Well this is the first 1st Friday in a decade that I don't have an annual retrospective of the best cartoons of the year down at the distillery. Nor anywhere else (except the required faculty exhibition) this year, like cafes, dispensaries, museums or galleries, and only the one public gig for the newspaper.
A few more notes below the fold...
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| "Basquiat Bears" 18x12" pastel |
As of late, it seems that the less I care, the more fun I’ve been having with these demos. And by “not caring” I mean ignoring the fear, bypassing that little voice inside that says “you suck,” which doesn’t mean stop learning, stop trying to improve, but don’t be shy about putting up a signpost by which to measure your progress. Another way of saying it is “first make it exist, then make it better.”
First time in looong time trying to use oil pastels (+ colored chalk, and mix-media w/wash, marker) and experimenting on black paper and also charcoal + pastel papers. These were largely from some donated supplies, playing in different media than I used to, so some fun & unexpected results. Like most artists who sometimes eventually plateau, I tend to “stay in my (art) lane” which can eventually turn into “stuck in a rut.” Picking up and playing with new toys, and staying humble – if not outright amused by your own attempts - is the meta lesson learned from years of observation + personal experience.
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| "Moosehead demo" 11x17" oil pastel |
Have always loved pastels by other people, and it seems every year there’s at least one rising star art major in our department that creates stunning work with them, so I get to cheer students on when they go where I can’t lead – or even follow. As a medium I absolutely hate using them, one practical reason being I’m so damn ham-handed I inevitably bust up every one after a few minutes of use.
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| "Demo Salmon" 11x17" oil pastel |
Another is I simply know for a fact that I haven’t spent any time developing my skills with them. As is the case with every single thing you pick up in the studio, you’ll need to practice. A lot, if you want to get any better at it. And teachers in general are somewhat comparatively constrained by the volume of work they have to do when school is in session. It’s a matter of routine now that I will feel the frustration at having to stop/suspend working on my own stuff, and instead take the time and energy to critique, advise, demonstrate, and any number of other departmental and professorial tasks. Note: Worth it, and damn lucky to have such opportunities.
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| Office door notes |
And I deal with that observable, demonstratable fact almost every day with students in the classroom, anxiously gripping their pencils or pens or charcoal and tackling exercises, assignments and critique pieces. I am competing with a wide range of other priorities; life in general (eating, working, relationships, taking time off and spending it on entertainment, reading, recreational activities etc.) + other classwork. It’s why I relate more to Beginning students than anyone, as I face the very same inner critic, nomatter how long I’ve been doing it. And at the other extreme, seeing professional artists hit that plateau and never color outside their lines again, once they’ve reached their respective pinnacles. And to be honest, fucking up in front of people comes with the territory too.
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| "Muzzle Nuzzle" museum demo w/Sharpie + Watercolor |
And as has been mentioned many a time before on this blog, if they can’t learn from my example as to how to do a good job, then they’ll get to learn from my mistakes. And those are the equally valuable lessons: showing how important it is to not take yourself so seriously, to fail, and remember to keep playing anyways. The discipline and practice is the same with sports, sans teamwork (though the support network of encouragement from peers is invaluable).
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| Sméagol |
Whenever I sit down to create another Nugget, and the subject matter is of something that I've never drawn before, I have to do some visual research. Typically, depending on the complexity of the object, that may involve a cursory Google Image Search (in itself problematic now), and then I select swatches to use as reference, and prop up a sketchbook under the monitor so as to toggle back & forth, visually sampling for my remix in meatspace.. Sometimes this mosaic of different takes and perspectives can easily be remade in an amalgamation that resembles none of the examples but assimilates aspects of each into my drawing. Ironically this is the exact same process being utilized by Artificial Intelligence when "scraping" the web for images to unethically rip off. The distinction is in the intent and intelligence of the puppetmaster, and is Exhibit A in why humanity is the final, redeeming mark of distinction, the crucial component of creativity. This will tie in with the next post, one that deals directly with AI.
