"Browser Speed"

The final installment from last May's "Month of Moose" series. Second only to Castor Canadensis in it's totemic power and central to the identity of the feature itself, I suppose the ubiquitous herald of the Interior could be considered a fursona of sorts. There certainly is no shortage of comparisons that can literally be drawn between myself and other fellow large, slow-moving, hairy mammals of the subarctic.

This one comes from the absolutely barbaric internet speeds most of us have here in Alaska - my cabin currently is operating slightly right above a dial-up modem by barely breaking above 1mbps download/0.53mbps upload speeds. Normally anything that slows down my rate of thinking is a good thing, as too much power is a recipe for losing focus even faster. For a state with supposedly some of the highest ranking number of households with internet connections it can sometimes seem somewhat like third-world conditions in comparison, but that's literally a first-world problem. Me, I just bought some more Forever Stamps, so I'm good.

In closing, while you are undoubtedly waiting for the images on this post to load, here's a link to the latest metal on heavy rotation in the studio: Mastadon's latest release, approved by MoochieBear.

"Look What the Cat Dragged In"

Another installment from this previous May's "Month of Moose" - not particularly deliberate but more of a coincidental alignment of material that had accumulated in the production pipeline. The temporary glut of Alces alces made for a convenient theme to explore, okay, flog if you will. Bonus trvia: the Alaska Department of Fish & Game says that our local denizen deer is actually its own separate race: Alces alces gigas.

Nothing really changed in the evolution of this cartoon, just the (hopefully) usual refinement in rendering during the normal process in producing a panel. It did go through the usual channels of penciling out a doodle in the omnipresent sketchbook, then penned in ballpoint, incubated, then hatched out onto a slab of Bristol board in the studio.

The inspiration for this cartoon came from my memories of my first ever cat, the legendary Sneakers. One of many (first of an eventual four) oranges, which are my favorite breed by far - stemming from the original orange by the same name owned by my mother. back in New York. Raised as a kitten from restaurant scraps (I was working as a dishwasher + waiter at the time) the steady diet of fresh fish and other seafood made him into quite the independent and very large companion. Aside from a life on the streets with heavy traffic, he survived a serious mauling, a couple precocious kittens (image here of him and Souchie) and at least a dozen ex-girlfriends, not to mention the usual host of other wild animals in the Alaskan outdoors - one of which took him down in his last winter. He lived to be fourteen years old and survived eight different moves around the Interior, from a tiny one-room cabin, to an apartment, then another complex right besides one of the three biggest roads in the city at the time (he also used to open up the kitchen cabinet drawer under the sink, worm his way through a hole by the plumbing, and make his way throughout the walls to come and go with impunity into several other apartments, including the landlord's place), a Quonset hut, another one-room cabin behind a McDonalds, an A-frame, and another one-room log cabin. It as this at this last residence he had the luxury of a cat door, which meant he quite often would bring home and proudly display his numerous kills. At this time of my life I was still letting my cats be outdoor/indoor ( a return to bird-watching has long since enlightened me about the much safer and saner alternative) and so was treated to quite the smorgasbord of victuals left as offerings upon the carpet or couch, the most memorable one of which was a headless hare even larger than his eighteen pounds. Also I'll never forget him following a moose around the house as he tracked it wandering around by each window, watching with a fierce, guttural growl and hilariously floofed-up tail. So that's where this one came from. I sure do miss that cat, he was a good friend for many years.

"Charlotte's Moose"

Back in May it was the "Month of Moosen" (or alternately "Meese") and so featured five straight weeks of moose-related material. Kind of like the menu of subsistence households when clearing out the freezer: moose soup, moose stroganoff, moose burgers, moose roast etc. Not unlike comedy, nothing ever truly gets old... just keep adding more herbs + spices.

