This is technically cheating, since I posted a drawing of a person yesterday, and I’m supposed to draw a place today. But I made the rules, so I can break ‘em! I needed to draw an updated head shot for my “about” page (which, too, was due for an update… I never know what to say there.) So I drew this to reflect my longer hair. If you want, check out the updated bio!
New Head-toon
Thursday, November 17th, 2011
In memory of Bil Keane (1922-2011)
Wednesday, November 9th, 2011
Say what you will about Bil Keane’s comic Family Circus – heaven knows I, like so many jaded Millenials, have made my share of jokes. Say what you will, but this comic, and this man, was important. This comic had heart. It was shamelessly sentimental, yes, but whoever decided that was a bad thing? As a kid, before I learned about sarcasm and irony and the often mean-spirited humor so favored in entertainment, I drank the Family Circus up. It was the first thing I flipped to in my parents’ Sunday newspaper. As a child, I could relate to those wide-eyed children, just like I’m sure many parents have chuckled from the perspective of the adults, and grandparents have knowingly smiled at the universally heartwarming misunderstandings of their very-literal grandchildren. “How nice! Bob and Mary named their baby after me.” “They named their baby ‘Grandma’?” And I defy you to find me one person – any age – who didn’t enjoy tracing Jeffy’s dotted path through the neighborhood. It didn’t matter what shenanigans he got into along the way, it was that invitation into the journey that got us.
Maybe Bil Keane could have roped in readers of all ages by featuring a prominent teenage character (though he’d likely turn out as out-of-touch as Chip from Hi and Lois) but I think he stuck with what he knew, and if that meant losing readers while they trudged through the cynical, muddy waters of adolescence and early adulthood, there were probably many who returned once they started a family circus of their own. Bil Keane delivered exactly what he promised.
As a kid, I was frustrated by the more adult comics with punchlines that I couldn’t understand. I developed a theory about comics which was basically the Emperor’s New Clothes Theory, in which none of the jokes actually made sense but people pretended to laugh so as to appear smart (I think this still applies to many New Yorker cartoons). Sometimes I would pretend to get the joke and would laugh, but with Family Circus I never had to pretend. The jokes were written to be understood instantly, to smile at, and take a warm fuzzy feeling into your day. No, that’s hardly what sells in comedy today, but regardless, that early experience – having someone like Bil Keane who took children seriously enough to speak their language – probably made a world of difference for me. It kept me reading the comics, then later reading them with a more engaged and critical mind, and eventually creating my own. And the thing that he held so dearly, that sense of heart, that’s exactly what I’m striving for now in my own way.
Bil Keane’s death has made me feel a genuine sadness, though I haven’t read Family Circus in years. It might be heavy-handed to say it feels like losing a grandfather, but for some reason that is the comparison that keeps coming to me. The Family Circus did not push many creative boundaries (though his artistic legacy is not without his innovations: the passing of time with a dotted line keeps coming to mind) but there’s no denying its importance in the world of comics, and in the hearts of his readers and cartoonists for years to come. Yeah, that’s a pretty cheesy line, but in the spirit of Family Circus, let’s leave our sarcasm at the door and just accept it. This man was like a grandfather to us, and he will be missed.
Thing: Angry Birds
Saturday, November 5th, 2011
There was probably a time toward the beginning of this century, though I can’t remember for sure, when I swore I would never own a cell phone. After a few years of owning a cell phone, then, I similarly vowed I would never own a smart phone. Once I got a smart phone, I promised myself I would avoid certain trends, such as the ridiculous game Angry Birds, with it’s annoying bug-eyed mascot and overly glorified place in pop culture. Of course (can you see how this trend is shaping up) I now have that very game loaded on my phone, and play it whenever I want to kill some time, and occasionally get obsessed when I reach a level that takes more than a dozen do-overs to beat. It’s probably the worst time-waster I’ve been engaged with since facebook, and the Sims before that, and I threaten every day to uninstall it from my phone.