This cartoon panel was done as an inking demo for the cartooning class, while we were working on out second critique pieces: four gags + two editorial panels. I think I penciled & inked it in under twenty minutes, which must be a new land-speed record, though coloring (both digital + watercolor versions) took another hour. I admit that I pushed myself to knock out the print version within a day of doing the demo. After all, when leading by example one has gotta continually prove that you can walk the talk when it comes to meeting deadlines. "It's called artWORK!"
And yep, this is yet another example of the reoccurring walrus motif that will take some time to get out of my system after Demo Day 2024. I was also advised I might want to give the portly pinniped a distinctive goatee.
In other words, I am the walrus.
Bonus Meta: While sketching this demo (posted below) during a drawing class field trip up at the the UAF Museum of the North, some tourists were up in the "Thinking Made Visible" exhibition where a looped video of me drawing the same bear froze, and when they went to complain at the desk, they just pointed them down the hall to where I was doing it live. Same bear. Same hat. Just to mess with the guy I froze in the middle of my demo.
But seriously, right after that amusing incident, the nicest thing to happen to me all year occurred after meeting one last time with the students at the end of the day's session for a quick sketchbook review. I was still sitting at my table in the lobby working up these sketches, an elderly woman from New Orleans came over and told me that she couldn't help but notice how kind and attentive I am to my students. Since I routinely worry about how I could have done so much better when first starting out teaching, which in turn lingers into the occasional imposter syndrome, that was so incredibly validating and humbling to hear from a total stranger. It made my day. Whole semester in fact.
Another sweet spot about this particular panel is how it appeared in the middle of a series of other pieces, making for a memorable day of making art. It started out in the morning Beginning class with 20-minute demo drawing a "subtractive selfie" in-class exercise with charcoal from an enlarged portrait (current variation of this assignment). Since I was rather sick of drawing myself, I instead used an absent student's image as an example. Then in-between classes I did the Nuggets panel (20-minutes pencil > ink + another hour for coloring). Then for the afternoon field-trip with a class of Intermediate + Advanced folks, I cranked out a few demo sketches (approx. 10-minuutes each + another hour of texturing/color) for their pen & ink assignment. What a day, and I'm gratefully aware of how lucky and rare it is to get such an opportunity.
So much for spring break: it was neither spring, nor a break, as evidenced by the backlog of drawings I had to catch up on cartooning with this year. In answer to the requisite water-cooler query "what'd you do over break?" I'll be answering with: This week went on a walk in the winter with new ice cleats, experimented with different kitchen timers, graveled the cabin walkway, drank whiskey with a Kentuckian, read some Reader’s Digests, ran the Iditarod, went combat fishing, visited Brooks Falls in Katmai National Park & Preserve, played on a carousel, watched a nuclear explosion, attended a 12-step meeting, rewatched An America Werewolf in London, The Return of the King, and Game of Thrones. I hung out with my wife, porcupines, sled dogs, a giant garden gnome, a couple old timers, a few grizzly bears, and some salmon, moose and beavers. ("So, ah... you stayed home and worked").
A snapshot of the accumulating compost heap inside my sketchbook, nevermind the mental mulch-pile. Sometimes when asked "where do you get your ideas?" I'll answer with the candid observation that it's more like just remembering to take lots of notes. This then is an example of when that process goes off the rails, and the blizzard of little scraps of papers starts to coalesce into deeper drifts. One of the rituals I really miss this semester has been the habit of hanging out with my sketchbook at a local cafe. If I put it off for a while, the scraps of paper just multiply exponentially, unless I slow down > stop doodling and/or coming up with ideas. This slow suffocation of the creative drive is an inevitable side effect of having a full time job (aka paying the bills), and leads to a lot of existential stress, that feeling of always being behind, of never catching up. Or, as is often said to me: "You're always working." Actually this semester saw the occurrence on at leas two distinct occasions that I had to make the conscious, deliberate decision to put down whatever I was working on and instead attend to my student's work. That hurt, but there's really no second thoughts at all when confronted with the choice. Much as I retreat into the buffer zone of my art when confronted with the pressures and demands of being a grown-up, I try my best to not shirk the duties of being full-time faculty now. Suffice to say I have a keener appreciation of what one of my students has to endure when, presumably, they have to juggle other classes, a job and a relationship ie a life, and all I ever ask is to make drawing their priority. Yeah, ask me how well that works out.
