READ!

Long-time followers of this blog (in fact one of the first-ever posts here) know well of my penchant for promoting literacy. While there are many other issues that I might personally care far more about, we wouldn't be in this mess as a society if we didn't have better literacy skills. Hence it being the sole cause that I donate art to.

The spot illustration was ostensibly intended just for a sticker + bookmarkers too. The QR code goes right to the home page for the group, but since some of y'all are reading this post on your phone, that's a bit of a logistical impossibility so here's a direct link.

It's a pretty slick-looking professional logo, as opposed to my beaver/book initial idea, but c'mon man, ya can't have Castor Canadensis on everything.

Behind the scenes was a funny (now) (in retrospect) situation where I spent some time recreating a concept it turned out I had already done. Soon as I found the preceding design I didn't even bother to clean up the admittedly superior version. Dam it.

Guest Speaker: Fairbanks Library Foundation "Alaska Author Night"

I'm humbled at the opportunity to talk at a very important venue, the Noel Wien public library, for a lecture series hosted by the Fairbanks Library Foundation. It'll be this Wednesday, August 19th from 6-7:30pm.Hopefully folks will have a lotta laughs and a little learning (the opposite of in the classroom) with my stand-up sit-down routine. For once it'll stay focused on funnies, no artsy-fartsy, no politics, nor any drugs, sex or violence either. Okay maybe just a hint.

Along with the usual demo stuff, and a portfolio of process pieces + sketchbooks, I'll unearth the archives and see what books I actually have on hand to sell, along with some original artwork and stickers. This'll be after the approximately 45-minute show & tell of one-hundred slides, which I am rather pleased with in that it covers a lot of ground: I'll have samples of work spanning history from highschool and colleges; from New York, to Alaska, to Georgia, to Maine, and back to Alaska; from freelance to commissions, artist residencies, and over fifty cartoons spanning over almost half a century of doodling, and twenty-five years of teaching too. 

While I haven't come out with a new book (aside from a few titles over on the Lulu site) in at least a couple decades, this talk will double as a warm-up/teaser to a big upcoming event in 2028, marking my forty-year anniversary of being in the local paper. And so plans are now afoot to offer a new collection should fill in the big blank from 2008 onwards, and a tshirt, and a few new stickers. That and beat the drum/spread the gospel about the crucial importance of literacy, especially at a critical moment in society, and how comics can inspire a lifelong love of literature. And all this has resurrected a long-simmering plot to shift more energy & attention back to supporting this institution, as it's been a while since holding a gig down at the library.

Something different will be the inclusion of family influences, namely with an opening dedication of this presentation to the memory of my mom. Fittingly enough she was a librarian, and along with the teacher/bookseller dad, indelibly shaped my journey though the pages of my own life story. Or in this instance, comic book.

"Talking Animals"

As an aside to this panel, I was admonishing myself in the midst of coloring it about the degree of detail - okay, wondering once again why I insist on setting myself up with such pain in the arse panels. But afterwards in review of the recent batch of work (one reason I was perhaps either in a hurry and/or burning out) it not only stood out but was really personally validating. In other words it was a rare introspective moment of satisfaction that, for me, makes it all worthwhile.

Every once in a while there are certain panels - comparatively few and far between - that are deliberately not intended to be knee-slapping gags but a more quiet, insightful observation instead. While the subtle irony of a critter commenting on cartoons while itself using the English language isn't haw-haw funny per say, it's a sweet little moment that says a lot with very little. There's a bonus tip of the hat to one of my favorite causes as well, what with the well-established connection between reading to kids and establishing a life-long love of literacy. 

North Pole Library workshop recap

Recently alluded to a special event I was invited to participate in out in North Pole at their fabulous library (and supportive staff), which I had visited years ago for a Comic Book Day and a Guys Read gig.

Image: Somer Hahm

This was part of their "Find Your Voice" summer reading program and I gave a workshop on cartooning to a full room of 30+ kids: an introduction to my process, then a couple exercises in coming up with content and then making a minicomic (which was a bit too much in retrospect but fun was still had). It was definitely full-immersion for me to be surrounded with such an attentive audience.

