the Velvet Grindstone

2012-01-09T19:51:00.001-08:00

Shmee.

August 15, 1997 - January 7, 2012

2011-11-30T15:55:00.000-08:00

Regular Show

Wonderful news, everyone! I just accepted a position at the Cartoon Network's Regular Show as a writer/storyboard artist! And I'm moving to LA in a little more than two weeks!

Whaaaat?!

Yes! It's true. I'm so excited and reeling from the news. This all happened incredibly fast.

I was approached by JG Quintel, the show's creator, at my table at NYCC last month. He bought my book (thanks JG!) and asked if I'd be interested in taking the storyboard test. I'd considered looking into applying for a job at the Cartoon Network while I was down in LA this August, but it always seemed like something I'd try out for later on, sometime in the future. But I took the test as soon as I got back into Portland, it was surprisingly enjoyable, and I sent it off with a wistful "what if." Little did I realize that only a month later I would be scrambling to pack my bags, rent out my house, and jumping the ol' Portland ship for sunny Burbank. Funny how life goes!

This is an incredible opportunity, and I was delighted with LA the last time I visited, but of course I'm also sad to leave Portland after TEN years of living here. However, change is good, and I've felt the need for some new stomping grounds more and more often over the last few years. This is going to be a new chapter in my life and I couldn't be more ready. I plan to continue to work on RENAISSANCE in the meantime while I explore my new city and write some hilarious stuff for Regular Show. Man oh man! I can't wait!

2011-10-10T18:10:00.000-07:00

Off to New York Comic Con!

Hey folks: just a quick update on my signing schedule at NYCC. I'll be there Thursday afternoon and all day Friday, Sat and Sunday. I'll be signing copies of my book at the Oni Press booth the following times:

FRIDAY 10/14 3:00 - 3:45
SATURDAY 10/15 12:00 - 12:45

The rest of the time I'll be selling books and prints over at table L-3 in Artists' Alley. I've got my new Ivy print, so please stop by and check it out!

2011-10-03T10:22:00.000-07:00

Upcoming shows - Wordstock and New York Comic Con!

Hey folks! If you are in Portland or NYC, please come out to one of the fine comics and literary events coming up this month, and stop by to say hello!

WORDSTOCK - October 8-9, Oregon Convention Center in Portland. Our entire studio will be representin' in the Stumptown Comics Garden, booth 327. We'll have books, prints and other merch for sale, as well as penciling and inking demonstrations from the studio members all week!

NEW YORK COMIC CON - October 13-16, Javits Center, NYC. I'll be at table L3 next to my RENAISSANCE collaborator, Fred van Lente. We'll have a preview copy of the first chapter, AND I will be debuting a special Ivy-themed print!

This print will be available on my website after the show.

Hope to see you there!

2011-09-12T09:54:00.000-07:00

Dylan Williams.

This is so hard to write.

It's been two days now since I heard about Dylan's unexpected passing - two days in which my memories of him have been resurfacing, a collective outline of a person who had been a longtime and notable part of my life in Portland. It's hard to believe he is gone; it doesn't quite seem real yet. Only over time will the full scope of the loss make itself known, but even now I am understanding and appreciating what a friend Dylan was, and how much I and so many others will miss him.

I met Dylan when he came to pick me up from the airport with Shawn Granton, the week I flew out to look for an apartment here in Portland, during the summer of 2001. Even then he was driving around total strangers as a favor to his friends. He was one of the first people I hung out with at drawing nights, early-2000s-era Zine Symposium, the IPRC. Right off the bat he set himself apart with his obvious and total dedication to the world of comics. Dylan loved this artform in a deep and all-encompassing way. We had many talks over the years about our dedication to this medium, how hard it was to make a living or get work seen, but how we couldn't imagine doing anything else. He was one of the devoted ones who felt it in his blood, who would stay surrounded by it all his life, immersing himself in the books and the theory, and above all else the people.

Perhaps the foremost quality about him that so many of us are noting now, what made Dylan so fucking unique, was his compassion. He cared so deeply about others. So many times I would veer into opening up to him about my personal troubles, getting into deep dark emotional territory, and he would nod and listen and commiserate. He knew how to respond without getting dark himself. He understood pain, but he rarely shared his own - he just offered himself to me as a sympathetic ear, a concerned friend. I never heard him speak ill of anyone. He had an astounding capability to see into peoples' work - stuff I had long written off in some cases - and pull out what made it good, point out its strengths as if explaining an unknown language.