As a result of teaching the new Pen & Ink class (some spectacular samples coming sooner than later) I've been exposed to a slew of comics that are currently the favorites of a few students, and a bunch of relatively new-ish classics that I've been meaning to catch up on - this seems to now be a habit in-between semesters and over any "breaks." Big shoutout as usual to all the awesome folks down at the Comic Shop of Fairbanks! The current reading list: Junji Ito’s “Uzumaki,” Milburn’s “Lure,” Liu/Takeda’s “Monstress” Omnibus 1 (“If you try to draw to impress people, you will end up drawing boring art. All you have to do is to demonstrate all you have!” ), Tradd Moore’s “Doctor Strange,” and Ryan North/Erica Henderson's “The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl.”
To be sure, a lot of the recent acquisitions have been with an eye on expanding my semesterly tabletop display of sequential art in the classroom to include more diversity, namely works from female artists and creators. Maybe a third of the comics class is now women, but the samples on the roster for pen & ink class was all men (ex: "King" Kirby, Bill Watterson, Maurice Sendak, Walt Kelly etc. etc.) again, until I realized how I was unconsciously participating in the exclusion that is a hallmark of institutionalized patriarchal systems.
Speaking of systems, as a side-note to the big ol' stickers I slap on all the books in my studio stash, now everything's adorned with my chop logo. That's a call-back to the bookplates meticulously applied to every single one of my books as a child, courtesy of my librarian mom. Nowadays it's meant to be a deterrent to the occasional borrower that sometimes takes years to return, and usually a title I haven't read in a while but sure enough soon as it disappears I'll need something from it. As another collector once said all I ever worry about is what I've bummed from someone else, and let the rest take care of itself - there's a lot more worrisome things to try and stay abreast of these days, and books on loan are the least of 'em.
And here's another second one in the series of "it came out the other end of the pen" hence no accompanying doodle. Which is weird that I didn't write down or sketch the initial concept, because I can still recall the direct source of inspiration coming from a trip down the new Nenana Totchaket road to explore possible canoe routes. The area is heavily used for traditional subsistence, and seeing locals out on the road recalled many other instances in many other communities observing folks out harvesting one or the other of berries and/or moose. I am reminded of how close this activity parallels that of hunting & gathering ideas. So here's an image that illustrates how sudden and illuminating insights can strike anywhere at any time.
Throughout this past year I've declined dozens of requests about freelance gigs this year, and learning to say “no – thank you” is a recurring skill I am constantly in need of practicing. This on account of shifting into high gear for most of the year as full-time faculty for the first time ever in my academic career. SO once again I have empathy with the average Beginning Drawing student who juggles other classes, perhaps employment and not to mention a life, say, friends, family and maybe even a relationship into the mix. So on a functional + practical level it's a simple matter of time management to maintain healthy boundaries. While I normally rebuff many of the monthly queries on account of folks just simply not understanding that getting a logo for your business is on the same level as hiring an contractor to build your store, or an electrician to wire it, or plumber to install fixtures, or any number of other services you would hire a professional to do. In other words, they get sticker shock over estimates on how much it’ll cost. Arguably the artwork represents the public face and is the literal symbol of an establishment or product, and the value of that should be commiserate with what it’s worth. Unfortunately the proliferation of crowdsourced logo design (Fiverr, 99designs et al) has accelerated the race to the financial bottom so that it’s even more of a challenge these days to convince people to support the arts in a meaningful (ie monetary/living income) way – nevermind recommending students pursue a career path in the arts. Traditionally the higher-end client gigs aid in enabling a couplefew passion projects to happen, like for a friend or favorite cause, in my case advocating for literacy.
All that being said every once in a while comes along a case where you just feel how much of a rare privilege it can be to bring someone else's vision into reality - a chance to draw what they're seeing inside themselves. And it's also for both a friend and a real good cause too. So it's real important to allow yourself the time to take those opportunities when and if they ever do come along.
