is full of dominant features save the nose ("but I'm working on it", he mocks himself in the text), so in the impressionistic version, the nose utterly disappears.
Dick Gautier wasn't widely known for his art, and that's kind of a shame, because he has much to offer the beginner. His friendly style and accessible instruction are the perfect approach for someone who's afraid of doing their own art. He's no Andrew Loomis, but Loomis is the Holy Grail. Gauthier is a pal who you can hang around with … and who will take you into the art world gently, with no pretensions.
Right now, on one of the endcaps on one of the aisles of graphic novel and comics rows in the Coffee Room of Powell's City of Books, there are 6 roughly drawn yet thoughtfully-done and skillfully-executed cartoons. Here's one set.
There are six of them (they're still there as of last weekend), three on one side, three on the other. They appear to be drawn on imprecisely-trimmed foamcore board with a Sharpie. They seem to be very zeitgeist inspired, some obviously, others more indirectly.
Here's the other set:
Let's take 'em one-by-one. Top, left:
BLM. No explanation needed by now, I trust.
Next:
The Political Is Personal. For a variety of reasons I won't expound upon here (though I will eventually elsewhere) I have learned this to the bone over the last year: to the bone. Not just last week's presidential spasm, but a variety of events, votes both local and national have tied the political to the personal in my life like never before.
Thanks to 2016, I'll never look at politics quite the same way again.
This next one is enigmatic, and I'll leave the meaning for the inconstant reader to decode for themselves:
A lot of emotional responses obtain for that one above. None of which I can really put into words, but then, sometimes, art should do that to you.
That was the left side. Top right, now:
A young, hip, modern woman reads from a book on whose cover are the rubrics IMMIGRATION, SAME-SEX MARRIAGE, TRANSGENDER, CLIMATE CHANGE, EDUCATION, ABORTION, WAR.
Important issues before. Even more, after. It's fitting that a woman should be reading them, because I think we should be hearing more from women about things like this. We know they know a lot, but the last election strongly suggested that we don't really want to hear what they have to say.
I wish that would change. I think we're collectively going to be sorry that it isn't.
Another enigmatic one. Decode the meaning for oneself:
And this last one also spoke very loudly to me. I once aspired to cartooning; editorial cartoonists have long been heroes of mine, and I've gone on to be fortunate enough to get to know a few astoundingly well on Facebook (never let it be said that Facebook never did anything for me). And this is what they do.
A revolutionary act. Especially considering the info-tainment and ratings center that modern news seems to be evolving into.
A tiny, vital art gallery, in the coffee room at Powell's. Meditation during book church.
I highly commend it to you.
While it's not exactly an art lesson per se, it is highly instructive and a great illumination on why illustrators are such dead-fascinating people.
It's hard to do a good subjective caricature. The ones in Vanity Fair and The New Yorker, for examples of the genre, are the acme. Via Jack Ohman, a cartoonist and caricaturist of much estimation and ilk, we find four VF illustrators (Edward Sorel, Steve Brodner, Philip Burke, and Robert Risko) drawing and explaining and verbally illustrating the thoughts of the shapes they draw.
Mad respect for the fellahs who use the dip-pen and the Staedtler-Mars Lumograph pencils. I don't mean to show disrespect for any illustrator who uses digital, after all these are much more skilful than my own amateur scractchings, but as someone who draws for pleasure I have some experience with the idea of something created with classic tools directly on classic media. It's a visceral feel, and it transfers to me whenever I so much as watch the thing.
I didn't think he'd go over this big. I'm going to have to develop him into a more of a character of his own!
A very short while ago, I did a cartoon cat as the beginning of a few cartoons that my friend, Amanda Wolfe, needed as an illustrative theme for her upcoming SF-feline-themed anthology, No Opposable Thumbs. Since he was a boy kitty he got the name of Major Tom and she liked it and I was proud and she had his visage put on some cards and for promo, took it up to GeekGirl Con in Seattle this last weekend.
The cards for No Opposable Thumbs were a hit. Even the artists who know writers loved the Major Tom (Cat) drawn by Samuel John Klein. There was one dealer there who had a Space Cat on some merch that looked like Tom... although not as comical of an expression. Even they loved it and kept a card.
Pretty sweet, huh? The approbation is almost as sweet as knowing Major Tom made such a good impression for Amanda's effort, which is a worthy one and I'm happy to support this with my art, such as I can provide it. There are more drawings underway, and I can't help but think, after he's done his service for Amanda, Major Tom can't become a sort of continuing character in his own right.