But, the other day as I was slingshotting disgruntled fowl at a stack of wood and smirking boogers (what are those green things supposed to be?) I learned something about myself. I realized that as I play Angry Birds my brain in engaged in such a way that I begin to make slight adaptations, based on what I’ve learned from previous plays. I adjust my angle, my velocity, and my entire strategy accordingly, and begin to gain certain skill at playing Angry Birds. Yes, I realize that this could be said of most any game, and I realize that the skills acquired in playing those games is generally pretty specific to the game itself, and not terribly useful in the real world – unless of course you find yourself on a mission to recover some kidnapped eggs. But on a very observable level, it showed me the power of our brain to adapt as we take in information, to solve problems, to increase in cleverness. In short, to learn. Which may seem completely meaningless in the context of a cell phone game, but it’s really awesome when you realize that the same brain that learns how to hit its colorful, animated target, is also capable of learning how to solve real life problems and come up with real life solutions. I think it’s harder to notice these adaptations because they happen more gradually, and across more platforms than a single game. But it’s the same brain at work, and it’s dang amazing. And that’s what I recently learned from playing Angry Birds.
Place: The Lodge
Wednesday, November 2nd, 2011
The Lodge is a house in north Portland which is guarded by two magnificent fir trees. When I used to imagine what homes in Portland looked like, nothing comes closer than this place. I spent the afternoon there yesterday drawing with my dear friend (and resident at the Lodge) Jamie. If you notice the door is cracked slightly in this drawing, it’s because Jamie caught me taking photo reference of her house with my cell phone, before coming up the front steps. Oh, Jamie.
Person: Grandma
Tuesday, November 1st, 2011
This is my grandmother in Chicago, when she was 21 years old, looking like a movie star on a Lake Michigan beach. She’s an amazing woman, as no line drawing could possibly capture. Of course I wasn’t born at the time this photo was taken, but I have a lot of great memories with my grandmother at Lake Michigan. When I was just a year older than she was here, I spent part of my summer receiving jaw surgery, and then the rest of that summer recovering. When I was just a few days out of the hospital, my mom and grandma took me to the beach where we had spent so many summer days as kids, Point Beach near Two Rivers, Wisconsin. The sun was twinkling brightly off the waves as we nestled our beach chairs into that familiar mix of warm sand and bark and pebbles. Before us seagulls swooped. Behind us, leafy birch trees rustled in the breeze, and though I myself couldn’t talk, I enjoyed the comforting sound of these lovely women in conversation. I’m convinced that nothing heals the body – and the spirit – like a sunny day at the beach, and my grandma must have known that.
Idea: Wax Fear
Monday, October 31st, 2011
I think I can pinpoint when my visceral distaste for horror began. I was a kid, and we were at a wax museum. Lifelike wax statues of Indiana Jones and Jimmy Stewart and Marilyn Monroe filled me with tourist-trap wonder. Then I wandered into the PG-13 section. There was a warning that said, “No kids,” but I ignored it, I guess. Wax scenes of gruesome deaths and horrifying accidents played out before me. Most of them were pretty mild and clearly fake, and I was unaffected. But there was one that was seared into my memory, where it remains to this day. The scene showed a guillotine, with one prisoner’s neck stretched on the block, being prepared for execution. At the base of the guillotine was a basket containing the severed head of one who had gone before. My eyes were transfixed – this head looked exactly like my next door neighbor, my friend Linda.
I couldn’t shake the image, and even though I knew it was fake, it disturbed me. It represented something real, and stirred my imagination. It made me sad for Linda. I had a hard time convincing myself that she was still back home, alive and well. Even if it wasn’t her, it very well could have been, I mean, it had been someone’s friend. It made me sad for anyone who had ever undergone such a grisly end. It made me sad for humanity. I don’t think I’ve ever shaken that particular sadness.
