Insights about comics, prog rock, classic cartoons and films, higher education, sexuality and gender, writing, teaching, whatever else comes to mind, and comics. I know I said comics twice. I like comics!
Feb. 19 is my birthday.
I have new page on the board done and awaiting scanning. But since I didn't want to run in to work to scan today, I'm posting something a bit older, with some pride and some reservations.
This self-portrait was done with multiple exposures on a single negative.
This is intended to show three different facets of me. Looking back on it, it's a bit on the nose, and a little ostentatious. But hey, it was 20 years ago. I've gained weight since then (and was probably too zaftig for the look even then), wear my hair shorter these days, and am not so concerned with the dictates of fashion as I once was.
The print from which the scan was taken is old and weather-beaten, but I still think it's important to try and preserve these things.
Within the next two days, I'll post an additional birthday reminiscence.
You know how it can go- life takes a downturn, you begin to doubt this and that. Am I doing what I'm supposed to be doing, why is everything going South, ad infinitum, ad nauseum. Like Ray Manzarek said on his first solo album (lyrics inspired by Beckett's Waiting for Godot): Why ain't I pretty? How come I'm stupid? Why do I have this here fear? Pretty maudlin, huh? Well, you can get over it if you try. With help. So a couple things come into the melee to help me get over myself. First, a great conversation with someone I trust. Then a forwarded link to this New York Times piece on the very topic. Eminently useful, and I suspect I'll be revisiting it often in days to come. Finally, the impending screening of the Harlan Ellison documentary, Dreams with Sharp Teeth, on Sundance this coming Monday eve, and the DVD on sale the same day. My buying is way down these days, but hey, it's Harlan. Here's a look, and it's on point with the idea that an artist can determine his/her worth by refusing to agree that the work, and by extension the artist, are worth less, or even worthless. Time to get a little fire back in your belly!