As the aspiring artist in any style knows, if you're on your own in learning the craft of art, you really have just one alternative if you have neither the time nor the money nor the connections to learn, at least to get started: the how-to-draw book.
In these days we are faced with an embarrassment of riches of all levels of quality and price. Go to your nearest Barnes & Noble, and you'll see what I mean. The number of art instruction manuals and how-to-do-it guides march up into the realm of the innumerable. Manga? No problem. Cartooning? What style do you prefer? Super-hero? Comic-strip? You wanna do 'em in pencil? Ink? Pastel? Crayola™ crayon?
You can even learn sumi-e (and finally put to use that imported Chinese brush and ink set that you got as a gift several years ago).
As you shop, you will run into a scad of books under the brand/author name Christopher Hart. This is not a chances-are sort of thing; it is a certainty, a destiny, a verity. YOU WILL MEET CHRISTOPHER HART SOMEWHERE ALONG YOUR AUTODIDACTING PATH. And it's not hard to see why: on his bookstore page at his site (http://christopherhartbooks.com/drawing-bookstore/) I count no less than thirty books with his byline (which has moved from a simple Christopher Hart or Chris Hart to the more brand-centric Drawing with Christopher Hart). Fully a third of that concerns instruction in manga styles, specialized into kawaii, chibi, shoujo, shonen, manga fashion, and a few more.
I think it's a fair question to ask ones' self, when deciding how to spend ones time self-learning art (and the attendant outlay of money to acquire the codexes of knowledge), does the method have any validity? Is it valid? Will it not only get me started but also get me going in the direction I want to go in. The size of Hart's oeuvre, which seems to be all over the place (but in a good way), to me, not only begs the question, it fairly well demands it. I own a few of the Chris Hart line, and have had the opportunity through browsing at Powell's City of Books and the Multnomah County Library to see others. and, bearing firmly in mind that I am neither here to bury Hart's books nor praise them but to be respectfully honest about them, I can tell you how I found them.
I have beside me two of his how-to-cartoon books, Figure It Out!, The Beginner's Guide To Drawing People, and Drawing Cutting Edge Comics. The constituencies of both books are obvious by the titles, and once you get a little way into Figure It Out!, you realize pretty quickly that the absolute beginner, likely to be intimidated by the idea of mastering figure-drawing by learning about muscle groups and skeletal structure, will hardly be intimidated by this. It's easy, quick to pick-up, enlivened by illustrations that are incredibly clear and self explanatory; the head is explained as an egg shape, and while the lines for positioning features are placed upon they are not explained as to why they're there; the clear illustrations make explaining that to the beginner rather unnecessary. If you're sufficiently movtivated, after about an hour with this book, you will be drawing the beginnings of a credible realistic-cartoon head. Figure It Out! moves on to the rest of the body by teaching general manikin princples, where the bits of the body are rendered into simple shapes and you draw the poses by arranging them just-so. There is also basic figure diagrams to give the idea of running and how to stand.
The other book, Drawing Cutting Edge Comics, also works very hard to deliver the knowledge in its title. The book follows a logical progression from basics (the head, again … another thing you'll find in aspiring artist-instruction-books, at least as far as my experience goes, that they usually start with the head and world their way down), with plenty of illustrations for you to follow along and try out in a step-by-step way. Hart prefers to lead by example, and the illustrations here, as in the previous volume mentioned, are great examples for the visual learner. Everything makes sense based on the way it's visually presented, and there are innumerable examples for the learner to practice on. This is a book on creating comics for the artist who wants to get started right now, and that's how quickly you'll get the upshot on these visual techniques.
Drawing Cutting Edge Comics takes it further in the second half of the book by exploring how the learner might create their own personal style, first by sharing some thoughts of some working artists from Top Cow Productions then delving deeper into the technical aspects of perspective, inking for an edgy look, foreshortening and page design, and a few other design aspects, and goes out with an interview with an agent (Studio 3's Doug Miers) and a very quick overview of the industry at the time of the book's publication (2001) with Chaos! Comics' supremo Brian Pulido.
Its 144 pages promise to pack a ton of information for the budding artist.