It was a good reminder that I really ought to downshift from my usual expectations of output when switching to younger folks, as opposed to college-level... it's good to push people and set the bar high but sometimes I need to come down from the mountain when preaching about comics and just relax and just doodle and have fun letting it happen. The energy and passion some of these participants is so inspiring to me, and I will never pass up an opportunity to extol upon the power of sequential art to instill a life-long love of literacy... and creating comics. 

Seeing as how they set up a nice little display table with some samples culled from their collection, we wrapped up the session with a sortie into the stacks to see about their stash. I took this picture because it really summed up most of my formative years with a reference librarian mom and a regional manager for a chain bookstore (B. Dalton's of old) - as an only child I spent half my life camped out in aisles somewhere sitting with a similar stack of books. And back in the day there wasn't a dedicated section for Comics like so many contemporary libraries and bookstores - how awesome is that? So for me, this is simply what it's all about.

Holy Hogarth, Batman - Microns, American Hero and Artificial Intellegence!

Slow internet speed way out in the subarctic hinterlands = lags in load time on huge photo albums, so while pages load the Facebook AI indicates its best guess on what the image will be a picture of. I think the algorithm inadvertently revealed my usual mental state i.e. yeah pretty much how I see the world.

"Hibernate With a Good Book" + Benefit Poster Signing

A bonus post this weekend as tomorrow - Saturday, March 7th - from 10am - 5pm down at Forget-Me-Not Books I'll be doing all-day on-site demos and signing a new poster to benefit the Literacy Council of Alaska. Sandwiched in-between the regular college classes a couple days a week, and another series of Artist In Schools residencies (more on those later in an upcoming post), this will be a real benchmark as far as events go in an already busy year. Oh and only the best thing I've ever drawn to date. Also.

Also debuting at this event: the new bookmarker design

"Rediscover"

Here's a kinda special piece: It actually won't appear in the paper as it's not really anything Alaskan related. Another drawback is it's not a very general message that would appeal to many folks who either A) know me personally, B) are cat people, and C) are into comics (hence the detailed covers in the first panel). And it's now not gonna be used as it's original intended purpose as a promotional/benefit poster for the Literacy Council of Alaska either. It has since then been supplanted by an even more epic image - stay 'tooned for more details... but in the meantime enjoy it as an exclusive to Ink & Snow readers.

Geek alert: One neat detail in the process of this piece was the sudden realization of how much more effective it would be to flip the inset panel of the book-in-hand, as compositionally it really enhances the viewer's gaze through the overall page by redirecting it back down to the closure section. Whatever.

This one was pretty much a labor of love... as in all of the hours that went into coloring it. I really love the inherent simplicity of the concept though, and can point to personal inspiration occurring on an almost weekly basis. There are books that I regularly re-read every single year, returning to favorites in much the same way I rely on classic soundtracks on the studio - not to mention both movies and meals. And yeah, all the actual titles were taken from peeking around the computer monitor at the wall of books right behind me.

Regular readers will know how important literacy is to me as perhaps one of the most fundamental issues. From Read Comics Day to the Big Kablooey, to tshirts and posters and Guys Read, the work of the Literacy Council of Alaska is so important!

Behind the scenes: drawn at 100%, so as to fit the original into a pre-cut mat (lazy) to submit (framed + ready-to-hang), which didn't work out (see below). Penciled in with a Blackfeet Indian #2 + mechanical pencil (0.9 lead as the finer ones are useless due to fragility + breakage) for the book titles. Inked with sumptuous Sennelier “A la Pagode” Indian Ink, using Speedball No. 512 nib (w/Brause wooden holders) for the medium-weight lines, and a 513EF on the foreground figures and shelves and book spines in the first panel + crow-quill for the book spines in the second big panel. Also used the trusty Microns: .o8 for ruled borders, .05 lettering, .01 and .005 for spine lettering and superfine details.

On a meta-note, I used this piece as an excuse to play with some new sets of water-soluble wash pencils, and wound up creating an absolute disaster... as in I was really bummed that it didn't even remotely come close to what I envisioned. But hey - once again it proved to be a prudent insurance policy to back it up with a scan of the line art before ruining the original. I mean, I'll for sure eventually get over it, and sure enough there will be someone else out there who will prefer it to the published, digital version.

"The Many-Storied Cabin"

Concept rough + finished pencil

Been a while since my last protracted process post - so here's another installment on the behind-the-scenes details for this latest piece, "The Many Storied Cabin."

