Goodbye George, Fun With Censorhip

With George Calrin's recent death, his Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television (a sort of reexamination of which is in the above video) was mentioned about as often as his actual passing. But it wasn't until I gave the routine another listen and read more on the history of the Supreme Court case surrounding it that I gained an appreciation for just how much he accomplished with this single 1972 seven minute string of words. Just words, think of that.

So amid this reading up a bit on the history of the effect of simple words and thoughts and on censorship generally, my brother-in-law Dan's recommendation of this "censored" video from The Brighton Port Authority (featuring the voices of David Byrne and Dizzee Rascal) was perfectly timed. I don't know much about The Brighton Port Authority other than they seem to have a knack for working with great people and having fun with the conventions of what our fragile minds can handle. Somewhere in the seventies, George is smiling.

"I Am The (Badass) Law"

The Onion always manages to make me grin, with at least one headline per issue pulling an audible chuckle. But coming from a family with a mother who is a judge (the stalwart joke being: aren't they all?) and a little sister who works in the DePaul University Death Penalty Legal Clinic, this one had me laughing to the point of snorting. Tragically hilarious.

Midwest Meets That Heroin Chic

Next Saturday is the opening in Paris for "Midwest" at Galerie Anne Barrault, so I thought I'd post the flier here as well as alerting all those fans of both comics and the French Vogue magazine, that they can read all about the show there. Please send me photographs of you doing so, sporting a beret, picking nonchalantly at a baguette's crust. Throw in a dusty edition of Camus in the background while you're at it, make my year.

Big Apple, City of Lights

This weekend, I'll be signing at the Fantagraphics table at the MoCCA festival in New York. I'll be staring blankly at passersby from 3 to 4pm on Saturday and 2 to 3pm on Sunday. Stop by and ask me where somebody else is, I'll do my best to redirect you. Or we can just stare blankly at one another. Our options are limitless.

And in a couple weeks, I will not be attending (due to scheduling conflicts), but encourage everyone else in the vicinity to attend the opening on June 21st of "Midwest" at Galerie Anne Barrault in Paris, featuring drawings by Anders Nilsen, Jeffrey Brown, and myself (above and below are a couple more of my drawings of Ulysses S. Grant that will be in the show). If for some reason you're in Paris (like you live there, or forgot that the American dollar is worth less than toilet paper), stop by. Anders' massive landscape drawings alone are worth the cost of the plane ticket.

Rock Stars, Please Be Seated: The Muldoons

There are few things that disturb me more than children who have learned to "act," who take on the pretensions and conventions of adults in an effort to win adult favor. It's an undeniably gross spectacle. But The Muldoons, comprised of a father and his two sons both below the age of twelve, fly right past that, straight into authenticity and kick-you-in-the-crotch rock.

I saw this trio at the Do Division street festival here in Chicago yesterday and left immediately afterward, knowing there was no way anyone was going to top them. Their stage presence should be a warning to most bands: you are very, very boring to watch... please start eating cameras, jumping on each other's back, leaping from amps, collapsing on stage, etc.

I should note that their online recordings don't really do them justice, as eight year-old Shane's voice sounds far wimpier (as one might expect at age eight, after all) than it does distorted in a live setting. But give Robot Car a listen, and you'll get a sense of where these kids are headed.

It's a scary thing to see kids act like adults, but it's scarier (in a good way) when they're plenty real and far better than their elders. The Muldoons aren't acting, they're playing. And playing better than most.

Further Excursions Into Alien Boots

A couple months ago, I traveled to Bologna for the Bilbolbul festival. As I'm horribly behind (about a couple months) on doing anything related to posting, I'll throw in a few notes here and there but otherwise let the pictures speak for themselves (for a far better recounting of treasures and exhibits of the festival proper, feel free to read Paul Gravett's recollections (and thanks to Paul for interviewing Kevin Huizenga, Anders Nilsen, and me at the festival... Mr. Gravett was, as usual, a gentleman and a scholar)).




Anders, Kevin (and Kevin's wife), and I spent the first few days setting up our exhibit in Palazzo d'Accursio in Piazza Maggiore (a few shots of Piazza Maggiore at night are at the end of this post).






My favorite element in this high-ceilinged room was a fresco titled "Madonna of the Earthquake." If I'm remembering the title incorrectly, I don't want to know.



On the last day of setting up the exhibit, I was driven across town along with Hong Kong cartoonist Chihoi Lee (who I'd met briefly in Switzerland last year) for a radio interview. We were both asked to pick a song to play during our segments. I, being painfully predictable, chose Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart," Chihoi chose Leonard Cohen's "So long, Marianne." I've been hooked on the song ever since.





Toward the center of town there are two towers, one leaning (though not so much as its cousin in Pisa) and truncated (from what, I haven't taken the time to research) and one to whose top you could climb, on a series of shallow wooden steps. When I reached the top, winded, red-faced, saturated with sweat, a lithe octogenarian Italian was there, joking and laughing with full lungs. I couldn't understand what he was saying exactly, but it had to be something along the lines of "kid, you're out of shape."






