Big Foot Style

I’ve often described my visual style as a mutant hybrid between a Don Martin character and a Jim Henson Muppet (and raised on a diet of Chuck Jones). Which brings up a long-running pet peeve of mine as a cartoonist: when meeting some folks for the first time and they find out what I do, they will immediately associate my work with "The Far Side". That’s somewhat understandable, since it’s for the most part they’re both single-panel gag cartoons, and as Gary Larson’s feature is arguably (still) the most popular example of the artform in the entire world, it’s their only connection with cartooning, and hence an easy connection to make. The other one I get confused and/or lumped in with is with "Tundra," causally linked through context + content as also an Alaskan comic.
(follow after the jump for more...)

Image: John Rose

But stylistically neither comparison is remotely accurate: it’s the aesthetic equivalent of comparing a Volkswagen Beetle with a Ford pickup. As in, yes, they are both technically vehicles, functionally similar with drivers, passengers, and each has four wheels, an internal combustion engine etc. but no, they are not anything like each other. Taxonomically the distinction could perhaps be described better as the difference between species versus family, say maybe Cartoons a subsection of the class of Drawing, all under the kingdom of Art? Regardless of such critical and academic distinctions, it’s all good. But as to the point of this post, it’s especially humbling at a later stage in one’s career to clearly see the roots of your creative heritage indelibly traced back to earlier examples - similar to the surprises seen in ancestry reveals with DNA.

Image: Fred Lasswell

Oftentimes in my Beginning Drawing studio art course one of the first quick exercises I do is address the pernicious and largely irrelevant concerns of “style.” Everyone takes a second to quickly sign their name on a blank index card, then the signatures are all posted, and we compare & contrast them. It is immediately and graphically evident that “style” is simply what happens when you aren’t paying attention, especially to something you do all the time. So the instinctual, reflexive action of drawing reflects that unfiltered expressiveness. Trying to circumvent or short-circuit the artificial, stilted attention paid to the act during the developmental “how to” stage ie Beginning Drawing, without having it be a developmental speed-bump or effectively hamstring the process is a recurrent challenge, somewhat comparable to the classic dilemma of dissecting a balloon.

Image: Billy DeBeck

All that being said, when it comes to cartooning specifically, as opposed to say movements within drawing or art itself, there is a discernible style called “big foot” circa the 1930’s. Note again that the word “cartoon” has a lot of overlap between closely related terminology, especially with animation (“big foot” being closely related to “rubber hose” style), versus the drawing of 2D works such as gags, strips, minicomics and comics. The term “big foot” (note: not to be confused with “Bigfoot” nor "goofy foot") is interesting because, unlike the world of fine art, there are not many other terms for such stylistic aesthetics in cartooning. There’s some related to country of origin (ex: Manga) and genre (ex: superhero) and content (ex: alt/indy/underground) and time period (ex: Bronze, Silver). But as far as a specific descriptive term used to flag a formal, aesthetic style, I think an argument can be made that this is it for the field of cartooning proper.

Image: Richard Thompson

The lead us to the pages of the progenitor who exemplified - and whose titular character best personified - this style: Billy DeBeck's "Barney Google." In 1919 Barney Google aka “Barney Google and Spark Plug” - which eventually morphed into “Barney Google and Snuffy Smith” (no relation) - debuted from Hootin’ Holler. Content-wise a distant precursor to what wouldn’t be described so much as a rise in redneck media but a steady undercurrent in American comedy (reaching it’s dubious zenith in iconic touchstones such as “The Beverly Hillbillies” and the Foxworthy/Duck Dynasty et al). Graphically speaking, compared to his contemporaries DeBeck’s work was nowhere near the technically skillful renderings of Winsor McCay’s “Little Nemo” nor utilizing unique and novel compositions (both panel layouts + page designs) of Herriman’s “Krazy Kat.” The linework and textures are not terribly well crafted in comparison, and the humor is equally hamfisted and pedestrian. Segar’s “Popeye” is another example of a perfect synthesis between crude drawing + slapstick humor that reflected American society at the time: conflicts were commonly resolved through violence as was domestic abuse, so it attracted a wider readership by appealing to the coarse nature of what society thought was amusing. Fortunately today's comics are marketed towards an expanded demographic and are consequently and comparatively much more egalitarian, though much work remains to be done.

Similar to the stylistic evolution of another old-school favorite “Nancy,” several different artists have left their indelibly inked fingerprints all over the character: the lineage extends from Billy DeBeck to Fred Lasswell and then John Rose. After "Gasoline Alley," it is the second-longest running newspaper comic still in syndication and producing new episodes as of 2021” Reminiscent of Shakespeare's lingering influence on English turns-of-phrases, even the etymology of the term “googly eyes,” (alternately “goggle-eyed,” “banjo eyes”) another stylistic hall mark of DeBeck. It therefor follows that one can arguably theorize how the etymological source of “googly eyes” + “googol” (hence “Google”) can be traced. Bonus trivia: Schultz’s nickname “Sparky” came from Spark Plug.