I saw lots of Dylan here in Portland, but I rarely made plans to hang out - it was always a given that we would run into each other at a show or fest or someone's art opening. I'd be working my table and he would sneak up from the side, catching me off guard with a muttered comment, and within seconds we'd be doubled over laughing. I'd see him at drawing nights sitting on a couch with a book in one hand and a cat under the other. Sometimes the only contact we'd have would be a raised eyebrow over the tops of a crowd at a busy event, but I always caught it and I knew what it meant: "Crazy shit, huh? Crazy that we're even here!" Crazy and lucky.

The truth of it is that we are all living on borrowed time; the reality of that has never hit me so hard as in the past few days. I count myself as one of the luckiest to have had the chance to know Dylan for so long. I had assumed that we would have more time together, more chances to run into each other in the near future, but I was wrong. I am truly thankful for every encounter I had with him, and his passing is making me even more grateful for each one of my friends and the people I am close to.

I will miss you, Dylan, so fucking much. I already do.

2011-08-11T07:32:00.001-07:00

Book signing in LA!

Hey folks! If you are in or around Los Angeles this coming Saturday, August 20, why not head over to Meltdown Comics (7522 West Sunset Boulevard)? I'll be there signing copies of IVY, selling prints and enjoying the California summer. If you're in the area, please stop by and say hello!

2011-05-18T14:12:00.000-07:00

Brooklyn Bound.

It's been a busy and interesting spring over at Sarah O Headquarters, but for quite some time I've been feeling restless and wanderlust-y. So when, last week, I saw my friend Sarah Glidden had posted her Greenpoint apartment up for a two-week sublet, I jumped at the chance to escape the beautiful, maddening clutches of Portland for a fortnight and relocate to the wilds of the east coast, reclaiming my big-city college years as a worldly 30-something with more street savvy and some extra cash to spend.

The view from the roof is fairly amazing.

I've been here only a day and I already feel recharged. Despite being caught in a soaking downpour, I went to the Museum of Folk Art on its free day, checking out the staggering quilt exhibit. I've met up with my fabulous collaborator Fred van Lente, mutually stroking each others' egos about our incredible project RENAISSANCE. And this afternoon I'm going to brave the rain and wander the neighborhood, acquainting myself with this livable, beautiful part of town. I was a little worried about how I would feel coming back out here - the last time I flew into Newark was just five months ago, visiting New Jersey with my boyfriend only a week before he up and dumped me. But I wanted to overlay those sad memories with some new, exciting ones, and also recapture that sense of adventure and self-reliance I used to feel when I pushed myself out of my comfort zone, back when I was younger and had nothing to lose.

This trip will be grand. I have a sketchbook, my Cintiq, and the desire to wring some new experiences out of this enormous, familiar, no-longer-intimidating city. And hopefully find some rockin' platforms while I'm out and about. I want it to be a spiritual and creative reawakening, and what better place for people-watching, aimless meandering, culinary exploration, and catching up with old friends than New York? I'll see you in a few weeks, Portland. Keep the home fires burning for me.

2011-04-04T09:45:00.000-07:00

The Portland Opera strikes again!

I've been lucky enough to participate in the Portland Opera's Drink and Draw Comics Nights, wherein a group of us ink slingers get to sit in on a dress rehearsal and draw our little hearts out to the actors onstage, trading drawings for entertainment (and little plastic jugs of wine!). It's been a wonderful experience and I've appreciated the exposure to an entire art form that I'd previously never explored. Right now the current production is of two plays - L'Heure Espagnole, a lighthearted, double-entendre-ridden romp in a clockmaker's shop, and L'Enfant et les Sortileges, a somewhat darker cautionary tale about what happens to naughty children when left alone at night. Portland Opera's productions are very modern and witty, and if you've never been to the opera, these are a great place to start. Here's my illustration from L'Heure Espagnole - the clockmaker's wife, surrounded by two potential paramours who fall a bit... short... of her expectations.

2011-03-28T16:10:00.001-07:00

I'm updating on the new Tranquility Base Tumblr!

Hey folks! You might have noticed I haven't been very active on this blog lately. Well, there's a reason! Besides working on a super-secret comic (okay, not THAT secret) whose pages must remain a mystery until its big reveal this fall, I've been posting new work on my studio's tumblr - Tranquility Base. And since that site isn't just my work but also the works of my super-talented studio mates, its updated MUCH more frequently. Head on over and check it out! Here's a sample of the sort of goofy weekly sketch challenges we've been doing: it's me as a Fraggle for our popular Muppet Yourself week.

Go, read, enjoy!

2011-02-26T10:02:00.001-08:00

A Quick Update.