So, are they any good? Are they worth laying down your money on? My impression, after looking the books over is, that they certainly are a good place to start. Hart performs an authentic service to hopeful artists by making everything extremely accessible. His style is light, yet informative, and the thing that's always beguiled me about his books is that you look at the way he lays it all out and he does it in a way that, after a few minutes, you're saying to yourself that's something I can do, and after a few more minutes you're looking for pencil and paper to try it, and as I can tell you, just gettng over yourself and getting started are about 98% of the battle. The techniques are clear, do-able almost no-matter what level of artistic skill you think you have, and friendly.
How friendly? Well, as it happens, Chris Hart has a YouTube channel where he posts how-to-draw demos for instruction and inspiration. I was quite impressed with his aplomb and his obvious confidence with his materials. He every bit the pro, and it shows:
Et voila, a pretty girl character in under two minutes. The man knows his stuff. It's obvious he loves drawing, and enthusiastic artists make the best teachers.
Thing about being a mile wide, though, is that sometimes it feels an inch deep. This is palpable at times in the manga titles, to me; when I did a few faces out of The Master Guide To Drawing Anime (which wears the rubric a bit awkwardly as it's about creating characters from standard archetypes for anime and not actually animating anything) I found it, again, easy, accessable and fun and I got good results, but I felt as though it didn't go deep enough for me; at one point it mentions to use the 'standard eye template' but that template was not defined.
This light coverage gets under the skin of independent online creators who, I'm sorry to say, have not been terribly kind to him. Participants on this threadat ConceptArt.org get quite blunt at times, and this essay by a Deviant Art member can perhaps be summarized best in two words, those words being run and away. And this tumblr blogger actually invokes the name of Rob Liefeld at one place to make his point. I think the opprobrium is rather unfair, though somewhat illuminative. But then, the world of manga is a complex thing: you don't simply learn to draw 'manga style' because as we all know, manga art is a style first, then a state of mind, then a culture unto itself. Teaching tool-kit techniques in order to begin to master this world-beating style must seem more than a little like a local culture enduring a documentarist intoning they are a simple people yet with a culture all their own. In my experience, anyone commenting or touring manga culture and wanting to produce a respectful and respected critique had better be ready to go deep as well as wide.
So, you wanna learn cartooning. Grand. You got yourself a Chris Hart book or two and you're going to learn it. Absolutely. And if you manage to continue drawing and get the hang of it, more power to you; Hart's style will open the door and get the pencil in your hand. And, if you're drawing for pleasure, he'll introduce you to a whole new world you never knew existed and you'll be wowing yourself and your friends with drawings you never knew you could do.
But you'll need to remember; go in with your eyes open. Beginner's techniques get you drawing but they also sometimes teach the habits that will not sustain you. You'll know when you feel it; you'll be wondering is there more? Is this all there is? What new things can I grasp with the talent I've developed now? Then it'll be time to move on, grateful to Hart for the start he gave you, into a big wide world of artistic self-expression. Naturally, the best artist never stop learning and when the student is ready, the new teacher will appear.
If you reached the end of this article, I'm thrilled. I would be sincerely interested in finding out what others, triers and doers, have to say about Hart's instruction. Did you find it interesting? Did it open you up or limit you? PLEASE COMMENT!
Major Tom is the mascot of Wolfeangel Press' first anthology effort, No Opposable Thumbs. The effort is for reals, as is the website: http://www.wolfeangel.net. Amanda plans on beginning crowdfunding this very soon, and any one of my faithful interlocutors who stop by this blog can help by spreading the world.
Amanda's a good person with a fierce intellect and a lovely heart, and deserves all the support she can get. And if this goes as big as I hope it does, that means I'll take a step toward one of the things I've really wanted to do with this life:
Art. Being an illustrator. Something I should have listened to my heart telling me when I was a kid.
George Eliot said it best: It is never too late to be what you might have been.
I am involved in the project of a very good friend who gave me motivation to draw, at last.
You can look a lot of places to find motivation, and sometimes, when it's pressed upon you, that's the best thing.
Anyway, her name is Amanda, and as a friend, I love her lots; she's got an idea for a work involving cats in SF (I won't say exactly what, it's her baby, and she deserves to aborn it. I'll not steal that thunder). It requires cat cartoons.
Now, a cartoonist or an illustrator is something I've always fancied becoming. So when she asked me if I could draw cats, well, I can draw anything I set my mind to, even if the muscles are out of practice, so I jumped at this chance. Science fictional fuzzbutts? Totally sign me up for this. So, after a bit of experimenting, I came up with this spacesuited guy. If he seems bewildered, well … what cat hasn't?
Meet Major Tom. Tom Cat, of course.