Because struggling to realize your own vision is challenging enough of a task let alone taking on another's imagery, and that stress can be a serious creativity-killer, and not having a handle on the logistics means opening the door to a lot of frustration and resentment. Having to stare down the barrel - of an ink cartridge - and force yourself to that's when the difference between a Fine Artist versus a Commercial Artist is, er, well... literally drawn. And answering those hard questions when you're all alone looking at the clock, the calendar and your conscience, wondering how and why you find yourself in this situation again, under deadline, and under so much pressure. Maybe that's one main reason why I continually finding myself relating to Beginning Drawing students who routinely back themselves up into a corner when it comes time to produce another piece for the critique that's now only a few hours away.
While it’s the never ending hustle that really wears one down, the logistics of juggling multiple freelance projects while working a 9-5 job that can ultimately smother what remains of the creative spirit. And it hammers home yet again how much of the secret of success is so often simple perseverance – oftentimes over the years I’ve looked around and wondered what the heck happened to all of the artists I’ve known, where did they all go, and why did they stop making art? So much of it is a matter of endurance, and that I'm still here on account of being to stubborn, or stupid, or selfish (usually a custom blend). And it means real humbleness to having something of a skill that someone else sees as special, and honor implied when asked to make art for something besides yourself.
PS: A note that this is one of many archived draft posts I'm slowly revising if still applicable. Since I'm slightly ahead of the curve when it comes to new output for both the newspaper and Ink & Snow, I can remember to look at the list of mothballed musings and update 'em accordingly. So this one was originally written at the end of 2022, but still checks out, which can be alternately reaffirming and/or thoroughly depressing (or both).
Note that this is a slightly different screen-grab than the similar one recent appearing on the "Teaching Teaser" post from a few weeks ago. The key difference is in flowchart down the right-hand side of the screen that indicates that the progression of the paperwork for this course (and also in tandem with the Beginning level, ART 220) has now moved from off the desk of the Provost, bearing their signature, and will now at long last appear in the catalog for the fall semester of 2024. Hence the absence of any link to registration for direct enrollment into the class, but it's now just a matter of time for the finishing touches and it becomes formally added to the official UAF catalog as a legitimate part of the College of Liberal Art curriculum in the Department of Art. More after the jump...
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| "Come gather 'round" - The Buffet of Awesomesauce |
I have a long-running joke to any student complaining about my dad rock in the art studio that involves threatening them with a road-trip and a mix-tape of my favorite Toto tunes. But the reality as of late is that I've pretty much stopped listening to cassettes in the antique Subie, and since reception is so bad, the radio also. Honestly though the overwhelming, vast majority of voices - above and beyond the incessant ads - on the airwaves are so simply fucking annoying to physically hear, especially what with all the fake enthusiasm, yelling, crosstalking etc. Then there was the gradual realization that it's actually the sound of another human being's voice that is what's actually annoying. This is also born out whenever camped out at a cafe with the omnipresent sketchbook: when the background noise gradually amps up and is no longer ambient white noise but an actual distraction then it becomes torture. So nowadays I'm alone with my own thoughts during the commutes to class, which means I can at times certainly empathize with a recent meme about how only sociopaths can sit in silence while driving. In all actuality this can be one of the most fertile moments of the day to get ideas (see Koestler's theory of "bisociation") as the stream-of-consciousness thought process is visually mirrored in the constantly changing parade of different views outside the windows. Sometimes I quip in response to the common query "where do you get your ideas" that I "just take notes." And so this doodled page knits together two observed phenomena, one of how many folks are on their phones (not talking or reading a map mind you, nor even texting, but actual surfing the internet) while operating a vehicle, and some random dude down at the laundromat - another frequent oasis of artistic innovation... ranked only slightly below a bar when it comes to fomenting & fermenting creative juices. And after sketching out the scenario it occurred to me that, far from being condescending commentary on how comparatively simple-minded the fellow was watching the world go round & round, there's no small irony in that someone else was in turn spending time literally drawing inspiration from it all.
It's been a decade since the last post in this series, so here's another one from recent adventures and outings around town. You know when you give an honest answer to a simple question that 99% of the time the rest of society just gives the answer so as to go-along-to-get-along (see Harlan Ellison's "Repent, Harlequin! Said the Ticktockman"). You certainly don't expect such refreshing honesty much less existential insight at a drive-through.