Librarian Greg Hill is putting out a third volume of his collected weekly newspaper essays, and tapped me to do another cover for it. His "Book Range" series, of which this is the third volume, is a fundraiser to benefit the Fairbanks Library Foundation. This being one of my main personal advocacy issues, I'm always humbled + grateful for any opportunity to illustrate and promote the importance of literacy. Greg was one of the presenters in last year's Cartoon North II exhibit, and we share a lot of history with the Guys Read Program, David Petersen appearances, and other community events over the years. It's always a pleasure and an honor to join forces on projects like this.

Stages of inking

Again and again I am reminded of the maxim by Shel Silverstein: "Put something silly in the world, That ain't been there before." It's what I love most about drawing - thinking of an idea and creating it. At any rate the world is probably a much safer place without me being an architect, even though I usually have enough books on hand to construct such an abode. At the very least the volumes lining the walls presumably add some insulative properties - in fact one of the ideas we brainstormed for the subtitle was "Reading: The R-Factor."

Only after the penciling was all done did I have the foresight to double-check the actual size of the book cover by scanning an earlier volume and using it as a template of sorts. Turned out my off-the cuff approximation was short by a couple inches, which meant a big ol' blank space would be left across the top + bottom. Whoops.  Compounding the problem was a real-estate issue with there being no more room left on the original page (14x17" Strathmore Bristol, smooth 400 series) to accommodate any expansion. Photoshop to the rescue! An extra hour of judicious sampling the preexisting trunks provided enough raw material to vertically extend the forest.

Every so often an idea spins outta control and begins to assume logistical issues, usually along the lines of "well THAT escalated quickly." As in, it starts to get technically hard, at least in comparison to to the relatively easier compositions of usual cartoon panels. That's when the work ethic of voluntarily pushing oneself comes into play. Literally, since losing that sense of play can be a real killer, and might just be the defining line between Fine Art versus Commercial Art. In my experience the two share a considerable overlap, and definitely influence the other, if not share the same motivations and disciplinary process. That's anathema to many free-spirited artist types - treating their work like it's a job, but as I frequently remind students, there's a reason it's called artWORK.

Except for the spot-black brushwork on the spruce trees, inking was all done with dip-pens only (three different sizes + two kinds of India ink). Note the random blots in the lower right-hand corner, which were a result of the kitten attempting editorial input via dip-pen rolling across the drawing table. In a reverse way I actually appreciate having a disaster happen right at the outset of any protracted undertaking, as it alleviates the stress of screwing up anything later on by getting it out of the way.

Looking back a decade ago to when I did the first volume, and then the second, I was - to be completely honest - more than a little abashed at the result. This is not an uncommon reaction in retrospect, and to be fair, at least means you're getting better. That said, the vulture perched on your shoulder in the studio seems to always be muttering on about "room for improvement," and it always ensures humility knowing today's masterpiece will eventually decay into tomorrow's embarrassment. Being harshly critical of one's own work is an occupational hazard, and muting the inner critic is as crucial a part of the creative process as any aspect of craftsmanship.

The key assumption here is that there will always be plenty of second, third… even fiftieth chances to redeem oneself. At the same time there is a cautionary lesson here in that just knocking out stuff in a rush might come back to haunt you later on down the road (the same could be said for blogging and/or posting on social media).

The initial concept sketch showed some random snowflakes wafting down around the piece, but in the end the overall composition was just too busy of a visual cacophony. But wait - there's always the background! Starting with samples from NASA deep field images, I selected all of the white spots, changed them to black, then cut + pasted them onto a new white background panel, color-coding each successively smaller-diametered section of stars, which were then each layered into the final piece. All of this ostensibly to provide window-dressing for the constellation of Ursa Major and the North Star.

Appropriately enough I did this portion wearing headphones and looping Brian Eno’s “Apollo: Atmospheres & Soundtracks” in the background. After suffering massive eye-fatigue at the end
of pulling a round-the-clock stint, it was somewhat therapeutic to jump back into the piece at 5am the next morning and tackle the universe. And painstaking attention to such ridiculously meticulous detail is an homage to Schultz's Schroeder plinking out actual Beethoven pieces - one of many ways the master set the bar for cartoonists everywhere for all time.

