Ugly Old Doodles

I attend a monthly Illustration critique group with some fantastic Austin artists. Last meeting, our fearless leader, Marsha Riti, suggested we bring work which has influenced us and talk about why it's inspired us. It was a great idea. For my part I brought in Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein, and a book of illustrations by the amazing William Steig. I told everybody that I enjoy loose drawings with a sort of ugliness. I'm unsure why I like "ugly" drawings. Perhaps because they seem more real? Make you slightly uncomfortable? Or challenge the viewer to search for beauty behind the obvious? Damn, if I had only gone to art school I could come up with an even more pretentious and confusing analysis!!

Anyway, this is a recent doodle from my sketchbook. As strange and perhaps ugly as this old woman is, I love her.

Here are some drawings from William Steig. His loose portraits are downright crude -- and absolutely masterful. Rendering realistic hands are obviously not high on his agenda, but does it matter? With his unchained line these characters feel alive, their personality popping off the page.

I'm slowly learning to tune in to my body as I draw. When working on a drawing I perceive as difficult, my entire body tenses, afraid of making a mistake. Of course nothing good is born of fear.

Man Carrying Sofa

By Tony Hoagland

Whatever happened to Cindy Morrison, that nice young lesbian?
I heard she moved to the city and got serious.
Traded in her work boots for high heels and a power suit.
Got a healthcare plan and an attorney girlfriend.

Myself, I don’t want to change.
It’s October and I’m still dating my checks July.
I don’t want to step through the doorway of the year.
I’m afraid of something falling off behind me.
I’m afraid my own past will start forgetting me.

Now the sunsets are like cranberry sauce
poured over the yellow hills, and yes,
that beauty is so strong it hurts –
it hurts because it isn’t personal.

But we look anyway, we sit upon our stoops
and stare, — fierce,
like we were tossing down a shot of vodka, straight,
and afterwards, we feel purified and sad and rather Russian.

When David was in town last week,
I made a big show to him of how unhappy I was
because I wanted him to go back and tell Susan
that I was suffering without her –

but then he left and I discovered
I really was miserable
– which made me feel better about myself –
because, after all, I don’t want to go through time untouched.

What a great journey this is,
this ordinary life of ants and sandwich wrappers,
of x-rated sunsets and drive-through funerals.

And this particular complex pain inside your chest;
this damaged longing
like a heavy piece of furniture inside you;
you carry it, it burdens you, it drags you down –
then you stop, and rest on top of it.

Harlem: a success story

A little over two years ago, the band Harlem moved from their home in Tuscon and landed in our little house on Clara Street. One of their first shows in Austin was at the Broken Neck - an underground venue which has been home to local punk bands since the 80's. Calling the Broken Neck a venue is being generous. It's a warehouse in east Austin (far away from the glamor and popularity of 6th street), it's main attraction a large wooden skateboard ramp. The bands are treated like shit and aren't even given a stage -- they play on the concrete floor. Their function, I think, is to provide a soundtrack for the skaters.

I was at that show and watched the young and unknown Harlem play, wedged in between two other unknown bands. At the time I was strange and anti-social and hid behind my sketchbook. I still have naive drawings of that show somewhere.

Not long after that, a room opened up in our house and Harlem singer/guitarist/drummer Curtis O'Mara became our roommate. If our house wasn't a punk rock anarchist house before, it certainly became one. Every morning I'd wake up to find fresh wreckage:

Living with Curtis was an experience I'll never forget, but not for the wild parties. I valued the boring, languished nights: the Tuesdays where I would listen to Curtis tinker around on his electric guitar while I sat copying Van Goghs'. I felt a camaraderie with him; two young, determined artists working on their craft through the thick of Texas night. Sometimes I would join Curtis on the tambourine as he played, other times he would come to my room to watch me draw.

Soon Harlem decided to film their first music video in our kitchen - and they did. I wasn't in the video; perpetual observer I am, I was busy hiding in the hallway photographing the mayhem.

After a while Curtis moved out to live with band mate, Coomers, in a nicer part of town. After that, I saw less and less of Harlem, though I would still hear about them once in a while. Over the following two years they really honed their craft, and it didn't surprise me when I heard they had been signed by Matador Records, record label of big acts like Sonic Youth, Pavement, and Yo La Tengo.

Recently Harlem released their sophomore album Hippies, which is one of my favorite albums in a long, long time. It's catchy, energetic, and compliments warm summer weather wonderfully. By the second listen I had "the hits" hopelessly repeating themselves in my brain, and by the fourth listen, I loved just about every song (especially the less poppy back half of the album, which includes great songs like Cloud Pleaser, Prairie My Heart, Stripper Sunset, and Pissed). Of course, Harlem is heavily influenced by grunge, so I may be biased in their favor, but I can't be the only one: Pitchfork gave Hippies an awesome review.

