June 2007 Archives
Link (Thanks, George!)The below images are ads for martial arts courses that appeared in comic books of the late 50s through the early 80s. The ads were usually over the top in their promises to teach you how to smash bricks with your head, turn invisible, fight 12 attackers at one time, and kill a man with your pinky finger. Even including bodybuilding courses, hypno coins, and fake vomit in the equation, there was something especially strange about selling martial arts training through comic book ads. Unlike all those other products, it was unlikely anyone could get hurt or killed by mucking about with a sea monkey. Yet, in truth, all you really got for your 99 cents was a small pamphlet providing ass-backwards instruction in a few techniques, or, more often, a "taster" for the larger course. It's safe to say no one became a martial arts master through a comic book ad.
I first learned about Vallance from Re/Search's Pranks book, where he recounted his now-famous 1978 art stunt of taking a thawed frozen supermarket chicken to a pet cemetery in Los Angeles and straight-facedly requesting it be given a proper burial. (The tombstone read, "Blinky, The Friendly Hen).
His current exhibit contains bits and pieces of his past, each of which carries some kind of personal significance. The items are house in beautiful displays.
LinkThe fragmentary Orange Crush bottle, for example, bears witness to a childhood trauma. “One night during the summer of 1966,” reads the accompanying text, “our family went to the Canoga Park Drive-in Theater to watch Fantastic Voyage. My stepfather brought along bottles of Orange Crush soda. He did not explain why, but instead of a bottle opener he had brought along a pair of pliers to open the bottles. At a certain point during the movie, he said that he would open everyone’s bottles with the pliers. But for some reason, I didn’t want my drink just yet.
“Later, when I got thirsty, my stepfather refused to open the Orange Crush for me. Instead he handed me the bottle and the pliers. I tried in vain to open the bottle — after about 15 minutes I managed only to shake it up, real good. At last, in one violent cataclysm, the bottleneck exploded, sending sharp shards of glass and sticky orange soda pop all over the seats, the ceiling, the windows and the rest of the family. Boy, was I in trouble now! And still thirsty.”
(Click on thumbnails for enlargement) This beautiful hardbound book from Fantagraphics (and what book by Fantagraphics isn't beautifully-produced, I ask you?) reprints the first 3 issues of Ivan Brunetti's misanthropic, black-humored, comic book, Schizo.
By all rights I should be depressed from reading Brunetti's comic strips, gag cartoons, parodies, and multi-page autobiographical stories, but his absurd sense of humor cuts through the bummer factor for me.
Not for kids! $16.47 on Amazon
(Click on thumbnail for enlargement)
This delightful picture book traces the history of outrageous street fashions developed by girls in Japan. From the mean street "bad girls" of he 1960s up to the blackface-makeup wearing manba of today, this book provides a fascinating look at a rich and weird subculture.
The photos and illustrations by Kazumi Nonaka are terrific. $11.53 on Amazon.com
This is an excellent, tragic tale of an impoverished documentary filmmaker who gets involved with a bad-news buddy in horse race fixing scheme, which turns out badly. Worse, the bookies he owes money to seem to love hurting deadbeats more than they love money.
The tile or Keith Dixon's tight, modern-noir tale is a good indicator of the protagonist's M.O. -- I think he is ready to check out, but he wants to end his life in a risky, thrilling way, and still have a chance of making it out alive on the other side.
Released last year, The Art of Losing deserves more attention than it received. $16.47 on Amazon
First published in 1963, this tall board book for little kids has some of the cutest illustrations I've ever seen. My 9-year-old and 4-year-old daughter both love looking at the book, and I enjoy reading it to them.
Gyo Fujikawa's drawings of babies and toddlers is full of sly humor, and is dead-on accurate in depicting moods, actions, and behaviors of youngsters. It's an excellent reference for artists, too. I keep it in my studio. $5.99 at Amazon.com
I enjoy novels that take place in circuses, carnivals, sideshows, etc. The characters are usually flawed and desperate, the jargon is colorful and evocative, the plots are urgent and compelling. The books are great escapes from my life as a desk jockey.
Sara Gruen's Water for Elephants is no exception. The story takes place during the Great Depression. The main character is a young veterinary student who is about to graduate from Cornell when disaster strikes, leaving him penniless and homeless. He jumps a train, which ends up belonging to a circus run by a sociopathic ringmaster. He gets a job in the circus, working under the supervision of the circus' sadistic and paranoid schizophrenic equestrian director. Naturally, our hero falls for his boss' wife, which leads to all kinds of trouble.
