"Mentorship" Invitational + NCS Annual Review

A spur-of-the-moment show just opened up (bonus: extended hours over the same weekend as Festival held right next door) that'll plug a temporary 2-week hole in the UAF art department's gallery calendar. Ostensibly through some sample faculty work juxtaposed with a resultant network of student pieces, both majors + alumni, it exhibits the interconnected threads running throughout our creative community. My quartet of fresh Nuggets panels, sans header, are flanking the digital display alongside a couple of simply gorgeous mixed media from Brianna Reagan (website here). This immediately doubles my roster of public gigs, not that a whopping two shows will put a dent against the new no-show edict. Didn't have any trouble culling from the current crop of cartoons, which included "Alaskan Barbarians," and several as-yet unpublished (here or yet in print) panels "Moose-Subie," "Costcoho," and "Silent P." Stay 'tooned...

Speaking of introspective/retrospective perspective, it was time for another annual effort, the submission of last year's best-of to the National Cartoonist's Society's Division Awards for Newspaper Panel (link to previous posts about last year, 2024 and again back in 2011). As always, a humbling task which always leaves me personally with a deep gratitude for the network - similar to the theme of the ad-hoc faculty show - of other individuals and groups that all appear on the same page, whether it's reviews of other artist's shows and work, concerts, performances, readings etc.
I selected a set of single panels: the aforementioned "Alaskan Barbarians," and another unpublished piece "The Otter Family," last year's xmas panel "They're Baying Our Song," "S'not," "Phishing," "Old Timer," and "Melatonin." A last one, "Polar Bowler," unfortunately was discovered to have been drawn the year before, though technically published last year, and so therefore is still eligible. I mean, on the offhand chance I happen to get shortlisted. One side-issue is how I never seem to have enough two-panels to submit an entry into that division, or I should say ones that I think are good enough. Maybe over a couplefew years I could come up with a winning package, but it'll all have to get rolled over into the next book.

On a closing note, I was pleased to pare down my essentials and take a snapshot of what I typically use when drawing a cartoon: everything was there except the Bristol board (usually Strathmore series 400). Technically I forgot a cork-backed ruler, though I sometimes use the cardboard back of the Bristol pad to fill in, esp. when rendering the initial boundaries of the initial panel border/frame. Included is a plastic eraser (easier to rub off pencil without rubbing off the ink); Dr. Ph. Martin's Black Star India ink (matte, which dries super fast, flat and black - useful for demos, as opposed to the richer but comparatively slower drying Winsor & Newton and Sennelier brands I frequently use at home); a dip-pen with a Hunt #512 nib (a note that of the two listed at the link the #513EF is actually much more flexible than the #512 which I use for 80% of my inking) in a wooden holder; two thicknesses or line weights of Microns (still slightly more opaque than Copics IMHO) - one used for inking in the panel borders + lettering, the other, thinner one for the cartoon balloons + details; and, last but not least, my preferred pencil: a basswood Harvest 320 #1 from Musgrave Pencil Company (makers of the yummy Tennessee Red reviewed here) - previous to this company I hadn't seen an actual #1's in the wild, just the ubiquitous #2's, which are a wee bit more greasy and soft, prone to smearing and thus not as suitable for sketchbook doodling.

Keys to The Universe

"The Broken Seal"

Gonna kick off the year with another message of hope nope for humanity, start off with positivity + encouragement obviously too much too drink. Originally drawn back in February of last year as another in-class demo for the inaugural Pen & Ink course. Students got to see the process of penciling from the original sketchbook doodle (posted below) to the inking of the basic shapes. Then I scanned the line art and proceeded to spend several hours the next day in-between classes working up the stippling on the seal, the hatching on the bar, and then the crosshatching for the background. Apart from the dots, which were rendered with Microns (an 05 + 03), it was done entirely with dip-pens, including a crow-quill + the usual Hunt #513EF. Note that this has always been a mysterious misnomer as the designation is "Extra Fine," yet the actual Extra Fine as far as a finer line and comparatively much more flexible point is the #512, which literally says ("ex-fine") right on the nib itself. Having a heavy hand I have always preferred the stiffer nib, as I can really bear down heavy while drawing, so as to get a greater line weight variation.