Hey folks. I just wanted to post with a quick update of my confirmed signing schedule at various comic shows this year. I may add dates to this as the year progresses, but so far this is where I'm gonna be:

March 4 - 6 SEATTLE Emerald City Comic Con
April 16 - 17 PORTLAND Stumptown Comics Fest
October 13 - 16 NYC New York Comic Con

If you're at any of those shows, I'll be splitting my time with my own table and the Oni Press booth, so be sure to stop by and say hello! I'm also planning to make new prints (not in time for Emerald City, alas) but by Stumptown, I should have new art for sale.

I've been busy as hell on my excellent new project, which I have been leaking some information about in various interviews, but I'll have a full reveal some time soon. It's been difficult for me to update as much as I'd like lately, but a new website is in progress and I have some plans for my spare creative time with some personal things in the near future. I've been going through a lot in my personal life; I recently got dumped, unexpectedly. I also discovered that one of my cats has terminal cancer, with only a few months left to share with her, so I am spending as much time with her as I can before having to make the difficult final call. The upside to these things is that I have been drawing and writing in a way I haven't been able to access in many years - for personal release instead of professional obligation - and that in itself has been an enormous help, not to mention the constant support of my friends. I'm just working toward being in a better place, and once again my favorite adage rings true:

"When life is a shitstorm, art is your only umbrella."

Take care of yourselves, folks.

2011-01-20T21:56:00.000-08:00

It's finally here! AND I'm having a book release party!

After so many years, I finally have the first copy of my book, hardbound, in my hand. I'm so proud. Oni Press did an absolutely beautiful job and I'm so happy with the result - it's the book I always imagined. It will hit stores Wednesday, February 2nd.

Floating World Comics will be hosting my release party and signing this upcoming First Thursday from 6 - 10 pm., so if you're in Portland please stop by, say hello, check out the book, grab a beer etc. I'll have original pages up on display as well. It's all so overwhelming!

2010-12-11T04:11:00.000-08:00

Rest in Peace, Hedy Hen.

It's 4:10 in the morning and I'm writing this in the dark on my couch, having been woken up an hour ago by the most horrible screams from my backyard. I knew what was happening, but it took me forever to fumble my glasses on my face and find my bathrobe and a bike light to act as a flashlight. I ran out back and saw the giant raccoon in the coop, growling and hissing at me, as my birds tumbled over each other in fright against the door. I opened it up and scooped them out, chasing them to the side of the house, and waited for the raccoon to slide its way out of the narrow gap it had dug under the bottom of the coop. It ran to the tree alongside the neighbor's garage and climbed up to the roof, then turned around at the top and stared at me as though challenging me in the dark.

I heard so much silence. I couldn't see anything. I opened the back door of the henhouse, expecting to see carnage, but there was nothing. Then I looked down at the ground underneath and there it was.

Ryland was still awake, and I got him to stand guard over the shaken, unhappy birds while I went in and put on some barn clothes. I opened up the garage and picked the pitchfork. I apologized over and over to her as I used the fork to drag what was left of her into a plastic bag. I tied up the handles and as I picked the bag up, I realized that this was the last time I'd hold her, on the way to the trash, and I felt such a sense of having let her down. I knew this could happen, that something could dig under the sides, and I never took care of it, I just let it go and let it go and now one of my chickens got killed and eaten.

It took a while to herd the three hens back into their coop. They didn't want to go. I lifted each one into the house and slid the metal door shut after them. The raccoon watched everything from the tree branches above.

I loved Hedy. She had a bright, lively personality and an entertaining demeanor. But as a year younger than the other hens, she was never fully accepted into their flock, and when her brother Boomer was taken away last year, she had to learn to adjust on her own. She was often picked on, but she always ran out first for food and treats and didn't let the bigger birds bother her. I loved her goofy cheeks, her green eggs, her god-awful "scraaaaaw" sound she made all day long. I feel as though my negligence let her down.

I'm sorry, little bird. I hope you enjoyed your time in my backyard. I enjoyed it very much.

2010-11-11T13:32:00.000-08:00

Tiger Girl on the Covered Blog

Hey folks!

If you haven't been checking out the Covered blog, now's a good time to do so. Not only is it run by one of my favorite cartoonists, the esteemed Robert Goodin, but it's an interesting and entertaining collection of classic and modern comic book covers, reinterpreted by a wide variety of artists. Below is my colorfully autumnal contribution, amended to make the tagline read a little more like a trashy 60's pulp movie poster and a little less like the bombastic, nonsensical comic drivel that is Tiger Girl through and through. Click to see it larger.

I've been neglectful with this blog, but I've got lots of juicy details of things coming up. Stay tuned!

2010-10-08T12:31:00.000-07:00

Fall is here, too soon.