He kind of named himself. When I grew up, you had to be in the military to pilot one of the big birds. And, well, 'tom' cats are a thing, and after I had him inked in, I knew it was Major Tom I was looking at.
His last known transmission?
My Dog … it's full of 'nip … When he gets back, he'll certainly be a happy guy.
My spouse likes to hide her light under a bushel in some ways. When it peeks out, it tends to be delighfully amusing.
The job of the bon mot in this house is typically left to me. I'm not just boasting here; of the two of us, and she'll back me up on this, I'm the one much less likely to be left to the so-called 'wisdom of the stairwell'. She's brilliant, just not exactly in the ways where I'm clever, and that works the other way too.
So, a few weeks ago she dashed this out on a slip of paper over coffee at Powell's. The spots are my fault; I stowed it between two books to keep it flat and somehow it got damp there. I am a crap archivist. But the wit is all hers. This kept me laughing the rest of the night.
Just a simple whimsical thought, deftly accomplished.
As though the experiences in the last posting weren't memorable enough, there were two others and I can't quite comprehend how I forgot to mention them, so I'll make up for that remission here and now.
Brett Carville is a rather affable fellow who lives here in Portland and works at Laika (the lucky bastid). He does inspired, edgy cartooning bordering on the grotesque; the characters he draws arrest the attention and make you wonder about the leaping creative mind that can hold that sort of chaos within it, never mind transferring it to a drawing of any sort. He's an incredibly affable fellow, and chatted gladly with my wife about his drawing and his characters. What really drew our attention was the card he was handing out promoting himself and his Life of Craig comic book.
The characters (clip on right) are lined up, impassive, posing against a white background. It reminded us of nothing so much as the lineup of aliens from Barlow's Guide To Extraterrestrials, that legendary book by the equally-legendary Wayne Barlow, whom should need no further introduction round these parts. Can you feel the echoes of Barlow informing this work, even indirectly? We fancy we can. It gives Brett's work extra resonance, because it speaks to us from the same place of fancy. We love it. To see the whole lot, surf on over to the project on Brett's Behance portfolio.
The other (clip, left) is as perfect a piece of whimsy as we've seen in a while. Keep Portland Weird then like to say, endlessly, ad nauseam, round these parts. But when the banner is being paraded down West Burnside Street past Powells by a mastodon-like tusked beastie on stick-y, stilt-y legs, the whole idea of Portland being weird takes on new dimension. Or, just maybe, something's come to town that means Portland will have to up her weird game to the next level. Are we up to it? The passing traffic on Burnside assents by its mere tolerance: we are Portland, and we are awesome. It delighted us so much that The Wife™ bought a lovely print of it, and Brett produces quality-product … it's printed on photo paper and begs to be framed. You can see the whole of this not-so-wee beastie by following this link here.
The last thing was a bit of epicure in from the building. We'd missed Kim Jong Grillin', but +Fifty Licks Ice Cream was still there, and The Wife™ can't say no to a taste of ice cream. But Fifty Licks challenged us. We hadn't gotten on board the artisanal, gourmet ice cream wagon yet … were we ready? We decided to take the plunge with a scoop of Salted Carmelized Honey flavor. A warm, brown color that spoke of summer hillsides, we approached cautiously; the guy who served us educated us on what 'carmelized honey' meant, and I was duly impressed. The taste was divine; we had no reason to be apprehensive. Savory-sweet with notes of burnt sugar and a delightfully bitter-bite finishing note that made me wish that we weren't sharing a scoop.
Any time we get into discussions about flavors like this with people we usually dish a little on the hoard of so-called 'chocoholism' that's swept the country since we can't remember when it started. It's not that we don't think people should like chocolate, but there's so much bad, blah bland chocolate (and if there's any indictment of our current culture, it's that it should have rendered chocolate, one of the boldest tastes out there, bland) out there that everyone seems to go mad over, we sometimes wonder if chocoholism is some kind of pose. Well, the Fifty Licks guy shut us up but good with a taste of a wonderfully complex and nuanced chocolate-fudge concoction that had both notes in a wonderful balance with an almost coffee-like finish.
Those who love good ice cream can go thank whatever gods there be for Chad Draizin and Fifty Licks Ice Cream.
And that's it for now for the Linework 2015 report. Check in next year, when we go both days.
… but just for a night. But one night is better than no nights, then, isn't it?