Other points of trivia in this piece include the inclusion of my beaver chop logo on a book cover in lieu of any signature. There was simply no way I was gonna letter in individual titles on all of the covers and spines - thought the though kept reoccurring. Also discerning viewers will note a private joke with a pile of nuggets added in at the last minute. And a hat-tip to Greg for coming up with OED (instead of the initially sketched "ink") as a subtle poke at the ubiquitous Greer tanks that accompany pretty much every cabin in Interior Alaska.

One last step involved excerpting selected elements from the initial scan of the line art and recreating stand-alone illustrations to be sprinkled throughout the book as little black & white spot pieces. Then it's off to the print shop to proof some poster prints (a previous one benefiting the Literacy Council of Alaska went over really well), which will hopefully be offered at some signing gigs that I'll keep everyone updated on as they get scheduled.

What makes this special to me personally is illustrating the concept that books provide a shelter: growing up an only child with a reference librarian mother and a regional bookstore managing father I guess books were a constant source of everything for me - knowledge, wonder, entertainment and inspiration. On this cabin even the windows are books, as is the door.
Like our minds, all we have to do is open them. 

Bonus Guys Read

 Last weekend there was a special follow-up Guys Read party (see previous posts here from 2016 + 2015) out at the North Pole Library Branch, which, as per the usual routine, I set up a table at to do some demos.

“Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own”

I probably could roll most of this post over into the Castor canadensis category, what with the beaver-themed results.... managed to coax out a small colony of contributions to the ever-growing collection.

But the capstone of the afternoon's festivities was my efforts at the cupcake station... I'm seriously thinking now about throwing in the towel as a teaching artist and just embrace my inner pastry chef. All I can say to this year's state fair entrants in the culinary division is... look out, there's a new dam decorator in town.

Artwork: Colin See-Paynton

On a side-note, the only other time I'd visited the library was for last year's inaugural Comic Book Day as a participant, and this time I was early enough for setup to peruse the stacks and check out more of the building. To my complete surprise and everlasting joy, tucked away in a small study room was a framed set of wood engravings by one of the living masters of the craft, Colin See-Paynton, from the UK.

In 1972, See-Paynton moved to a remote farmhouse in Wales, on to which he built his studio. Entirely self-taught as an engraver, he began to make prints in 1980 and has since produced over 250 editions. Colin has brought a new vitality to one of the earliest forms of printmaking. Although his work is based on the meticulous observation of the natural world, his talent is to invent compositions which distil the ecological and behavioural relationships of the species and their habitats. He uses his knowledge and imagination to construct engravings of great complexity and refinement and has evolved something new by the patterning and layering of his images. - from the Brook Gallery

Previously I'd seen his illustrations in a couple books, but up close and personal was a revelation for this former printmaker - there's simply no comparison to being eye-to-eye with the actual originals. To simultaneously trigger awe at the pure craftsmanship in conjunction with astonishing portrayals of the magnificent species, is a rare experience. I'd definitely rank him on the same level of another favorite, C. F. Tunnicliffe, who I've managed to acquire a modest collection of titles from over the years. For a wonderful sampling of more astonishing works by See-Paynton, see this Pinterest board collection, and make the time to see the rest of the Gianni Collection if you're ever in that neck of the woods, as there are many other artists represented throughout the library.

Residency 2015: Cartoonist-In-School

Here's a recap of a gig last year after wrapping up an intense and thoroughly rewarding residency through the local Artists In Schools program: a two-week stint at Ben Eielson Junior and Senior High out at Eielson Air Force base, located about twenty-five miles outside of Fairbanks. I had visited this school back in 2010 for a brief show & tell, and over the intervening years after earning both official certification and more classroom experience working with this age spread at the Visual Art Academy, I was really looking forward to this fantastic opportunity to spend more quality time on-site with a group I could get to know and work with for a bit longer on cartoon and comic art.

As an added bonus there was no small degree of empathy with the folks stationed out there, and relating especially with the kids, given my own personal history: with an upbringing spent at a different school every year up until highschool, I was familiar with being routinely transplanted, which is a common occurrence within military culture. It was a great chance to connect with students, parents, faculty and staff that sometimes might feel sort of marooned out there an hour drive away from the 'Banks: one of the motivations behind eventually taking this show on the road, or more specifically, off the road system... maybe statewide for a future tour of duty out in the Bush. That would be really, really cool.

