BookLust

May You All Find Your Great Pumpkin

Happy Halloween!

The Ware and Why of It All

Last night Johnny and I attended the International Festival of Authors, specifically to hear Charles Burns, Chris Ware, Seth and Chip Kidd talk about graphic novels, comics, nostalgia and recapturing the almost indescribable joy of drawing comics as kids.

You may know from reading my blog and some of my postings at DRAWN! that I am not an adoring fan of any of these guys. Oh yes, they are unbelievabley talented. I cannot dispute that. But for whatever reason, I simply cannot connect to the work of these artists, on any level. I find their artwork, albeit beautiful, somehow cold, lacking in some emotional quality that I look for in comics and graphic novels. As well, the stories they write do not really interest me. Quite honestly, I've kind of had my fill of all this alienated lonely loser male angst that seems go hand in hand with a large quantity of the graphic novels out there. But I've griped about this issue before. No need to re-hash it.

But in spite of my graphic indifference, I thought last night's event was fantastic. All these men are extremely intelligent, articulate, and yes, very sensitive. Their descriptions of their deep love of old comics was so heartfelt, and when Seth discussed the struggle of trying to recapture those magical feelings one experienced as a kid when drawing comics, I wanted to jump up and yell, "Yes! yes! That's it!"

But without a doubt, the best part of the evening was listening to (and actually very briefly meeting!) Chris Ware. As ambivalent as I am towards his work, I simply adore the man. He is sweet, and shy, and so sensitive and self-depricating and so adorable I just wanted to make him a sandwich and tuck him into bed. Seeing him in the flesh (and really seeing all these guys in person), you realize why they write so much about loneliness and alienation. There is no way these guys were popular in highschool. It's painfully obvious that they all suffered and struggled in their youth, and drawing was the one respite in a cold alien world. Watching them come up on the stage was like witnessing the literary revenge of the nerds. Quirky and awkward and bespeckled, each of them (I think) despising yet embracing their weirdness.

And so, I will give all of these guys a second chance, but most especially Chris Ware, because he more than anyone else really touched my heart with his Charlie Brown sensitive soul.

TRANSITory Reading 5

Not too long ago I saw some fellow on the subway reading a book of poetry. I thought that was rather impressive. One doesn't see someone reading poetry out in public very often. But that impressive image was slightly soiled when I noticed that as he was reading said poetry, he was eating. In fact, he was chowing down on a bag of pork rinds! I don't know, for some reason poetry and pork rinds just make a kind of odd mix for me. And as he stuffed those greasy rinds in his salty mouth he would smack his lips and lick his fingers, and then repeat the whole sordid process over again.

So if I don't like the thought of eating greasy grimey pork rinds while reading poetry, it begs the question: is there any appropriate food one can eat while reading poetry?

Anatomize This

Even though we're not moving until the end of January, we thought it best to start packing and weeding out our stuff now. The thought of doing this amount of work at the last minute just gives me the shudders. So I'm packing books, throwing out magazines and old school notes and faded wrapping paper and just trying to basically organize the life that was ours for the past 11 years in this apartment.

Every now and then as I'm weeding and digging in piles of stuff that hasn't seen the light of day for god knows how long, I come across a fascinating gem. Tonight I found a book entitled: The Atlas of Human Sex Anatomy, by Robert Latou Dickinson. It was published in 1949 by The Williams & Wilkins Company. It's got that old comforting musty dusty smell that I just love. I could sniff old books for hours.

For the life of me I don't recall finding or buying this book. I'll have to ask the husband if this was his find, when he gets home. I mean really, if he wanted to know something about sex, he could have just asked me.

The illustrations in this book (of which there are many) really vary in detail and style, and are all quite beautiful. I thought it best though, to not post any of the more graphic stuff. It may not be everyone's cup of tea to see a detailed illustration of vaginismus (spasm of levator and vaginal sphincter). But I thought you might appreciate seeing Norma and Normman, representations of the average white man and woman.

And now I just might take a break from packing and see if there's anything that I may have neglected in my sexual education....

Postcards from the Edge of my Desk

And here it is, in colour. I decided to leave a lot of white space.

Still have to figure out if I want some sort of little black and white drawing on the back, of course....

This is why it's taken me so long to mail a damned postcard; I can't make up my mind what to do!

Of Cartoonist Friends And Things...