Now I had never met the dude before, and presumably never will see him again, but this guy that one night while waiting to pick up some folks from the airport who took my order, rang me up, and handed out the bag of burgers. Brings to mind a similar experience a few months later with a guy making my sammich (of which I have a certain affinity & experience with) at the campus Subway. Dude was so into making it that he gave a running commentary of a stream of positive affirmation and pleasant surprise at how awesome the sub was. It being his first day on the job, I hope it was full of such similar discoveries, and that attitude continues nomatter where they wind up next.
I am trying as often as possible to sit with a sketchbook at least one if not two mornings a week at the usual goatee-stroking scene, since they open at 6:30am and cartoonists should keep baker's hours anyways. And since we're in the dark end of the season it's a fairly commonplace experience to have someone leave their headlights on while idling their vehicle outside the cafe as they wait to place and pick up an order. I'd estimate it's approximately the same percentage of folks who don't dim highbeams and/or use LED headlights (stay 'tooned for a good little rant + editorial about that sore subject). Also I can recall not too long ago the "lone wolf" weirdo stereotype with someone off in their world, disconnected with reality. So now these days it seems the reverse, and we're adrift alone amongst a sea of insanity and complete zombification with hand-held devices. Including me.
Here's my most favorite one of the whole year. Likely it'll never progress into a print version as I both like the simple sketchbook aesthetic as it melds with the concept, but also a somewhat tacit acknowledgement that it's kinda so personal it wouldn't be particularly effective as a feature for the funny.
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| Staring down another blank page |
Broke out the man-purse last week, and after a two-year hiatus, have set up shop at my favorite local cafe again. The creative juices are flowing and I've reinstated a self-imposed schedule of disciplined doodling. It's an integral part of the process, but several recent events aligned to conspire against my regular rhythms and subsequent output. So in accordance with my usual early-morning schedule, I'm usually the first customer in the door when they open. On the first session back in the proverbial saddle, I finally finished one complete sketchbook, which can now be retired to the studio, to literally draw from, added to the pile of similar repositories. I'll film a flip-through sooner than later and post a video of all the encapsulated nonsense. Another ritual was the careful adornment of the new sketchbook with some of the accumulated stickers I have stashed away for just such a purpose. Also started off the new collection with the very first image - tangentially related to scoring a second booster shot.
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| Page one: The inaugural doodle on a new sketchbook |
Grooves have a way of turning into ruts, and despite my preferred teaching style of utilizing disruptive educational techniques in the classroom (not letting us get complacent but continually uprooting and re-contextualizing exercises out into the "real world"), I am a creature of habit. It's been a couple years now that two of my long-running local establishments to hang out with the sketchbook and work on turning over material fermenting in the mental mulch-pile have closed up shop. Gulliver's Books first got re-shelved and then finally closed it's covers, and then Sourdough Sam's also shuttered itself. These really hurt, and left big holes in the Fairbanks. It's places like these, local businesses, that are the heart + soul of a community. Not the big box stores, who's empty eyesore corporate carcasses litter the landscape of our town. They don't care, never did, never will. Not the shitty chains everybody lines up to eat shit at because it's either fresh shit, or tastes just like the same shitty food they ate in the last shitty town they lived in. And it's turning Fairbanks - metastasized into anytown USA - into a shitty place to live.