Also I would be remiss in inspiration not to implicate the influence of Edward Gorey, whose work I had highlit as an exemplary example of consummate craftsmanship. I had intended to use the usual flat colors in Photoshop as per my newfound MO for the print version, but became so enchanted with the end result that I felt the aesthetics of the piece merited the rare raw scan instead. I even resisted the temptation to tint a bit with some watercolor on the original Bristol board, and just left it alone. I did tweak it a wee bit during digital cleanup, but it's come closest in many years to the illusive goal of making a drawing that's done and needs no further editing afterwards.

What with my macabre sense of humor, this one cheers me up. What we find funny in the depths of seasonal depression more often than not works as a sort of defense mechanism, similar to gallows humor. Whatever gets you through the cold and darkness... emphasis on through. Some folks are successful with outdoor activities, others retreat into their own worlds, some healthier than others.

The panel ran in the newspaper during what I had once heard was the statistical height of suicides in the arctic. One reason being the sometimes agonizing yo-yo between slowly warming temps and being teased about the returning sun, contrasted against frequent snaps. I couldn't find anything beyond anecdotal evidence to back that assertion up, but Alaska routinely ranks as the top state for people taking their life, with young folks, Alaska Natives and military members taking a disturbing and frustrating lead in the numbers. In all seriousness, here's the requisite reminder that there are options to consider: please reach out for help.

Bonus Update: Hat-tip to the layout artist who juxtaposed trhese two items on facing pages. rAmen. 

"Pioneer Ice Cleats"

Another in a long line of porcupine gags: Hinging off of last week's holiday ha-ha is another piece about maintaining one's tenacious grip on reality in the harsh North.

"AK Guide to Romance"

True story: as a result of recent upgrades + replacements to aging joints the short jaunt down from the driveway to the cabin needs constant grooming so as to stave off any accidents. Domestication has its advantages, and trips to Lowes for the ubiquitous bags of gravel which double as ballast on our icy roads.

Alaska is the land of practicality, and combined with proverbial farmer's daughter sensibilities, romantic gestures like roses and chocolates aren't anywhere near as useful as a bucket of grit.

Also being a day late on the card (and subsequent blog post) is easily overlooked as long as you literally dig your way out with a sturdy shovel. 

"Alaskan Barbarians" (aka "Head on a Pike")

One of my enduring memories as a teenager was visiting the Philadelphia Art Museum, and marveling at the "second-largest collection of arms and armor in the United States." There was a gallery lined with medieval weapons, including rows and rows of pikes with basically anything you put on the end of a long stick to hurt someone. I've mentioned here before of my childhood experiences with muskies, and how the comparative, uh, scale of this specimen isn't actually all that much exaggerated...

"Chasing Tail"

Not too cerebral a concept here, just your basic HAW knee-slappin' leg-humper of a dumb joke. BUt, as with the previous post, it's another excuse to point up the ol' :accordion of comics" as the form-follows-function by flexing out for a one-two delivery. As did a handful of other horizontal two-panels and strips over the past year: “Over-Easy Alaska,” “Good Boy,” “How Burls Are Formed,” and “Never Mind.”

"Advanced Aurora"

It occurred to me while writing this post + uploading the images that over the past year or so it seems I've larded the production pipeline with more than the usual number of four-panels, or stacked strips if you like. That'd be aside from the usual one or two, there were like a whopping four before this. (For those of our viewers at home keeping score: “The Haul Road,” “Watering Eyes,” “Alaska Bucket List,” “Walk Like A…,” and “No Yogis”). Gives a nod to the theory of form-following-function, and how timing + pacing of buildup or set up to a punchline is useful, not to mention how basically fun it is to design a piece that can also be viewed as one image by carrrying visual elements throughout the piece(s).

And yes, this is in fact partially based on personal experience, stemming from an occasion alone in the depths of a winter wandering around a refuge and hearing the lights firsthand. I even called my dad from the lobby of a nearby hotel in tears at how beautifully transcendent it all was. Especially given how enhanced the evening was... what a trip.

In this mini-process post you can see the comparatively rare doodle on a scrap of paper made just so as to not forget the idea before transcribing it into the sketchbook, to ferment for another few months until ripe enough to actually draw.

"Brrr-Bon"

Why yesh indeed I did come up with this one while imbibing hand crafted libations at my favorite local distillery. Creative juices indeed...

