Why, I subscribe to the National Idea File, of course.
Who, or what, are your influences?
In fifth grade I discovered "Ben and Me" by Robert Lawson, and "Homer Price" by Robert McCloskey. I checked out everything I could find by these artist-authors and studied every illustration as if I was cramming for an exam. Then in sixth grade I discovered every mother's nightmare...MAD magazine. I was electrified by Wally Wood! I obsessively filled page after page of my notebooks with Wood-inspired moon craters, bullet holes, and little aliens with their eyes on stalks.
Can't forget N. C Wyeth, and his spiritual heir Frank Frazetta. Pulp illustrators like Mort Kunstler and Norman Saunders, Margaret Brundage...pinup painters like Earl Moran, Rolf Armstrong, Gil Elvgren, Joyce Ballantine and Zoe Mozert.
Lots of others. The incomparable Hal Foster! Milt Caniff, Al Capp, Walt Kelly. Psychedelic artists Victor Moscoso, and Rick Griffin, who was just a so-so cartoonist until he dropped acid. Overnight he became really good - probably the only example you can find of somebody who actually benefited from LSD!
And music, I must have music. Jazz and blues, rockabilly. Vintage stuff like Django Reinhardt and Jelly Roll Morton, Fletcher Henderson.
One thing that really rankles me is this homogeneization of radio - juggernauts like Clear Channel and Cumulus with their pseudo-science of demographics dictating what they know I want to hear. They never asked ME what I wanted to hear! We've got three "classic rock" stations in this town, all playing the same stuff. If they're really classic rock, where's all the Little Richard and Chuck Berry? Radio's no fun any more. No more calling in requests or telling the DJ bad jokes, no more call-in contests...sigh.
Like windsurfing or rock climbing? No, I'm into "Extreme Armchair." Give me good Cajun coffee and a pile of John D. MacDonald books and I'm set to push myself to the limits of human endurance.
So no sports?
Being a sickly kid pretty much quashed any latent interest I might've had there. Eventually the other kids found ways to avoid choosing me for their teams so I had more time to draw or read. I did think horseracing was cool though, and I was devastated when my parents told me you had to be short to be a jockey. Later I did cheer enthusiastically at my kids' baseball games, but being a bleacher creature is about the extent of my sports participation.
I think science fiction's gone the route of popular radio, pandering to some least common denominator - all this mystical tripe about trolls and dragons. Give me Ray Bradbury, Theodore Sturgeon, Philip K. Dick, Fredric Brown, Gerald Kersh...and what I consider the greatest sci-fi novel ever: "The Stars My Destination" by Alfred Bester. It's The Count of Monte Cristo across time and space - a real mind-blower.
But anything that looks interesting, I'll pick it up and read it: archaeology, biographies, history, linguistics, tool catalogues...I have this idea for a book, "Chicken Soup for Dummies."
So that's my main hobby, reading. I also collect world globes and animal skulls. And solve cryptic crosswords.
Ah, a curmudgeon? Really, I've thought about this a lot (and I've had quite a few opportunities.) Creating art, or music, or whatever else, is a driving force that you can't ignore. I've never felt that kind of impetus for anything else, so what would I be? Expendable, I guess. "We need somebody to get run over by a truck." "Call Volpert."
What would you do if you won the Lottery?
I would be one rich curmudgeon.
Yes, wait 'til I'm dead first!
Seriously, don't just plug in graphics software and say, OK, I am now An Artist, I can Design Stuff. Go to art school and find out if you really ARE one. You might discover that you're lacking that basic, ah, that fundamental...what's the word I'm looking for here?
Skill?
Talent. Talent is innate, but they teach you skill. But a mind-numbing arsenal of skills won't disguise a lack of talent.
So take some art classes. Learn the rules first, then you can break 'em all you want.
And try ... I know this is going to sound weird coming from the Village Curmudgeon, but try to stay positive, because business people, left-brainers, the SUITS*, have a tendency to look on artists as non-professionals, children playing with fingerpaints and Play Dough. They will attempt to screw you in ways they'd never dream of trying on any other profession. For instance.
I can't believe how many times I've heard this, practically word-for-word: "I can't pay you, but it'll be good exposure." Exposure, my friends, is what people DIE of.
Or a variation on that theme; a guy says, "Do this job for me for free and I'll swing a lot of business your way." (A.) He won't. (B.) But if he actually DOES, it'll be somebody expecting the same great deal you gave his buddy - FREE ART.
And watch out for the well-meaning pro spouting buzzwords like "bottom line," "parameters," and "synergies." He's going to look you earnestly in the eye and say, "Now I want you to think outside the box." That's what you already DO. But as soon as the words are out, he has put you IN one. From which your chances of escape are slim.
*Remember, these are people who think "aggressiveness" is a desirable trait.
Probably, now that I've tossed the idea out there. Some bright young entrepreneur will invent it. And make a killing, no doubt.
Any regrets, looking back?
Regrets? I've had a few. But then again, too few to mention.
Do you have any questions?
Is that a real poncho, or is that a Sears poncho?