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| Another recent small business casualty: logo by yers truly |
Now add in the pandemic shutdowns which yanked the rug out from everybody, and ever since then I've been feeling such insidious malaise (another term is "languishing"), like I just slipped out of gear, or sit there spinning my wheels. I feel like I've lost my mojo, my drive is gone, no energy left anymore. How the hell can I inspire anybody that supposed to be teaching when I feel like one of those sad, old, and useless faculty members who just occupy space while they run out the clock until they retire. But slowly, ever so slowly I am fighting back. Even if all I have the energy for is one thing, at least that gets done. Or maybe just vacuuming + dishes is all I have time for - cut yourself some slack. There are still days I burn out right off the bat but still keep pushing, flogging the proverbial dead horse, or in this case, moose. I'm seriously behind on a couple big clients, and one thing I've really learned after the past couple years is now to say no. As in no more freelance - what little resources I have left are all going right back into my own work now. So far I've turned down a dozen gigs and it's not even at the halfway point of the year. You get so goddamned sick of the constant hustle, marketing yourself, chumming the waters as it were. It never ends. One of the big red flags is not being able to shake the resentment that you are working on stuff for someone else when all you want to be doing is working on your own thing. As well you should - it's an extension of the inner checks + balances I go through whenever facing the choice between drawing or spending time + energy on consuming other people's efforts, as in for example, watch a movie or work on your own creative output - or in the case of a lot of comics students, spend hours and hours gaming instead of producing your own content. And then you have to make the same call when invited to parties, or movies, or dinners etc. which can narrow your world considerably (not to mention strain relationships). And yet there is the silver lining in how these tasks challenge you, push you, force you to confront inner issues like performance, imposter syndrome, or just plain old discipline. This is at odds with the artsy-fartsy crowd who see art as more of a therapeutic and organic process as opposed to under stressful deadlines (hence the functional distinction between Fine versus Commercial arts), but I know left to my own devices waiting for inspiration is bullshit - it does happen, just 99% of the time under pressure. Like I tell my students, it's called artWORK. Yeah I know, first-world problems, and I know the majority of struggling artists wish they had such issues. But you can only give so much, and if you put everything into it, it takes a lot out of you too. So some self-care and prudent marshaling of inner output will go a long way to recovering from this series of switchbacks & speed-bumps.
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| When all that's left are the empty backs of stickers |
It seems all I’m good for is making stupid silly little pictures when war is raging, while the planet is being poisoned & plundered, I’m not helping, and everything can feel so helpless. Maybe it’s the buffer zone against reality as it continues to etch away at the edges of awareness, slowly dawning on the buried periphery of the subconscious. More nuggets below the fold.
Tangential to this topic is an observation about human nature. Or more specifically, humans in nature. Remember the admonishments to use your "indoors voice?" That meant when one is outside, that's the cue to cut loose. Successive generations have trained us to abandon all restraint once the cage is sprung and we're let off the proverbial leash. This behavior can easily be observed by primates recreating anytime, anywhere in the great outdoors. Nature is empty and needs to be filled with the sights + sounds (and all the accompanying pollution, sight + sound) of our species. No wonder, despite the desirability to have many folks shut the hell up for once in their lives, it's called an "uncomfortable silence."
And power means noise - the louder the stronger, faster and better. Compare and contrast human means of locomotion and transportation: more power translates into ever-widening disconnect, physical and spiritual, from where we are, and what we are doing to the planet. Bicycle vs motorcycle, walking vs driving, skiing vs snowmachining, canoe vs jetski etc. We begin to look at the places we inhabit as someplace to travel over, skimming the surface, as opposed to going through, or being a part of instead of apart from. Awareness can be equated with immersion. I still remember commuting on my mountain bike one day and seeing with astonishment the sheer number of dead dragonflies littering the sides of the road, and mulling over how in a vehicle traveling at 60mph you have simply no idea your impact on the little things.
And there is a primal fear our collective shouting into the void, as so many people cannot handle it and need to have a radio or tv on in the background. More and more I encounter boaters blasting music or hikers streaming media, bringing along with them all of the same crap most of us are trying to take a break from. I've lamented for years the exponentially spreading number of people who attempt to bring as much of their belongings as possible instead of leaving it all behind.My guess is that would explain my personal perception of being in the woods as that of entering a shrine, and our silence reflects the reverence.
Confession time: like far too many sources of inspiration for my work, I've actually done this. For six years I trekked (three with other folks and three solo) across the old Kesugi Ridge trail, back when the entirety of it ran from Little Coal Creek past the Ermine Hill (halfway point), past the Byers Lake takeout (the current end of the trail) all the way to Troublesome Creek, so the full 36 miles as opposed to the shortened 29 miles now. That last six miles has been abandoned largely on account of how the last few miles paralleled the namesake river (mislabeled as a 'creek"), which meant frequent wash-outs and trail repairs.