Also scored me a sampler bottle of "Boatwright Bourbon" made by the fine folks at Port Chilkoot down in Haines.

"Winter Deck Seat"

An obstinate ol’ timer insisting on his traditional table at the now-shuttered Sourdough Sam's restaurant, long a local fixture in the community. Along with the previous post, it's also another in a series of overly-obsessive "super-snow" scenarios. Instead of knocking out a panel every few hours or so as per my average, this one pretty much took all day of on-again/off-again attention. First I doodled out the idea in my sketchbook at a café early in the morning. It was only after hitting it up with a wash and then adding lots and lotsa little dots with a white ink Gelly Roll pen that a lightbulb moment occurred. It became a visual link connecting a concept with another incubating idea. As of late I’d been tangentially inspired by random imagery from artists who depicted snowy scenes with using maybe 10-20 times the usual number of flakes that I typically employ in my winter work. I mean, we’re talking like a curtain, a veritable blanket. For weeks I’ve been mulling it over, chewing over the creative cud while wondering “I wanna find out some way to do that.”

So then after a few hours of office work, I returned to the studio, and penciled the design out on Bristol board. Another couple hours of errands, and I was able to return to the drawing board to ink everything in, then let it dry, then erase the underlying sketch, scan it, and email myself the TIF. Back at home, approximately twelve hours after the initial idea in the sketchbook at the cafe, I opened up the file and commenced to clean it up and make some minor tweaks for editing. After the prepwork, in itself several hours of cleaning up and refining, then began the preliminary digital coloring. The trick was to keep saving it at different stages: the line art; the flats; and finally one with all phases of the experimental mega-dots done in separate layers. They needed to convey a random uniformity, a paradoxical pattern that would both function as a texture with its own presence in + over the piece, but still see enough of all the other elements throughout the composition ie leave visual breathing room. You can see some playing around with several differing levels of relative opacity of the flakes on the test wash in the sketchbook. Because this, in conjunction with the value shift with foreground flakes being comparatively brighter/higher contrast, size is another depth cue that deliberately distorts density of the dots, thereby enhancing atmospheric diffusion. Okay now I’m flaking out.

No but wait, not done yet: turned out 24-hours later, on the morning of Xmas eve, I realized that the final layer of flakes ought to be made individually, each shaped by hand so as to avoid the “made by computer look.” Even if they were in fact made with Photoshop, as opposed to the Gelly pen and/or white-out applied with a brush (my usual manual method). So after a coupla hours layering a flurry, it’s finished. Still didn’t quite push the envelope as far as my inspirations, but it’s not like I won’t have another chance to “see what happens.” Also what’s funny in retrospect, now that I went through this I looked back at previous similarly snowy scenarios, and they now all suffer in comparison. As in feel empty, unfinished and primitive compared to the new winter wonderland.

"They're Baying Our Song"

Looking over the sketchbook revealed a deviation from an initial concept doodle. First I thought of background silhouettes of a pack of wolves baying off in the distance, which in turn triggered a tied-up team in a homestead yard, who in turn igniting the humans in the cabin to emulate the call of the wild. Splitting this into two related but different panels will be the end result, as doing another composition sans people and having just the team reacting to the pack. It’s like baking enough for dinner and having enough leftovers to make another meal out of the same ingredients. Better still, it's like a mental crock pot, and everyone knows that it's always better on the second day, after melding whatever stewing inside. And this one was well worth the wait: I think it's a one of my all-time favorites, plus one of the better drawn cartoons I've done.

One thing in particular that was weird with this one was doing the usual document scan on my iPhone (as opposed to the traditional desktop scanner) and somehow the “Notes” program picked up on and correctly identified the little scribbled line, “Hasui flakes,” done in pencil along the side of the inked panel that I made to remind myself of the inspirational reference image, and so it automatically titled the file saved onto my Iphone as “Hasui flakes.” That’s a little scary.

Speaking of, after being informed by similar imagery for an earlier post/piece (see last week), rediscovering Hasui Kawase was the chef’s kiss, and reinspired me to try again. What I though would be redoubling down on the flakes actually only turned out to refine the process, which worked well enough to let alone until trying again on another wintery composition. Hence the infamous Jacob’s Ladder approach to creating new work; keep chasing my artistic tail and returning time and again back to the proverbial drawing board.