With it comes a crush of activity followed by aching waits. I've been doing my best to keep on top of everything - meeting deadlines, making quick decisions, fixing problems and tying up loose ends. It's been hard just to keep my house livably clean. I haven't taken the time lately to maintain a good state of mind by getting out during these last few days of beautiful weather, but the garden continues to produce, the chickens to crap and eat, the apples to fall uneaten off the tree.

I've been juggling a few things - trying to meet the requirements of one publisher for my existing book while producing sample pages and character designs for another publisher's potential upcoming project. It's been mostly frustrating and unpleasant. The stakes for my first book seem so high to me, and while I know I tend to overthink things that are Important with a capital I, it's hard to just "wing it" when it's the COVER. But lately I've been feeling very on-my-own, working in an echo chamber where the only things I'm left with are my own thoughts and decisions, bouncing back at me endlessly. I just hope that by going with my gut I'll be making the right choices. I've had mixed experiences in the past doing this - sometimes it's right on, and other times I do something just to have ANYTHING done and the result is something I look at with distaste for the rest of my life. God, I don't want that to happen with my book!

In any case, those leaves above are a design element in my wraparound cover. I like them. Once again the image I'm working on corresponds to the environment outside, even though I've had this plan for the cover for years. We'll see. Send me some good vibes, please... I need them these days.

2010-09-22T10:31:00.000-07:00

Comics at the Crossroads, Comics at the Opera!

It was a whirlwind weekend. Saturday was the opening of the Maryhill Museum's Comics at the Crossroads exhibit, in which I have a page from Ivy hanging amongst the standout work of about 40 other Pacific Northwest cartoonists. The drive out was bleak and beautiful - the Maryhill is an hour and a half east of Portland and situated right on the Washington side of the Gorge. It's a staggeringly stately mansion up on the hillside, with an exhaustive exhibit of artifacts and handmade items from a variety of Native American tribes, a collection from the Queen of Romania's turn-of-the-century hand-carved furniture, couture-clad mannekins from post-war French fashion designers in a display called the Théâtre de la Mode... all very impressive. I had a wonderful time just exploring the building; its history is laid out in one of its ground-floor rooms.

Then, back to Portland for a lazy birthday Sunday, wherein Geoff and I walked around Alberta and took things slowly with cocktails at Branch and a sushi dinner at Yakuza. I still can't believe I'm 33.

Monday was another big event - twenty or so comics artists were invited to see a dress rehearsal of Pagliacci and Carmina Burana, put on by the Portland Opera. In exchange for food, drinks, a backstage tour and the show, we merely had to draw during the performance in a symbiotic art exchange. Count me in! It was lavish and incredible - over seventy chorus members on stage at a time, plus the grand setting of the Keller Auditorium with its high ceilings and cement pillars. I'd never been to an opera before and I was completely floored. If you get a chance to see this production, I can't recommend it highly enough.

Also amazing was the art produced by the cartoonists in attendance. I got a sneak peek at some peoples' work via Twitter, and I'll post a link once I know where they will be collected online. Here are some of my better brush-pen visual notes from the show. It was difficult to capture the motion of the dancers, flying around and leaping, but I did my best. The costumes were intricate and really fun to sketch, plus there was a vintage pickup truck on stage for most of Pagliacci. They really pulled out all the stops for this one and I was honored to be there to see it.

Tonio during his introduction

Canio

Tonio rebuffed

Pagliaccio, the saddest clown

Dancers in Carmina Burana

2010-09-18T11:54:00.000-07:00

I'm nominated for a Lulu award!

Friends, Ivy - the character, not the book - has been nominated for Best Character over at the Friends of Lulu awards this year. If you are so inclined, please head on over and vote for her and your other favorites at this link. I'm honored to be nominated! Voting closes on September 27.

2010-07-31T13:37:00.000-07:00

Grow yer Own, City Slicker!

I was recently given the book "Farm City" by Novella Carpenter by my lovely boyfriend, who grabbed it for me before his most recent visit and job-scouting mission to Portland, and I had a hard time putting it down while he was here. In it, the author takes over an undeveloped lot next to her apartment in Oakland and not only grows an enormous vegetable garden, but raises a variety of animals and poultry for meat and eggs. Reading this book, I saw myself in five years: how do I take what I have to the next level? How do I best use the land I have to provide what I need? After losing my job and flailing to get on my feet as a freelancer, these concerns suddenly jumped from hypothetical, nebulous future dreams into sharp reality.

I was born at home to two aspiring back-to-the-land hippies who raised goats and chickens, selling eggs and milk and building their own barns and structures in a semi-rural area of Massachusetts. Thirty-some-odd years later and I live in a fairly dense neighborhood in a well-appointed small West Coast city. I have a large, mostly private backyard which is shaded under a perimeter of large, leafy trees on three sides. My attempts to grow food back there have been only partially successful. This spring was cold and rainy, unseasonably so, and the pear tree failed to fruit. Almost every seed I planted failed to sprout or was taken by the birds. So this is the year I am planning Round Two: The Front Yard.