Despite their aesthetic, Harlem has been called "one of the hardest working bands in rock." They have been on tour for 2 months now, playing shows almost every night. Currently they are touring Europe and will be back in North America playing the west coast soon. If you get a chance to see them, do it!

For me, Harlem is an inspiring story. Right in front of my eyes, in a very short period of time, they reached out from the masses of unknowns and became very successful. It wasn't easy, but goes to show how a little talent and a lot of hard work can go a long way. Dreams do come true.

Goodbye Dolphins!

These are the wonderful children I've been reading stories to for the past 4 months. They are an amazing bunch, and I've felt privileged to be able to join their imaginative ranks every week.

Even though we spend only a half hour together per week, it didn't take long before a bond had been created. Without even intending it we had somehow snuck into each others hearts. I was particularly enamored with Ruby, the little girl in the blue shirt.

Her intellect, as young as it is (4 years old!), would constantly amaze me. Ruby would often chime in with astute observations, frequently displaying a very sophisticated sense of humor. For example, once I was reading a book about the different kinds of boats - sail boats, fishing boats, freighters, etc... When I got to the ferry boat, I asked the children if they knew what a ferry boat carried. Of course I was looking for the correct and boring answer: people & cars. But Ruby shouted, "Fairies!", then broke out laughing, as if she knew she was being funny. Of course it was funny... and brilliant.

Another time I was reading a simple book repeating a simple pattern. First the seed, then the flower. First the caterpillar, then the butterfly. First the egg, then the chicken. "No!" interrupted Ruby, thoughtful frustration all over her face, "First the chicken!"

I've been presenting storytimes for almost two years, and I've learned an important lesson about writing books for children. You can't talk down or slip anything past them. Their minds are active and observant. Far more than their adult counterparts.

Today was my last day presenting storytime to the Dolphins. It was hard to say goodbye. They gave me a handmade "Thank You" card and I brought my camera. I'll miss you guys!

Flash in a Pan

Improvised Jazz makes you itch. It makes your fingers tap and your limbs spasm. It makes you want to come unglued from your skin and fly around the ceiling. It makes you uncomfortable where you sit.

Other times you want to shout out. Emote some loud crystalline sound which isn't yet a word but should be. It makes you want to melt into a pool of quivering jelly. To return to an amoeba. In the nurturing, chaotic oceans where our multi-celled brethren evolved, I'm sure jazz was playing. Desperate, frenzied, improv jazz.

I guess what I'm trying to say is: last night my friend Thomas took me to see Hamid Drake, Kidd Jordan, and Ingebrigt Haker Flaten perform as the Drake Trio. Here's a Hamid Drake Solo. Now throw in a legendary sax player and a virtuoso upright bassist and you have last night's show.

It wasn't even the music itself which made last night's experience extraordinary. It was how the musicians disappeared into the music. It's like the music poured through them, and they, as individual human beings, ceased to exist. Even the audience seemed to disappear. A spell was cast, a trance, where nothing existed except mad, furious sound. Sound which spoke everything and nothing at once. If this seems like nonsense, go see a show like this. It's hard to understand until you've experienced it yourself.

Drawing and improv jazz are similar. When I look at the drawings I'm most proud of, I see a common thread. I didn't draw any of it. Meaning: I wasn't self-aware or thinking at all. I didn't even have a concept beforehand or even desire for a final product. I was simply there, allowing it to come. For me, this is a difficult and fleeting state to be in. I found it inspiring how these musicians could remain in this state for two hours. If I can learn to do that, "Oh, the Places I'll Go!"

Last night's performance also made me realize how there's something rare and immensely beautiful about art created with no commercial consideration. It exists for it's own purpose, and what better purpose is there?

New Equation Needed: Apply Within

I valet at a restaurant. Often, at the beginning of a shift, I'll check the reservations. This will let me know what kind of night to expect. Like most people in 2010, I need money to survive, so when I check the reservation book, I'm hoping it's busy. The other night it looked rather slow, but there was a reservation for a large group of 20 people.

Upon seeing this, I caught myself thinking: "Here's hoping they arrive in 20 cars."

I examined this thought and found it funny and strange. Another me, in a context outside of my job, would obviously prefer these people walk or carpool. It appears my ideals of conservation are at odds with my desire (and necessity) to make money. But it's not just me. The car companies also hope these 20 people own automobiles and wear them out quickly. And the Oil Companies? To them, "carpool", must be a dirty word. I imagine the word creates an uneasy feeling, like "cholesterol" or "diabetes" might to a McDonald's executive.

My aim is not to vilify these companies. After all, they are largely made of people who, like myself, must earn a living. My scorn is directed at the system and our outdated modes of thinking, for as long as consumption = profit, it's like we're paid to burn our own house down.