It was a two-week residency, but given the logistics of also teaching part-time as an adjunct up at the University, the schedule was juggled to fit in two full days per week over a total of a five-week period, plus a couple extra days for special events like a Career Fair. It's debatable whether or not this staggered, drawn-out approach was as effective as a more concerted, focused timeframe would have been, but the end results seemed to be just as rewarding regardless.

The terms of the contract stipulates the artist-in-resident divide their time equally between working directly with students in the classroom (primarily art, but in my case also some others like English classes with graphic novels, History classes with editorial cartoons, Graphic Art classes with logos and commercial work, and marketing with career workshops etc.), and also the host facility accommodates the time + space to work on one's own projects in a public setting.

I opted to camp out in what, after the art room, is in my opinion the second best place in any school: the library. Each week I hauled in a bag of rotating selections culled from my own collection of graphic novels/comic books to emphasize & encourage literacy. On another table I scattered some eye-candy samples of posters and works-in-progress so as to draw in the casual observer - one of the benefits of being in such a high-traffic location. For at least a couple of hours each day I could create new panels on-site and provide demonstrations of the entire process: from sketchbook doodles > penciled panels on Bristol board > inking > wash of originals > published pieces.

Snapshot of works-in-progress at the demo table in the school library with a bonus sneak-peek at some upcoming Nuggets: I was able to knock out a dozen panels over the course of the entire residency (not to mention innumerable ideas dutifully logged into the omnipresent sketchbook). In this setting I also was able to employ more advanced materials that were impractical for classroom usage ie dip-pens, brushes etc.

Additionally it was an opportunity to meet and work with students who were not currently enrolled in any art classes, to attract prospective art students, and a chance to review/critique the work of students one-on-one who brought in their own comics that they both read and drew themselves. The chance to informally interact with people (including both faculty and staff) was a very powerful and engaging experience. Many times I wound up with little crowds of really excited youngsters over the lunch periods, or one or two folks sitting at the table simply doing their own thing, or hang out watching the work happen with added creator-commentary.

After the initial show & tell about my own work everybody started experimenting with the tools of the trade and learning about hatching, crosshatching, stippling + scumbling techniques to add texture. I made up worksheets with my version of the school mascots (how cool to have TWO – one, a lynx, for the Junior High + another, a raven, for the High-school) for templates to get the creative juices going. I also brought in reference images of both photographs and other artist's designs so as to help the students that needed extra inspiration, though most eventually opted off into their own variations on the theme. Which dovetailed quite nicely with the next phase - creating their own characters.

Probably the single best example I've seen on a successful evolution of a self-portrait to a cartoon: this exercise was adapted in part from Ivan Brunetti's "Cartooning: Philosophy & Practice" book (hat-tip Lee Post). With a pencil, on a sheet of copier paper, students mark out six equal-sized panels, and then are timed to draw a self-portrait staring in the first, upper-left corner: first for four minutes, then the next in two minutes, then in one minute, then again in thirty-seconds, fifteen seconds, and lastly, five seconds. As can be immediately and easily ascertained by the posted sample, details begin to successively go by the wayside as time constraints increasingly limit one's options as far as complexity goes. And it could be argued, much in the same manner as any good caricature, one approaches a more "real" portraiture somewhere along the continuum... exactly where will be left up to the choice of the artist as far as other factors such as personal style and materials.

And as with many other comparable on-the-spot work sessions that I use in my own comics course, having timed exercises is a way to effectively "bypass the baloney," circumvent that inner critic that's constantly trying to edit if not derail the process. And it's another way to quickly generate a good-sized mulch-pile of material from which to get some raw ideas + inspiration as applied to upcoming projects and in-class exercises.

So inspiring to see the students come up with all sorts of ideas with just a little encouragement + support, doubly so to return after a few days away and see even more examples of their work done in follow-up sessions with their regular instructor (even some taking their projects home over the weekend!). Instilling a work ethic, confronting inhibitions and overcoming the fears inherent with creating and displaying one's own drawings: these things all take considerable fortitude for some. I think in retrospect around about 7th grade we're still up for anything until self-consciousness starts to temper creative experimentation and make us worry about looking stupid. Heaven forbid that should ever happen to a cartoonist - in fact that's one of the ways to keep that freedom of expression and fearless spontaneity so many of us spend so much time trying to regain long after it's lost.