I hear the arguments: Horror is just a harmless way to get the blood racing, to confront our fears in a safe environment, to make sense of evil. But I don’t buy it. Maybe I’m the one who’s troubled, if I can’t separate fiction from reality, but my issue still lies in that association I felt as a kid – the images may be completely fake, but they represent real horror in the world that is not safe and not fun and not at all entertaining. So all that said, happy Halloween! From the scariest character of them all, the killjoy.
(To defend my reputation against prudishness – not that I need to, of course – I do enjoy a good scary movie. There’s a difference, though, between a suspenseful thriller and a gratuitously gory blood bath. The latter is a phenomenon in entertainment that I will probably never understand.)
Thing: Bikes
Friday, October 28th, 2011
The other day I made the comment that I hate drawing bikes. As soon as I said it, I knew that would have to be the first thing in my nouns exercise. After all, the things we least enjoy drawing are the things that need the most work (generally speaking.) So I propped my bicycle up and sketched it from a couple angles. Clearly I’ve simplified it, but these may be the first bikes I’ve ever drawn with (mostly) accurate bike anatomy. It’s really interesting, though, the things I’m already learning about my own perception in this practice. For example, I already knew that my brain glossed over details to arrive at a “bigger picture.” But as I was drawing this bike I was amazed at the extent to which this happens. Even as I stared right at the bike (the back axle and gears, to be specific) I was seeing it as if through my memory, which has already simplified the bike to basic shapes (two small circles, with a line connecting them, with a seat and handlebars slapped awkwardly on somewhere). I was looking right at it, and drawing not what I saw, but what I (erroneously) remembered, and only by looking long enough did I start to see some of the details. And there are a lot of details! Wires, cables, levers, sprockets, reflectors, bolts, and so forth. This was only day three, so I didn’t force myself to draw all of those details, but it was really interesting to me, to realize that may brain is essentially rejecting details, at any given moment! And that I have to relearn the art of observation, even if it means putting my intuition on hold for a bit. Well, maybe it’s not coming across here as fascinating as I thought it was, but anyway, here’s a drawing of my bike. Meanwhile, if any Gestalt psychologists would like to pick my brain, I’m available.
Place: IPRC
Thursday, October 27th, 2011
I love drawing people. I do not love drawing places. But I do love places. So hopefully my new Nouns exercise will help me to love drawing the places I love. One of those places is the IPRC (Independent Publishing Resource Center) where all the Easel Ain’t Easy zines were created. This summer I started volunteering as one of the office volunteers, so this is the view from that desk, as you look at the front entry and zine library (the largest zine library in the country – come check it out!)
Luke’s choice.
Thursday, October 27th, 2011
Bognor photo by Matt Sanders
In this series I interview the musicians who lent their talents to the Picket Line soundtrack, many of them comics enthusiasts and storytellers in their own right. Portland Oregon’s Luke Mahan splits his time: making music with his solo project Bognor, and making comics under his umbrella Selfish Steam. Bognor wrote the song “Don’t Go There” for the Picket Line soundtrack. He joined me on G-chat to talk about self-publishing, forming bands, and the aquatic craze that is flooding the nation.
B: First question. Who is Bognor?
Luke: Well, Bognor consists of everyone within its township, currently a population of 22,555 which is a nice round number.
B: Haha! Bognor England, right? Your native land.
Luke: Yes. But it is also me. My solo project, which I do eventually want to turn into a band, but as of right now, it’s just me making music in my bedroom. I like to describe it as a mix of, like, Grandaddy, Built To Spill, and Sparklehorse. Or at least, that’s the goal. I’m sure people hear more sort of Bon Iver and Sufjan things. I don’t know. It’s folky with a lot of electronic elements and synthesizers. Though the next record will probably be R&B.
B: That seems like a natural progression for you.
Luke: Right, maybe I’ll father the folk-rap movement.
B: So, I started out asking about Bognor, but I feel like this interview could go lots of directions. Between your music, and your comics, primarily, because you’re involved with multiple projects with both.
Luke: It’s true, but it all ties in at the end, so go where your heart leads.