My front lawn, at the moment, is dried and yellow with patches of clover and tall dandelions. The two apple trees out front are twice as tall as their hunched, unnaturally dense state three years ago when I moved in, before I started my twice-yearly pruning to open them up and aerate them, growing them away from the gnarled bushes they had been forced to become. Apple Tree East is lined with small ripening fruits, but they are dotted with black scars. No beauties this year, but my plans for them don't involve aesthetics. Apple Tree West, the worse off of the two, is still striving for health, but she has one visible fruit this year - her first since I've lived here. Once the fruits ripen fully in September and October, I'm going to try my hand at fermenting gallons of hard cider. I'm still deciding what to plant as a ground cover underneath, along the sidewalks. Mint? Some of the hundreds of strawberry runners I clipped from my plants this week and set to rooting in a shallow bucket of water?

The front yard is as ugly as it is neglected. No fence or border separates it from the yard of the empty house next door, which until only three weeks ago had armpit-high uncut grass and weeds choking out the sidewalk. However, unlike the idyllic and barbecue-friendly backyard, it gets full sun all day long. It would only make perfect sense to grow my herbs and veggies out there.

Where to begin? I don't want to start digging up chunks of resistant sod and laying out hideous sheets of cardboard to kill the grass, as some of my neighbors have done before putting in beds and walkways and retaining walls. I dug up a tiny corner of the yard a week ago to plant my new forsythia bush and it took so much out of me, I could barely haul a bucket of water to soak the little guy. I dream of embedding trellises along the property line to support grapevines, but I'd have to hire an installer to help me out, and my cash flow is nil right now. I have a plan in mind for the long run - a border of large decorative perennials and herbs to discourage passersby from sneaking food from the central veggie garden, which may or may not be in raised beds (another expen$e I can't quite foot at the moment), with a flagstone pathway from the front stoop to the street in a central arc. I want to grow berries, mint, tea, flowering bulbs, scented vines, plants that attract bees and hummingbirds. Right now there are two giant terracotta pots with some straggly crocosmia shoring up the concrete slab of a front stoop, a squat round daphne with its little pal of a hosta next to it, and the aforementioned forsythia, which I bought in anticipation of its springtime yellow flowers. Not much to look at yet.

Even though I know I'm at stage 1 of at least 10, I feel pretty good about the things I've managed to grow, raise, pickle and brew so far. The four goofy hens out back give me 2 to 3 eggs a day these summer months, and their shit in the compost was what made the strawberry transplants I put in this spring go WILD with fruit and runners. I've expanded my kombucha operation from 2 to 3 giant jars, with a fourth in the works for the next round in a week or so, and the collection of flip-top glass bottles has filled two of my cabinet shelves in the kitchen in between cycles. The kombucha I've made so far has been the best-tasting I've ever drank, and I suck down a bottle a day when I can, trying desperately not to run out before the next batch has had its chance to ferment. I'm about to head out back and put in a thick run of winter leeks in a last-ditch attempt to wring SOMETHING out of the freshly-turned beds back there. My sunflowers came back from the brink of death and are almost as tall as I am, protected from the winds by the garage. Thrifting far afield, outside of Portland, has yielded dozens of canning jars at a fraction of the price of buying them new in stores, so it's off to Freddy's for me to grab fresh lids and some more pickling spices from the bulk bins. I've got envelopes of seeds scavenged from friends and the neighborhood. I can't wait to get this operation going.

2010-07-15T14:51:00.000-07:00

Talent vs. Intimidation

I recently took a book of Frank Frazetta's art out of the library and read it cover to cover several times over the course of a week. He truly was an amazing craftsman, taking many different media and shaping beautiful, solid forms out of the darkness, sliding his brush over smooth fleshy shapes, grinding it in to evoke harshness. No one could question the man's abilities and lasting contribution to 20th century popular art, and I was saddened to think of his recent death and how despite the enormous quantity of art he produced, there wouldn't be more.

A painting of Ellie by Frank Frazetta

Still, there was one quote in the book that set me thinking, and it wasn't from Frazetta himself. It came from the chapter about his late wife, Ellie, who acted as his business manager and who was the real behind-the-scenes powerhouse capable of taking a very skilled artist and making him a NAME. The book doesn't downplay Ellie's achievements or her position in Frank's success, either - it gives her plenty of credit and even showcases one of her own watercolor paintings from the mid-50s. Beneath the painting lies this quote, almost overlooked as it is not part of the main text of the book:

"I received a few art prizes in school, but once I met Frank - wow! I realized the difference between Art and what I could do - forget it! - so I put my paints away for good."