The act of penciling out this particular panel triggered a longstanding issue with failing at Celtic knots, and by extension any illustration featuring ornate, interlocking patterns. This is attributed to my case of A.D.D. - specifically Artistic Deficit Disorder wherein I get bored by anything that takes me longer than an hour to finish. Along with S.A.D. - Seasonally Affective Doodling, it makes for extenuating conditions under which to create new cartoons. And following from this, the first version of the piece was tested out on a random pool of volunteers at the cafe whereupon the command editorial decision was made to thicken the threads just a tad bit so as to make it a little more obvious what the gag was about.

And as it turned out, there was just enough of a communal, cultural webbing tying us all together to make it work. In other words for most folks the primordial ooze of nostalgia was stirred enough to recall the iconic imagery from E.B. White's seminal book illustrated by one of my personal all-time favorite artists Garth Williams.

"Moose Mousse Mousse": Triple Homophone

A rare triple-hitter here. As well as bookending with last May's barber post, this particular panel not only got inspired by a session sitting in the chair, but underwent some amusing metamorphosis during the creative process.

Still went the usual doodle > pencil > ink > scan > digital color route. But there was another whole layer in the evolution.

The original idea was a four piece and featured an entirely different species of critter, that in turn required a little bit of research and photo-reference.

It's not often that even I will say - whoah, wait a minute, this is a bit much. Maybe I need to build a bigger Jacob's Ladder? (or one a little longer at least). Actually it was yet another excuse to see how I could bend it back to Alaska-specific species.

Here's the bonus variation special just for faithful readers of Ink & Snow.

"Name That Tune" (aka "The Byrds")

The classic folk-rock tune came across my headphones and planted a seed for this idea. I deliberately kept a caption box ("Name that tune") as a breadcrumb leading past the surface-level gag on birds/Byrds. And the signature species of the arctic also happens to be one of my absolute favorites.

The colors on this one really work well and it looked great in print - the folks running the presses routinely make me look good. Besides not really ever knowing the exact date the panel will run (just within the parameters of the submitted month's-worth of new material sent on the first of every month), there's always the random aesthetic created with the alchemy of newspaper printing. One of the subliminal joys in running down to the corner store every Sunday morning to see what Santa brought for my birthday which cartoon ran in the paper.

“Keep your sense of humor. There is a 50-50 chance the world can be saved. You- yes you- might be the grain of sand that tips the scales the right way.” - Pete Seeger

"Seal Oil"

Another one in a long line of cartoons that are firmly in the "gotta live there to get it" camp. And proudly so. There are too many pieces of art that are products of their time and not of any particular place. A connection to a place should be one of the grounding ingredients so as to spice things up... not the homogenization of mass communication + pop culture. Also edited out the hobbit architecture, as in like a snow-cave, which evokes the tired igloo trope.

Even took the step of editing the label "seal oil" on the seal oil lamp as seen in the first penciled version. More of a signpost on the path of "getting it" which fell by the wayside, making it harder to understand (and conversely that much more of a reward when the lightbulb goes off). I mean, doesn't everybody know what a seal oil lamp (Qulliq) looks like? It's obvious, right? No but seriously this is also indicative of an upbringing that involved contact with anthropologists and the many Alaska Native friends and fellow artists over the years: when you see enough of an object in so many places and homes it is ubiquitous but still retains so much specific connection to a place that it becomes unto itself a visual symbol representing so much more. It is a connection and a symbol to a people and a place - an homage and hat-tip acknowledging where I live and work - summed up recently in this post about ice goggles.

Also add “Midnight Sun” and “Driverless Sled” (really, any mushing-related panel) to the list of panels in the most recent batch that contain hyper-localized elements. If it’s a self-imposed ceiling to my reach, so be it – that’s what makes the feature different and unique. That’s what makes it mine. This would be a prime example of a panel that targets my home base in Alaska/geographic demographic, and illustrates a connection with a people and a sense of place. This as opposed to catering to the lowest common denominator, which is how many cartoonists mistakenly market their work to appeal to a larger fan base. Sure, by default you’ll limit your prospective audience, but there’s also a reward in making material that “you have to live there/be from there to get it.” At some point you also have to be true to yourself as an artist and create work that you think is funny, and hope there’s enough other people who “get it.”