B: Okay, well let’s keep going with music for now. Since this is all tied into the soundtrack project initially.
Luke: That’s appropriate.
B: You wrote “Don’t Go There” specifically for the soundtrack. What was that experience like? First of all, writing for a book, but also one you hadn’t read yet?
Luke: Haha, yes. Well, most of my songs have some sort of nature/technology theme anyway, so it was quite natural. I knew I wanted to write a song about water again, and I had written this line years and years ago (seriously, like 6 or 7 years) that said “Nothing grows there anymore, so we don’t go there anymore.” I knew your book was about environmental causes and trees, and so that seemed like a perfect fit. We were considering using the track “I Am Not Water” from my album for the soundtrack, and this song is somewhat ironically a response to that song. Everyone knows we’re all made of a huge amount of water, but what that song presupposes is, maybe we aren’t? But the song that went on the soundtrack kind of says “Okay, maybe I am.”
B: Water and whiskey, anyway.
Luke: Exactly. Whiskey is awesome. There’s this scene in Brian Cox’s ‘Wonder of the solar system’ where he talks about arctic ice and says how brilliant it tastes in whiskey. “Death or whiskey; that’s my kind of pond.” I am convinced that lead to that line (“Whiskey rivers in my system sterilize them and the sun’s afraid to show / to show what I should know.”)
B: Yeah, the song has some darkness to it. Maybe death crept in also?
Luke: Yeah, most of my songs are pretty sentimentally introspective. I think despite my shiny exterior, there’s some dark stuff. I guess that’s where it comes out. It’s more positive than it appears, it’s more like “Hey, there’s some dark stuff in my head and it’s not very productive or helpful, so let’s not even go there.”
B: Well, music has always seemed like a healthy outlet for that stuff.
Luke: Definitely.
B: You mentioned this is a solo project, but when you played your songs at the Picket Line release party you had a band.
Luke: Yeah, I hate playing music by myself, especially since my songs are really boring with just a guitar and a voice. On the record, even though the songs at the party didn’t sound anything like it, there are tons of layers of keyboards and percussion and guitars. It’s meant to be texture-based, and not so focused on “technical ability” or “talent.” This record I’ve been referring to, for those who don’t know, is a full length I released in 2008.
B: That’s Breatharian right?
Luke: Breatharian! That’s right. You can download it for free at bognor.bandcamp.com. I played all the instruments and all, because I’m AMAZING. Just kidding. I want to have a permanent band eventually, I just leave everything to the last second, so I bribed some friends the week before the show to be a power trio with me.
B: So, your song-making process right now is very personal, as in you can do it all yourself on your own timeline and make all the creative decisions. How would having a band change that process for you?
Luke: I wouldn’t have to do all the work. And I’d play more than one show a year… the problem is that, yeah, when it’s on my timeline, I take forever to record because for some reason I refuse to overdub. Everything you hear was done in one take.
B: Doesn’t it scare you to give up some of that creative control, though?
Luke: No, I need someone or someones to filter the bad ideas and probably motivate me. And provide more creative input and come up with cool stuff. My ideas get old to me. My bass player at that show is a veteran, and he really kept rehearsals on track. I’m terrible at time management.
B: So, any interested musicians who are reading this, take note!
Luke: Srsly! I think I have most of my band picked out already though.
B: So what’s the holdup?
Luke: Uhhhhm, well I guess, as you noted, I do a lot of creative type things, and right now I’m more occupied with the visual stuff. And I’m tired of all my old songs, so I’m gonna do some writing and recording before I start trying to book shows (another headache) and find practice space.
B: Let’s talk more about those visual projects! Because you, too, draw comics.
Luke: Trewth. I’m mostly making my favorite, longest-running and strangest one: Orcaskine. Because it’s very easy to make, and I enjoy it. I also plan to resume my journal comic and my comic about being a barista (Baristocracy). And I’m excited about a one-panel venture I’m making called Everything In Moderation, which is also the name of my first comic and another one I tried. But it’s more about science, the cosmos and archaeology.