I will admit to being a rather giddy fan of Jack. During the 80s, the 90s, and the double-aughts, as he defined political humor for The Oregonian, I became a fan. Impossible not to, as far as I'm concerned. His wit, so dry as to make the planet Arrakis seem a rainforest, and an unmistakable drawing style were first-class to me, and I was smugly proud that, being The O's cartoonist, he was ours.
I've been a fan of the editorial cartoonist in general since I was a little kid who was one of the few I knew who could pronounce the word Watergate. I've been a political news-obsessive for that long. All of my favorites, I found, served their wit on wry; Toles, Danziger, MacNelly, Oliphant, Herblock. An acid wit was a must for me. Still is.
When me and a lot of local Ohmanites found out, just about two years ago this month, that Jack had decided to leave The Oregonian, devastated … well, that word will have to do, though it be somehow inadequate. Tear out our hearts, why don't ya, Oregonian?
Well, that was then; this is now. Jack's gone on to the Sacramento Bee, and has cut an amazingly funny (and aptly trenchant) figure; anyone who can make Rich "Governor Goodhair" Perry cry is just my kind of cartoonist. The drawings remain as crisp and funny as ever, though now focussed on California politics, and this isn't a bad thing, really … I can't remember having this much fun following lower-left coast politics. When I heard that he was coming back to Portland to do a talk on political cartooning, I was hooked; when I found out it was free, I was netted and boated; when I hit the World Affairs Council of Oregon's website and found that I was early enough to nab a couple of seats, I was served for dinner.
The conditions of Monday were covered in the previous missive; I shant retread that path, trompe l'oeil or no. I will make the short, shameful admission that I've never, unto now, have visited the Oregon Historical Society, and it's shameful because my taxes make it so that, as a Multomah County resident, I can visit for free. I should know better than this.
Tickets were unnecessary; all that was required was to check in at the door. We entered the spacious atrium area and was able to get a seat up at the front.
The casualness of the crowd could belie the importance of some of the people that were there that night. But a bit more on that presently.
Jack recognized me in the front row and shot me a friendly hello; I returned thumbs up. I am fortunate to have his friendly custom on FB, and that's how he recognized me. If anyone remembers how sharp and witty the humor in his cartoons were, I can tell you that Jack's one of those rare people who come off in reality as advertised virtually. Warm, generous of spirit, and funny as hell.
On the left, OHS director Kerry Tymchuk. On the right, Jack Ohman.
Somehow I got a photo of his shoes.
The talk began right on time, and OHS's Kerry Tymchuk did the wisest thing in letting Jack roll about his times here in Oregon. You may have heard Jack was smart; I had an inkling, reading his cartoons and writings through his Oregonian years. Forgive me the obvious joke, but I didn't know Jack; the man is an encyclopedia of mid-to-late 20th Century lore on everything Oregon Politics from the legendary Senator Wayne Morse forward, and I suppose it stands to reason. Uncurious people do not make good or memorable political cartoonists. Sharp wits collect the best stories.
And now, I have more reading to do.
I found it funny, though it stands certainly to reason, that politicians who get japed at by political cartoonists want the originals, even if the portrayal isn't always that complimentary. It's a little like "Wierd Al" Yankovic in a way … you know you've arrived if Jack makes fun of you in the paper. It's a sign you've arrived.
I remember a certain Ohman cartoon which showed Lon Mabon losing it over two men grasping hands in a certain way, and the man who was with the Mabon character telling him to relax, it was only a secret fraternal handshake. I find myself wondering if Mabon ever asked for that original … I'm betting no. Lon Mabon didn't strike me as a man with much humor in him.
The field of political cartooning is nowhere near what it once was, with the national supply going, sadly, down. According to what I heard, not only did a lot of smaller-market dailies have political cartoonists, but the bigger ones had two or even three (when Jack started out, at age 19, at The Columbus Dispatch and later at the Detroit Free Press, if I heard correctly, he was in one of those arrangements). I still feel a deep loss that The Oregonian wouldn't hang on to Jack, but as far as the role he's playing at the Sacramento Bee, where I still follow his work, I'm thrilled that some actual-news-7-day-delivery-paper has the good sense to support him.
The talk was capped by Jack talking about various cartoons and cartoonists and their impact on their subjects. This was where I heard the story about subjects wanting the originals, and we all got to chat and shake hands. Jack, I found was a very encouraging presence. A woman who wondered to me how someone would get a start at editorial cartooning, who was asking on behalf of her kid, was treated as a new friend; I stood for a few minutes next to Norma Paulus, who was almost Oregon's governor circa 1986, and was momentarily within about an arm's length of David Sarasohn, who still writes pretty much the best opinion articles The Oregonian publishes, which crackle with dry wit and great style.