"Roll Over" (aka "Hibernation is OVER") + Bonus "Fat Bears"

I've mentioned elsewhere before how this blog spun off the wheel last year just like how my making artwork and producing pieces in sync with the seasons has officially slipped out of gear. In other words I'm making (and posting) winter cartoons in summer and the reverse as well, which certainly can brighten up the dark, subzero day when immersing one's attention on coming up with gags about the midnight sun. Though you run an equal chance if contracting a case of S.A.D. in the middle of summer. When I first drafted this post it was May and it was snowing like crazy - giving me the idea about another cartoon... "It'll never stick." But now what with daily temperatures swinging up to 90°F (above zero) it's time to ease off on the flaky stuff. But anyways not being engaged with reality has its advantages in making it easier to keep brushing off any annoyances like animal noises emanating from your den-mate.

On a more serious note as a result of not smoking for several years now, my worsening snore reversed itself, though the inexorable flatulence proceeds apace. If you can't age gracefully at least make it funny.

There are days I am just the luckiest man alive

Largely on account of the Significant Otter's incredible adaptation of sugar-free confectionery wonders I join a host of other large arctic species lumbering about the tundra - somehow during hibernation I managed to actually gain weight this season. But hey man, no shame dude - just maybe lay off the fat bear jokes okay?

"Ghee"

This one is a perfect example of what happens when an only child grows up inside the pages of books (assisted by a nurturing upbringing fostered by reference librarian mom + bookstore manager dad) and/or spends way too much time alone not talking with other human beings because your holed up in the cabin drawing all the time. But seriously the propensity of people to mispronounce something because they've only ever seen it in print and not uttered aloud, which can result in some pretty funny-sounding words. All of which is to say I screwed this one up - it's funny as hell if you pronounce the mushing command for "turn right" the same as for a particular type of clarified butter. According to those ubiquitous little speaker icons on dictionary websites I need to get out more and communicate with non-cats. As so many gags hinge upon wordplay, the distinction is crucial with a heteronym, which technically is a homograph that is not a homophone - making this more of a heterophonic pun. Get it?

"Warp Speed"

Details, details. I mean, if you're up on the mileage for one of the two big races in Alaska, then you might also be enough of a geek to catch my rather glaring error in this one. Namely, the foreshortening is backwards on the bands and blobs of cosmic particles. Unless the starship you're on the deck of is going in reverse.

I didn't think it detracted from the cartoon, as in it still "worked," so it ran, as is.There also isn't much in the way of an originating image doodled out for this particular panel. It's one of the ones that I seriously can just sit there and space out while staring off into the infinite, bearing sacred witness to the unflowering of another idea... in other words "can't talk - gotta draw."

There's two primary places that this drew from. One would be the obvious environmental cue coming after many months of each year spent driving in subarctic conditions... we see a lot of blowing snow up in this neck of the woods. Kinda goes with the territory. Like dog mushing.

And then there's the fact I spend an inordinate amount of time with sci-fi (either movie or, more often, a soundtrack) playing off to the side as I sit in front of the screen inputting data, text + image. So the interstellar kaleidoscope of warp speed is as a familiar sight up on a screen as it is the indelible visual sensation of driving home through a snowstorm with your headlights on. And as far as the optical effect goes, once you see it, experience the thrill of hitting the highbeams and saying "make it so!"- then every single time for the rest of your life you will forever make the connection.Or, in myy case, more than justifies the occasional "never give up - NEVER SURRENDER."

Every so often the spheres come into alignment and my piece will mesh with or pivot off an inadvertently accompanying article i.e. the picture kinda goes with the words (like my own stuff if I'm lucky).

"Windchill" (At a Snail's Pace)

Cartooning is the kind of job where some days you'll wind up researching the rate of speed of a snail so as to calculate the ensuing windchill. Because as a member of the mainstream media I have an ethical responsibility to ensure factual accuracy in all of my content. We here at Nuggets®™ brand Northern humor are proud to sit by our product. And yes, for those of our readers following along at home, it was unladen as well.
No accompanying thumbnail sketch or doodle as this one sprang Athenian from my cold, sweaty brow.