B: That’s quite a diverse lot of projects you’ve got going on there. You mentioned Orcaskine takes priority, in a way. How did that comic get its start?
Luke: It’s funny, like seven years ago I bought a Moleskine “comic and storyboarding” notebook on a whim. Half of it has four tiny panels per page, and I was like “What should I draw a comic of?” The Orca was the first thing I drew, and it remains exactly the same to this day, except with more accurate Orca biology.
B: What’s the benefit of working within such firm parameters like that? Because each comic is the same format, and really, the drawings in most panels don’t change.
Luke: I’ve always been a firm believer in the idea that limitations force creativity, and I’ve had a lot of fun with that. It also is a nice enduring gimmick that I like, one, because it’s small, and two, because I don’t have to make it look really nice. It’s always drawn pen-first, so there’s no do-overs. I think it helps with consistency too. It’s not quite so limiting as a Dinosaur Comics, which is literally the same picture in every panel, for years and years. But it’s not totally open format either, and I’m terrible with decisions.
B: Haha, but you make decisions about the pacing of the the jokes. Do you think it’s refined your comedic timing?
Luke: It’s funny you say that, because in a way, it’s screwed that up for me. With Orcaskine, if there is a punchline, it’s almost never at the end of the strip. The funniest bit is usually in the second or third panels. It’s incredibly self-serving, but it’s also resonated most with other people whose sense of humour is similarly twisted as mine. That, and people just love a good killer-whale.
B: Yeah, you’ve really tapped into a current love of all things aquatic.
Luke: “Selfish Stream.” You’ve always known that about me, even before you did. (Luke is referencing a mistake I commonly make where I refer to his name Selfish Steam as Selfish Stream.)
B: Haha, yes, and even your SONGS are about water! So do you foresee any crossover between your own comics and music projects? Now that you’ve been a part of a crossover between your music and my comics?
Luke: Only in the most literal sense, like drawing journal comics where I’m playing or recording. The worlds definitely overlap though, as far as self-publishing comics and self-publishing music. Putting together album art is really informed by the same aesthetics and physical tools. My friend Kait drew a one panel comic of me which I used in the album art for Breatharian. But I don’t know if I see myself creating content that overlaps much. Although I’ll almost certainly steal your comic/soundtrack idea.
B: Ha, go ahead, I stole it from others, I’m sure!
Luke: I’ll have my Orcaskine collection to release soon. I’ll do it then. I’m working on publishing all my creative efforts on my website. That’s like the hub. The site’s not done yet, but it’s where all my comics urls go to.
B: Yeah, talk a little about self publishing. Like you said, you put your own comics and music out, and of course you put them online.
Luke: It’s just the easiest way to get your output to a lot of people at one time. The internet, I mean. I think people will always value having physical objects such as books, especially in the comics world. The entire economic model for releasing music has changed, so getting on a label isn’t that important unless you’re touring and need a lot of money. This way, it’s virtually cost-free.
B: So for internet publishing it makes sense, but what about when it comes time to making those physical objects? That gets to be an expensive endeavor.
Luke: I really enjoy making objects like my Orcaskine books. I think the fact that they get bought means people value that as well. I guess that’s what I mean as far as self-publishing: making your stuff as you normally would, put it online for free so people can see it, and they will support you and make it fiscally viable if what you do resonates with them.
B: So your online fan base pretty well funds your production line?
Luke: I don’t have any experience putting out anything that costs more than a pittance, so I can’t speak to that really. But as far as my production line goes, I would say it gets funded. I don’t have a cohesive shop online right now though, so it doesn’t happen as much as it should, or could. I guess it’s all just theoretical for me right now. I mean, putting out a book like yours, really high quality and physically, pretty big, something to be super proud of… it’s hard to get that sort of thing funded, and hopefully that’s something I will have to tackle at some point.