A side-note here on the conspicuous absence of any samples of student works for this particular post: I failed to obtain the requisite permission of all parties involved (parents, students, principle and teacher) to publish them on social media. What with hyperawareness of potential liabilities and complicated considerations of contemporary public schools it was a most unfortunate oversight on my part not to line up everything in advance. Hence the preponderance of my own mug and stuff throughout this essay - apologies for the omission, and in the future I'll make a point of securing the necessary blessings.

While I'm on the topic of goals for the future, file this rant under "when I'm superintendent": I’d love to see the day a school throws a homecoming parties for their art students. And some pep rallies too, where everybody, including staff, teachers and parents too, all come and root for their favorite painter or potter. Excuse art students from attending class when they have a particularly challenging piece in the works. And while we’re at it, how about tons of posters and banners and cheerleaders to show support for them as well? Institutional headhunters could try and recruit the best artists from other schools. Art classes could regularly get bused to openings at galleries. Showcases of trophies and pages in the newspaper devoted to them. And don’t forget about some big buildings where artists could practice, and invite teams of artists from other schools to set up and create with them. Drawing tournaments. Rock-star caliber visiting artist who do inspirational assemblies.

Sounds crazy right? But it’s no more than what pretty much every single school already does for their basketball, football, hockey etc. teams. It’s a curious distinction – or disconnect - and an indication of misplaced priorities in education systems that elevate certain activities over others. It takes just as much, if not more, inner conviction and courage to make art as it does to throw or catch a ball, and it’s as equally rewarding as far as developing character and fostering independence to learn how to work alone as opposed to being a part of a team.

Probably one of my personal moments of sublime satisfaction was simply standing in a room of about thirty students and having it be totally silent from the spell of intense focus. Then to have it broken by the sound of laughter: that's what it's all about. I mean, the physical output speaks for itself and has its own. Another highlight was overhearing students complain about having to stop what they were working on and go to another school function, like mandatory attendance at a pep rally.

For me personally one of the big signs you're doing things right is to be somewhat dissatisfied to some degree in retrospect - that's why we keep on going/learning/growing because the "next time I'll do it/this/that better" syndrome. That learning curve of experience applies to working with students just as much as honing our skills with the artwork.

One day in particular stands out still: five outstanding classes in one day: individual reviews of all the student works to date that just blew me away with the results… pushing them to tell their own little stories, and just letting them do what they want, has led to some really awesome surprises and a lot of laughter… worn out but feeling such inner satisfaction. Not to mention totally overwhelmed at the output: well over 350 cartoons (not counting everybody's minicomics) were cranked out over the course of the residency. So far in the art classes we’ve gone from exercises in character development and materials + techniques, to wordplay with single-panel gag cartoons, then expanded into comic strips, wrapping up with minicomics + maybe a collaborative page with four different students (simple scripts > pencils > inks > colors). And then it’ll be time for the release-party of our official comic book!

Cover for the class' comic book

Said it before and I’ll say it again: each & every time I visit any public school I’m always reminded and constantly humbled at how demanding and challenging it is to be a teacher, how hard a job it is, and how much they earn respect for one of the toughest jobs there is. Especially coming on the heels of current legislative efforts to cripple the arts in education (both in the school district and at the university level), I can’t stress enough how crucial it is to email your representatives and show support for programs like this… and for all of our local music + art teachers… and especially for all the students in our community who will lose important opportunities to tap into and express their creativity.

In retrospect I gotta say despite my personal expectations I wound up really having the most fun of all working with the 7th & 8th graders: the craftsmanship of their drawings might not have been as technically skillful as the highschoolers, but so much uninhibited output – hard to say who was more inspired, me or them. Can’t tell you how blown away I was at all of the outstanding efforts from everyone… so humbling to see the time + energy spent on telling their own individual stories. At first I thought staggering the visits out over such a long time (five weeks total) would be counterproductive, but as it turned out the intermittent sessions worked in our favor as it was seen as returning to projects that they were really, really into continuing… lots of the students even took their work home with them over the weekends.

Some of the other teachers in the school really took good advantage of my residency: I had the opportunity to give guest lectures to both AP History + Honors English classes on editorial cartooning: covered everything from Goya & Daumier to William Hogarth & Thomas Nast (pictured above) then showed off a bit of J.N. “Ding” Darling, Bill Maudlin (esp. appropriate given we were on a military base), Alootook Ipellie, plus some Charlie Hebdo, Doonesbury and Pogo to top everything off.