I did shake Sarasohn's hand and just thanked him for being who he was, which I think is a necessary thing, especially these days. and yes, I'm a giddy fan, so there's me for you.
I don't know what its like for other people who meet people like this who are nationally acclaimed and that one really sincerely admires. But the few minutes I spent near Jack made me feel like a friend. This was a big experience for me, and I'm thankful.
Jack, as you can see, did me the ultimate benediction sketching me an quick-self-portrait in my diary (yes, this is my diary. Not even my wife has seen the inside of it but Jack has). It's in volume 19, which happens to also be my favorite number, but now I'll be able to find it, too.
And, you know, I don't usually let people see the inside of my diary, but when I do, it's because a remarkably inspiring friend has made a sketch there.
Thanks for hitting Portland again, Jack, and thanks for being a friend.
NOTE:While the author of this blog much admires the artistic aptitude displayed herein, he makes no recommendation, positive or negative as to the professional service the artist offers, unless, of course, it's the art. Which is excellent.
In Portland, there's great art everywhere. You just have to stumble on it.
Allow me to set the scene. On SE Hawthorne Blvd, between SE 23rd and 24th Avenues, is a year-round produce stand under a tent. Kruger's Farm Market, one of three around Portland, and we were going by it and The Wife™was suddenly of a mind to see if she couldn't get a few things in the sweet potato form for some upcoming meals.
It was 7PM, they were open 'till 8. Strike while the produce stand is open, as I say.
While she busied herself with the selection I made my way to the back of the facility. There's what they have they call a "Community Board" with literature, ads from locals, sort of like that yellow-card board you see on the way to the men's and women's in the Fred Meyer except a lot more interesting. So, I'm browsing back there, looking at the publications (running the gamut from the interesting to the absurd) and the locally handmade crafts and things (same gamut), and I see this:
A purveyor of some service has created an ad and torn it from a sketchbook? Anyone who knows me knows I'm there. Let's look closer:
Artist and life coach. Okay. Looking over the ad, I can see I'm not exactly in the constituency for it, but still I get something from this. That art's pretty dam' good, yo. A powerful mermaid figure, with a generous and affectionate wink the viewer's direction. Well drawn and visually satisfying to look at, a cartoon with interesting mass and warm intention. And just plain gorgeous to look at.
We'll pull in a bit closer, because the note off the maid's left shoulder caught my eye and invited me in …
Note: (it reads) I draw better than this - but I didn't have an eraser. But, on the edit: I draw MUCH better than this … and I was boggled. If this is how good she draws without an eraser at hand, she must do some smashing work with one.
The hand-drawn (and lovingly lettered – the initial I in the website address has the most stylish swash going on, and was all deliberate even where it was slightly loose) notebook-page is the calling card, according to the text, of Shauna Washington, who's an artist and a life-coach whose web-address is http://innersuperheroinedesign.com. I, as I said, don't seem to be in the constituency for her professional service … but at least I can enjoy her art. Which apparently rocks.
2875.This following diagram isn't just a good idea … it's the law. Or it should be.
The book this (and other pictures similar) is found in is one called Elektroschutz in 132 Bildern, published in Vienna in the early 1900s by a physician named Stefan Jellinek. The pictures are nice and direct and unambiguous; they teach, graphically, that the surest way to kill yourself with electricity is to form a complete path from source (usually the bright red arrow) to ground (the screened back, pink arrow. Arrowheads provide the path for current flow.
The pictures seem oddly timeless despite being drawn in a style instantly recognizable for that of Germany and environs in the early 20th Century. They're very evocative, showing the startled stunned dismay of the victims, and the drawings are strewn about with strange inscrutable devices with dials and terminals whose apparent function is to place lethal electrical current in places where foolish, thoughtless death is made even more convenient and unavoidable:
And electricity being what it is, not even animals are excused from appalling stupidity:
Who's a bad dog, then?
Really, considering the flagrant disregard for safety apparently exhibited by the German-speaking peoples during that time, it's doubly astounding that the Deutsches Kaiserreich even made it out of the Wilhelmine era, never mind Reich #3.
2131.Via Twitterer @chadwelch (website) here's a speed drawing done in Alias Sketchbook Pro, of the X-Men character Iceman. Video time is about 7 and a half minutes, actual time is about 30. Nice work!