The chapters alternate between the protagonist's miserable and humdrum existence in a nursing home at the age of 90 (or 93; he can't remember), and his exciting life in the circus as a young man. To be honest, I could have done without the nonagenarian chapters, which I found really depressing. The rest of the book makes up for it, though. $8.37 on Amazon
Before I start a new painting, I usually draw what I want in Adobe Illustrator, and then transfer a printout of that drawing to canvas or board to paint. I've tried opaque projectors, but the image is faint (at least on the el-cheapo version I use) and I don't really have room to set it up. I've also tried using a piece of paper that I've rubbed pencil or charcoal on, but that produces a blurry line.
Like an idiot, it wasn't until a couple of days ago that I considered the possibility that there might be a transfer paper for artists. Of course, there is one. It's called Saral Wax-Free Transfer Paper, and it works like a dream. It comes in five different colors, but I can get away with blue and white. It leaves a clear, thin line that erases easily and doesn't mess up the color of the paint I use. I'm already hooked on it for life.
If you send a self-addressed, stamped envelope to Saral, they'll send you free samples in all five colors. Link
This 200 page book contains 200 stunts presented in the form of one page comics. Sam Bartlett's prankish sense of whimsy is reminiscent of the best kind of street theater and performance art -- it's thought provoking, funny, and at times mildly annoying.
There's much useful information to be gleaned here: how to make it look as if you have a "rubber knee," how to draw on both sides of a piece of paper at the same time with one pen, how to flip a three-fingered bird (when a two-fingered bird just won't do), how to pop your knuckles for maximum effect; how to slice a banana before peeling it, how to open a beer bottle with your eye socket, and how to make scary looking teeth out of an orange peel.
If you have kids, they'll love you even more when you try out these stunts on them. Kids like to be teased much more than grownups. $20 at Elderly Instruments
Also of interest:
• Pranks
• Penn & Teller's How to Play in Traffic
• Be the Coolest Dad on the Block
This is the best book on painting instruction I've come across. The author, John Howard Sanden, paints like one of my favorite painters, John Singer Sargent, and he produces portraits using the alla prima method -- in his words, "I attempt to execute a finished painting from the very first stroke, without traditional intermediate steps as toning, underpainting, glazing, or scumbling. And I try to complete the entire painting in one sitting, if possible."
His approach can be summarized as "observation and selection," and every chapter offers his information-rich advice on how to do that. I have way too many instructional art books that show complex diagrams for anatomical proportions, color theories, and weird compositional schemes. These mean nothing to me, and I suspect the artists who include these in their books don't use their own teaching methods. Not so with Sanden. He's a no-bullshit teacher. He admits that his "direct attack" style results in many failures, but that just means you rub off the paint and start over. Because when you eventually get it right, this method produces awe inspiring work.
It's a mystery to me why this book is out of print! Fortunately, used copies are available, and the price is reasonable. From $42.29 on Amazon
A few weeks ago I went to see movie version of The Hoax and enjoyed it. It's the true story of a writer named Clifford Irving who, in 1971, wrote an "as told to" autobiography of reclusive weirdo billionaire Howard Hughes. Irving never met or communicated with Hughes, but he was able to fool the publisher and the rest of the world for an entire year. When he finally got caught, he was sent to prison for two years.
I had a feeling Irving's book, The Hoax, would be even better than the movie, and it was. It's a nail-biter. Irving and his partner Richard Susskind's audacity, resourcefulness, and extraordinary dumb luck were almost, but not quite, enough to allow them to pull off the literary fraud of the century.
The most surprising thing to me was how Irving was able to keep his elaborate lie a secret. Only he, his wife, his mistress, and Susskind knew the truth. In the half-dozen or so times that it looked like all was lost and that he was about to be exposed and shamed, he miraculously managed not only to squirm out of it, but to actually bolster the charade that he really was meeting Hughes on a regular basis. When he finally does get inescapably ensnared in his lies, it's for a reason he never had considered.
I love real life thrillers like this. If you know of any other true stories that have the same kind of exciting tension, please let me know. Buy for $11.66 on Amazon