The other significant issue in the decision was no doubt the fact that it was also a salmon stream, which necessitated closure during spawning season so as to lessen the potential conflict between humans and bears. I would time my trips to coincide with this by leaving my truck in the Upper Troublesome Creek parking lot and then hitching a ride back up to Little Coal Creek, thus ensuring solitude for the final portion of the trek. I remember sitting at the watershed elevation where my final campsite was located, and spotting through binoculars eight grizzly and black bears meander their way through the blueberry thickets, presumably snacking on appetizers before advancing down to the seafood buffet in the valley below. Knowing you would have to run this gauntlet does absolute wonders for sharpening one's situational awareness. Soon a perfect alignment of factors developed: hiking through grass too tall to see any distance ahead + a wind blowing the wrong way (ie carrying your scent away from your direction of travel) + a water flowing so loud the traditional "HEY BEAR" chant was rendered useless.
About this time was when piles of bear scat began appearing on the trail every ten feet or so, and you bet I at first attempted to determine their relative freshness. I eventually did have the first of what turned out to be many bear encounters over the years when rounding a bend and seeing a big grizzly mid-stream fishing for salmon about 25-yards away (years later I had a transcendent experience skinny-dipping nearby, skimming along with the current and pushing between two boulders to get dumped into a deep pool full of panicking fish). So I froze and stared transfixed for my very first in-person alone-in-the-wilderness encounter. It couldn't hear me, smell me, or see me yet, and I did the first thing any self-respecting prey species would do: dropped my hiking stick, switched hands with the bear spray, hiked up one leg of my shorts, and... piddled like a scared puppy. Then the bear stood up on its hindlegs, looked around, whuffed and tore off in the opposite direction.
The final incredible highlight (of a truly epic adventure) was emerging at last from the woods at the edge of the parking lot and wondering at the giant, two-foot high wooden bird sculpture of a magnificent Great Gray Owl that was sitting on a post maybe ten yards away. Then it turned its head in a complete180° at me, causing me to jump and then spread its immense wingspan to silently fly directly at and then over me.
The ranger had left a hand-written note under my windshield wiper to "lock up when you're done," having only jury-rigged the padlock on the now-closed gate.
After all that I did get a good (but really, are there any bad ones?) poop joke out of the experience.
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| That is one sad little moose nugget |
I often make light of how I'll begin to suffer from seasonal affective disorder approximately six months ahead/behind of everyone else. This on account of having one's mindset obsessively focused on topical material for new Nuggets, and since I usually have a half-year of material stashed away (endlessly replenished and supplanted with successive waves of ideas and doodles) my brain is perversely operating in winter mode during the hottest days of summer, and conversely, would account for why I'm so surprisingly cheered up in the darkest depths of winter since all my thoughts are consumed with bright sunshine, colorful flowers, singing birds, the pure and simple laughter of playing children, and puppies tumbling about a grassy lawn etc.
Spring cleaning at the studio, and time to stick a pitchfork into the mental mulch-pile so as to properly aerate the compost heap of ideas that has been fermenting away inside my head all winter long. As evidenced by the accumulated detritus in the back of my current sketchbook, I have been slacking on transcribing the random collection of hurriedly jotted-down ideas (on any scrap of paper within reach) into a more easily understood compositional thumbnails onto the actual pages. This often entails some interpretation, and there have been many instances I will sit and stare at the scribbles, and honestly have no idea what they are. By some definitions cartoons are supposed to be quick, loose and simple marks on a piece of paper that stand for something - visual shorthand if you will. But some of these overly abstracted doodles remain a mystery even to me - something similar to what I know readers occasionally feel when trying to understand many of my finished panels - "I don't get it." Many times these fragments are just pictures without any words, or jotted down lines that need to have an accompanying illustration. In theory the process of working up ideas into the sketchbook is supposed to streamline the concepts and allow for some editing of the imagery so as to facilitate faster understanding. But if the creator of said sketches is stumped, just let it go man, turn the page. Eventually the scraps get either worked up or abandoned, and my desktop - the literal one as opposed to the virtual one on the computer, which oftentimes undergoes the same annual excavation - starts to look like the leftover masticated material from a busy colony of hamsters. Which, if you know me, is a fairly accurate description of the way my mind works.
Back on the proverbial wheel...