Everybody got lots of cartooning resources and samples left behind so as to customize, adopt and incorporate them as they see fit with any other potential classroom exercises in the future. There was some awesome hallway display cases spotlighting all their efforts when students returned after spring break. Overall there was a tremendous amount of respect, enthusiasm and encouragement from everybody involved at every stage: first and foremost extra-special thanks for the art teacher, Ms. Diane Hunt, the administrative staff at Eielson, and most importantly to all the talented artists who made made such great works... what an awesome program and wonderful experience to be a part of.

Also my sincere thanks to both the Fairbanks Arts Association in conjunction with the Fairbanks North Star Borough School District: these programs and organizations really deserve legislative support, especially given the circumstances with dwindling resources and misguided priorities giving comparative short shrift to all of the arts in public education. The skills we gain from learning about the arts in many ways transcend the limitations of the job-market - although as evidenced by this residency, and hopefully illustrated with this post, there are numerous marketable facets applicable to other, interrelated careers as well - they teach us just as much about ourselves, and speak to our many shared hopes, dreams, common interests, problems and passions alike.

Challenge: no jammies + fuzzy slippers... what would a professional cartoonist wear for Career Day anyways?

The Return of Mouse Guard + Guys Read 2016

Last month we here in our neck of the woods were very fortunate to once again have a visit from artist David Petersen, creator of the Mouse Guard comic. I was lucky to score a bonus side-trip to our art department, the second time we got to host him and Julia up on campus, and there was a fantastic show & tell that was geared towards the art majors. He covered a lot of information on his techniques and experiences in the industry which was an invaluable perspective for students from someone who is really at the top of their game. I routinely use his work for a unit on linear perspective in my Beginning Drawing classes, as it is an excellent example of how to craft a believable environment for characters utilizing props and models for reference.

One of the highlights of his presentation was a sneak peek at an upcoming project of him illustrating Kenneth Grahame's 1905 classic The Wind in the Willows - an absolutely perfect fit if there ever was one. Seeing the work in progress - and an awesome original piece he was inking in while on "vacation" - was a real treat. The most well-known incarnation of the characters as rendered by E.H. Shepard were an obvious inspiration, but Petersen's pen & inks were definitely his own take on the iconic cast of critters. I'm sure his version will undoubtedly take its place alongside the pantheon of other illustrators who have left indelible marks upon the canon of children's literature, such as Sendak, Pauline Baynes, Garth Williams and Peggy Fortnum.

David ostensibly migrated north to personally partake in the annual Guys Read program's (more info about the Literacy Council of Alaska here) closing festivities, held at the local public library.
I'm also going to repost an excerpt from a comment thread where I address the criticism that "girls read too":

Absolutely - problematic marketing to be sure... your point is an important factor to consider: completely valid perspective on the inherent problem labeling anything specifically for "guys." Sociological gendering aspect complicates another issue/objective of overall equality.
The caveat I personally have is dealing with the literacy of specifically boys... recognizing numerous studies that show a big drop in comparative reading skills + interest for them esp. at the vulnerable 4th-grade level - where this program specifically tries to intervene.
The average adult male in America now reads like about one book a year (explains a lot), and in turn kids are influenced by that when they never see a grown men doing something "unmanly" or "uncool" like reading for pleasure (the stigma of grownups reading comics because they're labeled for kids is an extension of this). I suppose it dovetails too with the obvious imbalance in male librarians, or even grade school teachers (excepting "manly" classes like shop or gym et al).
So the Guys Read program (there is one for girls btw) tries to address only this limited aspect of a very large problem, and it's one solution that has had definite results in using role models of everyday men in the community (firemen, cops, etc hell even cartoonists natch) help to inspire a lifelong love of literacy.

In between the games and presentations of Petersen reading from his books to an enthusiastic crowd, I manned a table where kids could look at some original art and see demos on drawing, which David sat with us and did some very special pieces for some lucky folks (myself included - stay tuned for an upcoming Castor canadensis reboot post). It was another great volunteer opportunity to interact with fans and friends alike: many thanks to the Petersens and Greg Hill for taking the time to make such a difference in the aspiring efforts of both readers and artists in the Interior.