My wonderful and talented email/online cartoonist friend (whom I really hope to meet in person one day!) Brian Fies now has a blog, called Mom's Cancer, in which he discusses the entire fascinating process of having his beautiful graphic novel of the same title, published by Harry N. Abrams Books. The book is now available for pre-ordering on Amazon.com, so get yer credit cards handy!!

And if you weren't aware, Brian is also the winner of the 2005 Eisner Award in the category of Best Digital Comic for the original Web version, Mom's Cancer. Here's a direct link to Brian's experiences on winning the award, and being at The Eisners.

It's really one of those wonderful success stories that we all need to hear from time to time. But unfortunately, not without some sadness. On Saturday October 1, Brian's mom passed away, thankfully peacefully and painlessly with family and friends. It's just heart-breaking, and I'm tearing up as I write this, but I am glad that Brian's mom was able to witness and share so many of the amazing successes that her son achieved with the creation of this very, very special story.

My thoughts and prayers continue to go out to Brian and his family.

Of Blogging Friends And Things

Had a wonderful afternoon yesterday. My new blog friend the lovely and talented writer and photographer Hadas and I had lunch in (where else?) The Bloor West Village, because Hadas had never experienced the Village before, in all its glory. I think she was quite impressed with the incredible amount of bakeries and delicatessens which exist in such a small radius, not to mention all the coffee shops! As I explained to Hadas, you can easily walk one subway stop and gain ten pounds and be totally addicted to caffeine by the end of the walk.

We ate delicious souvlaki at this new Mediterranean restaurant, then had yummy creme caramel and cappuccino at The Sweet Gallery (though not without a bit of Sturm und Drang from the waitress!) Oh, and the photo of me was taken by Hadas, when we were in The Sweet Gallery.

We talked about so many things: books, writing, publishing, query letters, rejection, Tel Aviv (where she is from), New York (where she has lived) and everything in between. This is just one of the many delightful benefits from blogging; connecting with wonderful, talented people, and even getting to meet them from time to time!

Have you actually had the chance to meet any of the blog friends you know online? Any interesting stories to share?

Dance This Mess Around!

Does anyone remember that song from the B-52's? Boy that's going back a bit. The 80's were some crazy times for music. Remember Thomas Dolby and Hyperactive?

This is the illustration I'm using for my first postcard mailout. Not sure how I'm gonna colour it yet; probably watercolour.

I sure as hell hope it gets me more clients. Interest rates just went up. House taxes are going up. Heating is going waaaay up this winter. And I'm in another cluster of clients not paying my invoices on time. My stomach is churning and twisting big time.

Nothing to do but dance this mess around!

Pi in the Sky Chance

Scully has brought a very interesting piece of information to my attention. Canongate, the publishers of Yann Martel's Life of Pi are planning on publishing an illustrated edition of Martel's novel in the near future. To make it more interesting, they are sponsoring a competition to find the illustrator for the book.

Both amateur and professional artists are invited to submit one illustration of any scene from the book. A shortlist of five artists will be chosen to create a series of sketches and a final winner will be named in May 2006. The winner earns a contract worth 5,000 British pounds ($10,480) with Canongate. The deadline for the first illustrations is Dec 10.

Entries can be sent by e-mail as a JPG file to pi@thetimes.co.uk or by mail to Life of Pi Competition, Books, The Times, 1 Pennington Street, London E98 1TT.

To read the full article about this competition, go here.

So are any other illustrators game? What the hell, I'll give it a shot. I know my chances of winning are exceedingly slim (they expect thousands of entries), but it sounds like fun!

Of course, I'll have to read the darn book first...

The Autumn of My Years

Today is a work day for me, and I diligently sat in my studio and toiled away for a few hours this morning, but by noon I simply couldn't bear it anymore; the Wind was calling out to me, shaking my window and rustling my papers, tugging at my sleave with a joyous ernestness that I simply could not ignore.

How I wish I could truly express what this season means to me. As I walk through this weather, I feel as if I have been awakened from a deep slumber, and now is my time to live and breathe and beat my drum for all to hear. There is such duality in this season. Bright yellows and burning reds, sombre browns and dull greens; the sky a mosaic of shimmery sun and white and grey; Life and Death so close together. I think that's why I love this season more than any other: the beauty and decay of Autumn is a haunting reminder of our own mortality.

The Wind is whispering in my ear, nothing is forever, not even you. stop. walk slow. breathe it in. take this time to think. read. wonder.