I don't know why I'm such a sucker for these scenes: people taking pictures of each other with people dressed in costumes. There's something simultaneously bizarre/innocent/scary/reassuring/creepy about the whole thing. I should probably spend more time thinking about this. But they were handing out free chocolate, so my analysis could only go so far. My sweet tooth is a moron.




And, as promised, Piazza Maggiore at night:

(While Bologna might not be the tourist draw of other locales in Italy, this square is pretty impossible to not love at night. The age of this place, absent in the city center of any American town (and present only in an increasingly destroyed portion of our land and native population), is almost palpable, though I imagine that this is only because I was foreign, having grown up in an "old house" that dates back a mere one hundred fifty years. The people of Bologna, clearly immune, just smoked, exchanged, and walked over their ancient city, built upon past ancient cities, those past efforts visible through see-through floors, here in a library, there in a restaurant.)

When My Brain Needs To Do Some Melting

I just put myself in the path of the capably possessed pencil of Renee French, who has a new blog that's updated every time you think it could be. There is a god, and it's weirdly sweaty.

Pusy Gums Pwns The Physical Realm

DJ Douggpound and Pusy Gums Johnson. Together again for the first time. Little else can, or should, be said.

Just get yourself ready for the re-mix.

"A modified heart, only with a mind, or brain"

Dear God of Production: please produce this in Region 1 encoding so I can bask in it daily on my North American system. Thank you.

All These Reputable Wallmates

Also in New York on April 2nd, "Lots of Things Like This," curated by Dave Eggers, will have its opening reception at Apexart, from 6 to 8 pm (I'll be stopping by early then bustling to Brooklyn for the afore-posted "Omega the Unknown" signing).

The show runs until May 10th, and though I've yet to see all the individual pieces involved, the cast is impressive (to put it mildly). That complete cast is:

Jean-Michel Basquiat, Leonard Cohen, David Berman, Ted Berrigan, Joe Brainard, Georges Braque, Jeffrey Brown, R. Crumb, Henry Darger, Marcel Duchamp, CM Evans, Shephard Fairey, David Godbold, Alasdair Gray, Philip Guston, Paul Hornschemeier, Jay Howell, Chris Johanson, Maira Kalman, Kenneth Koch, David Mamet, Quenton Miller, Tucker Nichols, Alice Notley, Ron Padgett, Raymond Pettibon, Dan Perjovschi, Amy Jean Porter, Steve Powers, Royal Art Lodge, Peter Saul, George Schneeman, Olga Scholten, David Shrigley, Shel Silverstein, Nedko Solakov, Ralph Steadman, William Steig, Saul Steinberg, Kurt Vonnegut

(Above: Kurt Vonnegut, Trout's Tomb, 2004)

Omega in New York, Dartmouth

On April 2nd and 3rd, the gang behind Omega the Unknown will be convening on the east coast. April 2nd, the entire group (Jonthan Lethem, Farel Dalyrmple, Gary Panter, Karl Rusnak, and myself) will be signing at Rocketship in Brooklyn. The following day, Jonathan, Farel, and I will be hopping into a car and rolling toward Dartmouth College (whose motto "Vox clamantis in deserto", or, apparently, "a voice crying out in the wilderness," causes me concern... as does the fact that such a reputable school still can't spell me last name correctly), where James Sturm will moderate a discussion about... well, whatever it is that will spill out of our mouths. I look forward to making Ivy League-level fart jokes.

World Wide Nilsen

Speaking of Anders, be sure to stop by his fantastic new site, filled with a great mix of recent and past endeavors. And if you haven't seen Anders' cover for Simon Armitage's dramatization of The Odyssey, do yourself a favor: buy three, give two to friends. Everyone's a winner.

Ulysses in The Parisian Summer

With a nod to Anders, who posted some of his drawings for this show some time ago, I thought I'd post a few of the drawings I'll be presenting at our group show (Anders, Jeffrey Brown, and myself) at Galerie Anne Barrault this June in Paris.

Most of these are on the larger side (around 20x30") and serving as conceptual drawings for a planned book on Ulysses S. Grant. The book is years down the road, but when I was worrying over what to do for the show (the general theme of which is "Midwest"), I could think of few people more thoroughly Midwestern than good ol' Ulysses.

Another Way to Spell That Thing

For those that tire of attempting to piece together the many (some would argue superfluous) letters of my last name, this cover I've just finalized for the Korean edition of "Mother, Come Home" (complete with a wood pattern wrap-around band at the bottom) should offer an elegant solution. Or anyway, I think that's my name on there somewhere. For all I know, it says, "Horrible book! Avoid like the plague."

(Above, the book (back cover, spine, and front cover) with band; below, the book by itself)

End of a Space Odyssey

Farewell to Arthur C. Clarke, who warped millions of minds teaming up with Kubrick for "2001: A Space Odyssey." That cinematic icon seems to overshadow Clarke's contributions to the popularization of science and space exploration, and the nearly one hundred books he wrote, though they were massive achievements in their own right. All in all, an astronomical contribution from the son of a Minehead farmer.

Goodbye, Mr. Clarke.