B: There’s always Kickstarter.
Luke: There’s always Kickstarter. I have my own issues with that, which maybe aren’t fully formed in my head. But I think that’s a phenomenal way to get people involved and also get some money. It annoys me when bands use it to fund their albums, but that’s it.
B: You do have aspirations to put out a bigger work, then? Like, a graphic novel? Or like you were saying, a collection of other comics?
Luke: Yeah, I’m going to make a really nice collection of my first 200 Orcaskine comics with bonuses and sketches and stuff. I’m terrible at writing stories, so probably not a proper book. I might kill Orcaskine at that point. I really like books. I like how they feel and look and smell. I want to have something like that that I’ve made out there in the world. And I think it’ll make people laugh.
B: What comics do you like?
Luke: Let’s see… I like Overcompensating a lot. Wigu was one of my first webcomics. I think, though, that Nedroid might be my favorite. It’s always so funny, and really cute and simple, but you can tell the dude has great drawing chops. But doesn’t go overboard. It’s really well designed. I’m way more into funny strips than serious things or soaps. Although I read the Comics Curmudgeon every day. It’s a blog that kind of lampoons a select bunch of newspaper dailies, which are all terrible. Your Mary Worth, Spider Man, etc. I mean, Calvin and Hobbes is the biggest, best comic out there for probably most creators. Gary Larson was massively formative for me. Family Circus, which was maybe or maybe not something I read a lot of when I was like six.
B: Family Circus is one of your favorite comics?
Luke: Haha yes, in a way. In that it truly is terrible and so old and incomprehensible most of the time. It’s an interesting study in the timeline of comics.
B: Yeah. And who didn’t love following Jeffy’s dotted path around the neighborhood?
Luke: Exactly! If you take a bike light that is flashing and run around in front of a camera with its shutter open at night, you can recreate that dotted line in real life.
B: I’ll try that.
Luke: I don’t know, comics as a medium has always been… just magnetic for me. I’ve never been able to avoid it, and when people started putting them on the internet, I was like “Yes, this is for me.”
B: That’s awesome… so I hate to ask you this, but if you HAD to choose between music and comics…
Luke: Oh boy, haha. Ummmmmm. Okay, I assume you mean making music or making comics, not listening to music or reading comics?
B: Right.
Luke: Actually, that’s a very hard question. My gut is just to say I’d take music, but thinking about it, I think comics could offer more recognition somehow? Or more economic viability? At least, I do comics more these days than music, and music stresses me out more I think. Gosh, it’s really hard. Any time previously in life, I’d say music no question. I’ll go with my gut. Music.
B: Haha, it’s really not a fair question anyway, so good job. I mean, you don’t have to choose, and you shouldn’t have to. And really, the two probably do influence each other, at the very least in that you’re flexing your creativity, no matter which one you’re using.
Luke: Exactly. Thank you for not making me choose for realsies. That would have been… upsetting.
B: Actually, it was for real. NO MORE COMICS FOR YOU!
Luke: AAAAAAGH!
B: On that note… any final words? Before your career, uh, I mean this interview, is over?
Luke: Hahaha. Well, I will note that I filmed myself this entire time. So we can post an incredibly boring hour long video of my typing responses to you. Which, like, three people will think is really funny.
B: Hahaha yessss, bonus footage!
Luke: Really though, I want to say thank you for letting me talk about myself for so long without feeling like a jerk. Cuz I do that anyway, just usually people don’t want me to, haha.
B: But of course! I find it interesting, and I am sure my readers will also. I insist that they do. I command it.
Luke: Awesome. I’m going to steal them. You know, that’s the rad thing about comics is that we can share readers, and encourage all our followers to get into our friends’ and colleagues’ creations without a feeling of competition. And there’s such an incredible variety, always something new. Keep doing what you’re doing!
B: Exactly! Go team!
Check out Luke’s comics at www.selfish-steam.com and listen to all the greatest hits by Bognor at bognor.bandcamp.com!
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