making a breakthrough [okay, maybe more like a baby step forward] in designing a character for my graphic-novel WIP

trying out my new specialty pencil sharpener [designed for carbon and charcoal pencils] and finding out it works exactly as hoped

 The tiles on our bathroom floor have a design of random swirls and smears and splotches. Every once in a while, I will suddenly see a face in one of them. I decided to doodle one such face: 

[Please give a holler if you can't see the pic! Not sure this trick will work....]

rediscovering old pleasures



After a while of not being in much of a mood to art, and remembering how Barbara has told me that arting will make me feel better spiritually, I decided to finally test-drive a box of charcoal pencils I got back when, grabbed a dollar-store scratch pad, and let loose for a while. Couldn't help noticing:

• how smooth charcoal is to draw with [it's been many years since I used it]
• how in-the-moment and peaceful I felt while I was focused on drawing
• the little upsurge of pleasure I felt when I was done

Not saying that this here is great art, or even worth showing to anyone, actually. But the process of doing felt good, and beneficial. Gotta remember to make more time for making sutff just for me as opposed to for showing to anyone else. Practice makes peaceful.

For the past few days, I've been devoting my drawing time to doing studies of Dik Browne's work on Hi & Lois. And, as so often happens when I spend any time studying Browne, I come away with renewed awe at his genius. The only reason I rank Bill Watterson higher as a cartoonist is because of Watterson's peerless writing, so that he is The Total Package of cartoonists. But if we are just talking cartoon art, then no one beats Dik Browne.



Before he began working in syndicated comic strips, Browne had a thriving career in advertising art [he designed the classic 50s overhaul of the Campbell's Kids]. But Mort Walker hired Browne to tackle the art for Hi & Lois, where he very deliberately modelled his work on Walker's style, a unique and groundbreaking style that would take its classic shape in early-60s Beetle Bailey. Walker's style was extremely simple and open, meaning that it could still look good when significantly shrunk [a prime consideration in newspaper strips]. It was also cute and expressive and appealing, easy to read and easy to grasp.

Browne essentially perfected this style by adding a sense of grace and beauty to pristine immaculate economical linework, along with his mastery of cute. (Off the top of my head, the only cartoonists I can think of whose kids can equal his in cuteness would be Warren Kremer and Gene Hazelton.) His H&L work captures the formica ideal of postwar suburban America like no one else.

Today's art post is a definite departure, and has a curious history.

There's this woman named Heidi whom I see on my social media through mutual acquaintances. We like each other's posts but don't directly talk all that much. But yesterday, I suddenly got a message from her on Instagram:


I blinked for a while before replying:


Then, this back from her:


Fair enough.

And so I gave the matter some thought. I could take it as a sort of commission, I guess. Plus, Heidi is a striking woman, and the chances of getting some good art out of this were not insubstantial. So I browsed thru her Instagram and came across this pic, which convinced me to go for it:



I chose this one cuz it shows off her strong, sharp facial features which give her real character, as well as her stunning indigo mane. However, I chickened out on trying to capture that indigo, and decided to work in grayscale -- where I have decades more experience to provide me with better control. (When attempting a likeness, control matters a lot.) Looking over the pic and figuring out how best to render its various aspects, I hit upon a mixed media approach which I have never tried before: a combo of ink [both Pigma Micron markers and India ink with a brush], pencil to keep the skin tones and details delicate, and watercolor for gray washes to capture the energy of the print blouse.

And, much to my surprise, I ended up very happy with the final result. Whatever its shortcomings as a perfect likeness might be, I think it's a decent little drawing, all told.

getting it right

Today I was working on upcoming strips of my new comic strip “series” Not That Magic: Tales of Vernor Magus... and I drew a couple of panels that really worked for me, I mean uncommonly well. So much so, that I want to post them here and brag about them.



When I look at these drawings, I see characters who are natural and alive and convincing, despite the stripped-down cartooniness of how they are rendered. Not saying they are perfect, but they are Plenty Good Enough®. I am grateful for times like this, few and far between, when I feel Plenty Good Enough®.

Although I am best known for creating comic books, and my love affair with them goes back decades, comic strips [the ones that appeared daily in newspapers] have also been important to me just as long. Before I started buying comic books with any regularity, I was reading the funnies every day. And it was while I was reading a comic strip that I had my epiphany and realized that I wanted to be a cartoonist.

( my history with comic strips )

a moment of self-acceptance

I have unexpectedly found myself creating a new comic strip this year. Part of my preparation for it has involved reading some of my Hägar collection, to try and osmote some of the power of Dik Browne's art. (While I proclaim Bill Watterson to be the greatest artist of humour comic strips, Dik Browne is my personal favourite, at least as far as his actual drawing goes. Watterson remains my fave comic strip writer. And this is as good a time as any to give a shout-out to Brian Crane, who is my fave comic strip creator currently active.) So far I am pleased with how the strip is turning out -- I had a couple of new-to-me technical ideas that have pleased me with how they're working.

There was a moment, while I was inking the strip shown below, where I suddenly thought, This isn't how Dik Browne would do it. It also isn't how Bill Watterson or Brian Crane would do it. And then I thought, more loudly, Well, this is how I do it. And it actually shook me, gently, for a moment. To realize that I felt enough validity in choosing my own artistic path, that I could consciously reject the artistic and stylistic examples of my heroes and carve a path of my own.

I still feel my sutff is not as good as theirs. But I also feel that my sutff is Plenty Good Enough®.