This made me so sad.

I don't think Ellie was ever asked to stop painting by Frank, or was somehow made to stop doing it by her circumstances or the time and place she lived in. I think she let the towering talent next to her stop her from doing something she may or may not have mastered, but enjoyed. And I completely understand, because I have felt like this many times in my life.

One of my personal flaws that I am aware of and struggle with (occasionally) is that sometimes I let myself get psyched out by what I perceive as another person's superiority. I see someone's brilliant art and instead of appreciating it, or being inspired, I feel insignificant and devalued. I wonder why I even try. I cringe when I think of what I can produce, in comparison. It's much worse when the person is younger than I, or a peer doing something similar to what I do. I hate feeling this way. I know it's bullshit, and yet it tugs at me more often than I'd like to admit.

Growing up, my artistic skill asserted itself early and it became my "thing." My sister, two years younger, never really tried her hand at the visual arts, and I think it was because she let my apparent talents nudge her out of the arena. She bested me at many other things, and I grew up jealous of her social ease and skill at performance, personal fashion, friend-making and anything that involved extroversion, but in my family I was the "artist." I've often wondered if the same factors were at play here. When someone close to you towers tall, why try to struggle upward in their shadow? When your partner is a master, are you able to flounder as an amateur?

Thinking these things this week, I've vowed to really address the insecurity issue at its core. When I started first working on Ivy, another book came out that was very, very similar to my first draft. That book was Blankets. Blankets came out to so much acclaim, many awards, translations into dozens of other languages, year-end best-of lists. I looked at my script - so similar, and yet my first try, so rough - and all I could do was compare it and see how it fell so short. So in my youth and lack of self-confidence, I shelved the project for a year and felt bad. It stayed in my head as something I had to write, however, and once I ovaried up and dusted it off, I realized that no matter how many times this story has been told (and it's a LOT of times, to be honest), this was still MY story, and I had to tell it MY way. I made a lot of revisions and drove the narrative into a completely different direction than I originally planned, and five years later my book exists as it does - complete and much stronger than its first inception.

I'm going to do a lot of things in life, if I'm lucky enough to have the time to do them. And I'm not so certain that every idea will be a brilliant, original one - in fact, everything on earth has been done before, and probably done better, and earlier, and on a grander scale. That doesn't mean I (and you, and anyone) shouldn't throw in their hand and try it as well. Everyone has a story to tell or a concept to explore, and what makes it unique is that it is YOU who is telling it, drawing it, bringing it into being. To shut yourself down before beginning is the ultimate failure. Not everything will be gorgeous or a work of genius, but it will be an important step for each creator to propel you ahead in your development, to give your work depth and context, to learn something and build skill and experience. Don't be intimidated. Take what you can from others and focus it inward.

2010-07-15T14:47:00.000-07:00

Debajo: Fall

I just completed the art for a 16-page fantasy story written by Sigrid Ellis. You can find her work at slightlyobsessedstudio.com, so go check out her stories! I'll post an update when I have some further information about how to order this comic.

2010-07-05T11:52:00.000-07:00

Ivy at Oni Press

Hey folks. Sorry for the absence of late - I've been busy trying to take care of life stuff; you know, the boring, non-art-related bits and pieces that none of you wants to hear about, and yet fills my days with a thousand tasks and stresses. However, time to share some good news: I signed with Portland's Oni Press to publish Ivy! This shouldn't come as a surprise to most of you - I've been talking with them about it for some time - but now it's official. We're shooting for a spring 2011 release, which means I have to hustle to get the beast in shape and printready (involving mostly relettering some of the more egregious first chapters and cleaning up an inconsistency or two), but it'll be on the shelves, in hardcover, and hopefully in your hands before too long.

I've had a few other projects in the works and I'll most likely get a chance to update this blog regarding those projects in the next week or so, but it's deadline time for ol' Sarah O right now, and I must run. Thanks again to everyone who's wished me well and encouraged me on this long, long slog toward completion. It's about to pay off.

2010-06-11T15:44:00.000-07:00

I'm nominated!

I received a nomination for the Russ Manning Promising Newcomer Award. It makes me really regret missing Comic-Con this year, but hopefully I'll have a chance to go in years ahead. The other nominees look strong, but I've got my fingers crossed, so here's hopin'!

2010-05-14T10:14:00.000-07:00

Busy times.