(click to enlarge)

Here's an Earth Day card for our planet, courtesy one of my favorite living artists, Richard Thompson.

Book Review: A Couple of Boys Have the Best Week Ever!

At the SCBWI conference there was a bookstore selling books by authors and illustrators in attendance. Having just won a Caldecott Honor a week prior, a little book called All the World (written by Austinite Liz Garton Scanlon, Illustrated by Marla Frazee) seemed to be getting All the Attention. So mid-way through the day, when it was announced there were only 3 copies left, I hastily made my way to the bookstore, brutally pushing little old ladies out of the way when necessary. I still wasn't quick enough. All the World was sold out. It turned out to be a blessing, however, because instead I picked up another Caldecott Honor book by Marla Frazee titled, A Couple of Boys Have the Best Week Ever!

I'm so glad I found this book! Even though All the World is very good, this book is more along the lines of what I'm looking to do.

First off, it's illustrated by Marla Frazee, so needless to say, the pictures are wonderful and fit the text as seamlessly as a soundtrack. But how is the story itself? After all, Marla is known as an illustrator, not an author.

I think she nailed it. The characters feel lively & real, and she clearly knows what makes young boys tick. The average boy (especially when he gets together with a friend) is not interested in museums or learning about flowers at nature camp. Marla knows and shows that young boys are happy to be left to their own devices, which most often include: rough-housing, eating junk food, and playing video games. She doesn't forget how adults present "edifying" activities for children, but understands that ultimately it's the children who decide what interests them.

Not everybody likes this view of children, and many still believe that picture books must show how children should behave rather than how they do behave. Taking that a step further: some people believe children's books must show how the world should be as opposed to how it is. (examples: this amazon review, and this blog post) I have no problem presenting an alternative world to kids - a Utopian vision for example - but to gloss over reality and pretend everyone is "perfect" represents a covert form of moralism, which I find repugnant and obsolete since the days of Ursula Nordstrom.

I think those who complain that this book has no moral, fail to see the subtle lesson contained within. Marla allows this lesson to go down as sweet as syrup, so that you don't even know you've learned something important about life. I think that's the way to do it.

Personally, I learned a lot of lessons from this book - especially about illustration and the craft of picture books. For me, it was an education on the pacing and layout of picture book illustrations. I enjoyed how Marla used many illustrations on a single page, weaving them in and out between the text, creating action and a sense of cohesion. I also liked how she avoided repetition by breaking up these multi-illustrated pages with glorious, full, double-page spreads. It allows the reader to take a break from the action, rest, and enjoy the beautiful scenery. I also learned how speech bubbles, which are traditionally found in comic books, can make a wonderful addition to children's books as well.

Finally, I learned a thing or two about humor in kid's books. Often time it seems that children's books resort to cheap laughs by using potty humor (and it's true: young kids do love booger jokes), or over-the-top silliness. In contrast, in this book Marla Frazee uses a quiet kind of humor boarding sarcasm. A favorite device she uses is incongruent text and image. For example, at one point it reads, "He had never been away from home for an entire week, so he was very sad when his mother drove away." Yet right under this text it shows the boy with a great big smile on his face yelling: BYE! At another point it reads, "Nature Camp was just so great." And the picture shows the boys hiding inside the house on a beautiful day, speech bubbles reading: "Wanna go outside?", "Nope." I love how Marla gives her audience credit by allowing smart humor. It's a smart choice on her part. Most of the children I know have a more sophisticated sense of humor than their adult counterparts.

Yikes! This review became much longer than I expected, but there's just so much in this book. I recommend it to anyone, but especially to writers and illustrators working on their craft.

Stephen Huneck: A Dog's Life

Folk artist and children's book author, Stephen Huneck, recently passed away. A very talented woodworker, Stephen enjoyed using a woodblock printing technique to illustrate his books, which were always about his favorite subject: dogs! Just a little while ago, I wrote a mini-review of his book, Sally Goes to the Vet.

Here are a few prints of his which I found online:

Yes, Stephen Huneck REALLY loved dogs. Still don't believe me? What if I told you that he built a Dog Chapel? (See a picture of Stephen in his Dog Chapel and read more about his death here.) You can tell from his work that Stephen Huneck was a good and gentle man. Sadly, health issues, financial troubles, and depression caused him to take his life.

...and I was kinda hoping writing children's books would help make the demons go away...

At any rate, if you know any dog lovers out there, I encourage you to purchase a book or some artwork created by Stephen at www.dogmt.com. Not only is his work excellent, but you'll feel good knowing that you're helping out Stephen's wife and family during this difficult time.

Edit 1/11/10: Here is a slideshow which highlights the outside of the dog chapel and some more interior views. Beautiful place. I love the sign outside:

Welcome
All Creeds
All Breeds
No Dogmas
Allowed