I’ve been into heads lately. It’s the only thing I want to draw. These two were done with acrylic, pencil, and coffee on bristol board.

Inspired by some church doodles…

Well, the short answer is I need a break. Not a week-off-while-I-visit family break or a weekends-are-for-having-fun break, but just a flat out BREAK. When I started this comic 13 months ago I was working a full time job and, aside from writing my graphic novel, I didn’t have a regular creative outlet. This comic swept in and saved my creative life (to be melodramatic) by giving me a place to flex my drawing muscle, reflect on my day, develop good creative habits, and share my life with friends and family. Along the way it has opened other artistic doors for me, served as a kind of therapy, and laid the groundwork for some wonderful new friendships. I am so touched by those of you who have read from the beginning, or anywhere along the way. Your encouragement has kept me going!

This past summer I left my job and began work as a full-time illustrator, focusing the bulk of my energy on my graphic novel. I continued drawing Easel Ain’t Easy for many reasons, and I’m so glad that I did, and I suspect it won’t be that long before I return to it. But I’ve found that what was once an enjoyable and relaxing way to incorporate drawing into my daily life has recently felt more like a stress, on top of an already rigorous creative project. I had high hopes that I would also spend time this year developing my illustration portfolio and that has yet to happen. I thought, initially, that I could use Easel Ain’t Easy as a testing grounds for experimentation and innovation, but instead I feel I’ve fallen into a pattern, both in my art and storytelling. During this break I hope to really push myself in both of those areas. And here is the good news… I want to share that process with you!

I may not be posting (mostly) daily comics, but I intend to post new content each week, whether sketches, graphic short-stories, illustrations, doodles, or previews of my graphic novel. If you notice a week has gone by without something to show for it, wag a stick at me. My motivation for this hiatus is not laziness or frustration, it is the desire to break out of my creative rut. Quality over quantity, to be succinctly cliche. I truly appreciate your support and enthusiasm this far – a huge reason this has been fun for me is because of the wonderful way you readers interact with the comic. Thank you, so much. Like I said, Easel Ain’t Easy will be back, and hopefully better. In the meantime, I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of the ride with me… who knows where it will take us!

How appropriate that I’d end this first run of Easel Ain’t Easy with a really awful play on words! Some people say “hiatus” as a softer way to say they are quitting, but I really do just see this as a prolonged break. Anyone who followed my ten-year stint with Bud Ralphy knows I can’t stay away from my characters for TOO long. Stay tuned for a formal explanation…

Better incentive than that bitter stuff they put on nails!

Beef for breakfast… stranger things have been consumed.

Yay for arbitrary value and line!

Maybe I should start crossing my I’s… “Ian” looks a bit like “Lan”.

It’s totally my own issues creeping in, not the fault of the commentators. Although I would have those commentators know that in the past 30 days I’ve drawn 22 comics, and if you consider that 8 of those days were weekend I’d say I’ve remained pretty dang daily! You might not want to set your clock by it, but come on.

The next phase of interest would be an obvious college-era fascination with indie-music. Enough of my favorite musicians hailed from Portland that I became envious and somewhat enticed by the “scene.” Still, it wasn’t until the autumn after college that I finally visited, and the most prevalent cultural landmark on my mind was still, “Can we find a Ramona Quimby statue?” I was on my first journey out west, to California (another story entirely) and my mom had accompanied me for the drive. Since I had never been north of San Francisco we decided to take a slightly longer route from Wisconsin through the Northwest, stopping in Seattle and Portland before driving down to California. It was a Sunday in September when I first entered Portland, and thanks to the better writing habits of my youth I have a small record from that day:

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Mount! Saint! Helens! Today we checked it out on our way to Oregon. We didn’t actually get very close to the volcano but we did see it from the visitors center which was just about as close as I care to get to a volcanic mountain. Actually it would have been cool to hike around it but it was already getting late in the afternoon and we still had to get in to Portland.

Portland, as it turns out, is gorgeous. I think I might love it. When we drove in today we could see Mt. Hood to the east and the Willamette River twisting in and out. The city seems real laid back, or at least it did until mom and I arrived and nearly got ourselves killed on I-5 before driving the wrong way on a one way street and getting lost on our way to the hotel. Tomorrow will begin the Quest for the Quimbys as I will now take to calling it. At the very least we’re going to hunt down Klickitat Street…

(From Pacific For Now, slightly abridged.)

I didn’t remember that short 3-day visit had made such an impression on me, probably because once my mom flew back home and I drove the rest of the way to California my life was launched on a trajectory preoccupied with a variety of other adventures and life lessons. Although I do remember in my first few days in California when I was looking for a job, a neighbor mentioned that their son ran a video editing company in Portland, and if I were there I might work for him. The neighbor said this light-heartedly, because obviously I was not in Portland, I was in California, but I remember feeling a little pang in my heart, like, maybe I did want to be there. But California had the momentum of so many years of dreaming. I had my heart set on California since I was probably 12 years old. It was in California that I would be happy! (Oh, but again, that is another story for another day.)

My time in California lasted about nine months, and then I moved back to Wisconsin. Shortly after I was back in my home state, a new drivers’ license design was unveiled, and I openly declared my opinion that it was hideous. My driver’s license didn’t expire for another 3 years, and I boldly announced, “Well, in three years I’ll be gone again, so I won’t need to get this atrocious new license.” It was a challenge to myself. It was a deadline. I was restless and searching, but I was also happy to be safely resting in the familiar comforts of home, and after about a year back in Wisconsin, certainly after two, I was feeling quite settled. The allure of the West had waned; California’s glow had dulled just enough that I could see the folly of placing my hope in a place.

Still, the reckless declaration I’d tossed about – “In three years I’ll be gone!” – would be fulfilled. Not at all in the way I imagined, but here I am, writing from Portland. More to come.

Next: Internetworking, or, how I let a random Myspace click get in my head like a pussy-willow stuffed down my ear canal.