It's been weeks since Stumptown wrapped up, and yet I haven't found myself a minute to sit down and write a proper wrapup. It was a great event this year - got to see some friends, make some contacts, and sell a whole bunch of comics and prints. We as a studio got to do a Tranquility Base inking demo for one of the workshops. Sometimes when I work a table all weekend, talking to so many various people about comics and the craft thereof, and then get to retire with 20 or so of my closest friends for dinner and an afterparty, I think, "This is it. You made it, girl." And so it seems! I'm doing what I always wanted to do, but never really imagined I could: be a pro cartoonist.

The highlight of the weekend for me came on Friday night, when Geoff and I rushed out to Guapo Comics to the pre-party, only to learn the moment we walked in the door that I had won the Maisie Kukoc Award. This is a peer-voted award for minicomics, and it was an amazing honor I had not expected, based on the skills and general excellence of the competition (Damien Jay, Porcellino, etc). I thank every one of my readers, friends and peers who voted.

After the show wrapped up, I had a lot of personal issues to take care of, not the least of which was the matter of being laid off from my day job of the last 7 years. Believe me, I was shittin' bricks when I first heard the news. Still, I gathered up all my barely-remembered college learnin' about professionalism and set forth to MAKE IT IN THE BIZ. Now I find myself negotiating a number of projects, the first of which is illustrating a short comics story for Sigrid Ellis, a wonderful woman and comics writer whom I met at Emerald City. It's a fun fantasy tale where I can try out my chops at something other than straight-up reality, which will come in handy when I finally start out on my Next Big Project (tbd). Also, Dean Haspiel invited me to participate in the Act-I-Vate website, where cartoonists get to serialize their new projects in a roundup of talent, updated daily. Once I get a handle on the workload coming up, AND a nice concept to start diving into, I'll be going this route - so keep an eye out!

2010-04-19T14:10:00.000-07:00

Comics at the Crossroads

I recently received an email inviting me to take part in a group exhibition at the Maryhill Museum in Goldendale, WA this fall. Entitled "Comics at the Crossroads: Art of the Graphic Novel," this exhibit will showcase 30 comics artists from the Northwest, and I am honored to be invited to be one of them. The show opens the day before my birthday, and I'm hoping to gather a group of friends to make the two-hour drive out to see the museum that Saturday, September 18. I'll give a full report of the show. If you can make it out there this fall, it certainly is worth the visit. I'll be preparing a special single-page comic spread for this show, so more updates to come!

2010-04-17T18:59:00.000-07:00

Catnip toys!

I will be debuting this new line of irresistable (to your cats) chew toys at the Stumptown Comics Fest next weekend. If you're headed to the show, stop by and say hello!

2010-04-03T21:11:00.000-07:00

Chapter One of Ivy is online for free!

I just reposted the entire first chapter of my graphic novel, Ivy, on my site. Click here to go read it!

2010-03-20T21:13:00.000-07:00

Know Your Chicken

I banged out this piece last night as a last-minute addition to an art show that will be hanging in Mayor Sam Adams' office April through July. As you may see, I chose a subject very near and dear to my heart, and at the urging of my studio-mate BT, chose to try my hand at some hand-lettering. Enjoy!

2010-03-12T13:01:00.000-08:00

See you in Seattle!

I'm heading up to table at the Emerald City Comic Con this weekend. I'll have special-edition sets of the complete Ivy, with slipcase, and I'm co-tabling with my studio-mates Indigo Kelleigh and Les McClaine. If you're in the neighborhood, drop on in and say hello!

2010-02-26T19:16:00.001-08:00

Bear Fight!

This is the first completed illustration I've done in years. It's my submission for BT Livermore's Bear Fight! anthology. He's looking for other submissions, so if you can get it done before March 10th you should submit your fightin' bears. Here's more info.

2010-01-25T13:29:00.001-08:00

Chapter 5 is now available from my store.

What are you waiting for? Go order it and find out how the story ends!

2010-01-08T12:11:00.001-08:00

It's done!

God, it's hard to believe. After SIX years of script-writing, working and re-working layouts, bouts of unbelievable productivity followed by arid stretches of fallow months; thinking I was a genius, thinking I was a failure, believing truly that this was a waste of time that would never see the light of day; slogging forward through harmful procrastination, leaping onward with inspired last-minute changes; it's all over.

I wrapped up the last page of Ivy last night at the studio. We had an open house for a drink 'n draw, and I got to celebrate with my friends at the moment it was completed. I'd finished the inks the night before, and at the moment I realized that the figure I'd just inked was the VERY LAST TIME I'd draw Ivy in this book, and all I had left were a few brushstrokes to bring the background together - I choked up a little. It was an emotional moment to put something this large, that had taken me THIS long, to bed.

I'm happy with this. I'm hoping that you will be too. The ending occurred to me in a series of late-night, falling-asleep contemplations, and while it's sad, it's the right ending. Undertaking a project like this was like a self-directed graduate program: every step I took throughout this process was a lesson. I've refined the way I write comics; I've stepped up my drafting skillz, smoothed out my layouts, took chances on difficult scenes. What a relief to realize that I can move on from this beast and bring everything I've discovered to the next project. Can I get a WOOOOOOOOOOO!!!?

2009-12-30T18:28:00.000-08:00

Hello!

I'm not dead; I'm not missing.

Ivy will be finished shortly. Like, in a week. I've been bustin' ass.

I just returned from holidays on the East Coast, where I got to both visit with family and friends and contract a gut-destroying 48-hour bug, which was almost awe-inspiring at moments in its intensity. However, I returned mere minutes before the yearly Few Inches of Snow that Shuts Down Portland Storm began, and have enjoyed a day to recuperate at home in my warm house, eating comfort food, reading Martin Amis' The Information, and playing video games with abandon. Tomorrow: picking up the brush with renewed fervor.

I bought white lilies and arranged them in the kitchen as a celebration of 2009's impending death.

Happy New Year, everybody!

2009-11-14T22:04:00.000-08:00

Peggy Olsen

from the season 2 episode "Six Month Leave"

2009-10-26T21:48:00.000-07:00

Day Six: drawing in Dolores Park

2009-10-26T21:44:00.000-07:00

Day five: Hairy hand on the airplane

A day late, but I was busy dawn till dusk yesterday.

2009-10-24T19:30:00.000-07:00

Day Four: Planning my Halloween costume (Caprica Six's red dress).

2009-10-23T19:44:00.001-07:00

Day three: Hens

2009-10-22T21:27:00.000-07:00

Daily sketch day two: Two heads

2009-10-21T23:14:00.001-07:00

Daily sketches!

Big news! I'm challenging myself to a daily sketch upload. One a day for a month. I'll be missing certain scheduled days due to travel, but other than that I'm going to really hold myself to this and try out some new things.

I treated myself to some new tools - a Pentel Pocket Brush, a new Pigma marker and a trio of portable moleskines. Getting new tools is like eating a gourmet meal you didn't prepare, when you're incredibly hungry. Better, even. I'm really excited! I've been sort of stampeding through the last pages of Ivy, trying to bust it out using the momentum of being THISCLOSE to the end, and it's nice to divert a little of that flow into opening new artistic channels. So here is the first, bon appetit!

Joan Holloway, from the Mad Men episode "Three Sundays." (Click for larger.)

2009-09-14T10:39:00.000-07:00

As seen from space

(click to see)

I saw this image on Street Carnage this morning (it's been floating around the web, I imagine), and it blew my mind.

I'm always looking for a metaphor to put my problems into perspective. Reminding myself of the tiny bacteria I am, floating on the surface of the giant organism Earth, does the trick nicely.

2009-09-07T22:02:00.000-07:00

No APE, no SPX.

I hadn't planned on going to SPX at all - the flight plus hotel room would've cleaned me out, and considering the poor sales at the one year I did attend I wouldn't be so optimistic as to imagine I'd recoup my losses - but I did send in my registration for APE. And of course it was too late, and I got put on the wait list. Now, I'm pretty certain a fair amount of "listers" actually get tables when there's more than a month in advance, but honestly, I'm not going to take that chance this year. The situation I find myself in now is that I must buy out my ex from his half of the house, and the banks aren't giving money away anymore (not like the glory days of '07), so I can't take that equity out from the property itself - so I have to decimate my savings account. Yep. My Girl Scouts money, the money I'd planned on making when I sell Ivy - poof! Gone before I even earned it. I'm trying to spin this in a positive direction - at least now I know the amount I owe, and things have been legally resolved (or are at least on their way), and I'm finally able to put a lot of resentment and entanglement behind me. But I have three years to scrape together what is very close to a full years' pre-tax salary for me, so any fanciful dreams I've harbored of finally taking a trip to France, or using my Ivy advance to work on the house, or really just about anything, has to be shelved.

So, all my "See you at APE!" comments need to be retracted. I'm sad to miss out on the parties and seeing estranged friends and colleagues, but at least I'm chugging along at full speed here at the homefront, where drawing comics is always free. I have several smaller (and adults-only) projects in the works, but the most exciting thing is seeing the final chapter of my book come to a close after six long years. Pieces are falling into place. It's nice, finally, to have my feet under me again.

2009-09-03T09:24:00.000-07:00

It's a no!

Okay, no serializing the last chapter. I'll let you all be surprised. At least I know how good it's looking, heh heh! I'll just TELL you about it instead of SHOWING you. Remember, the 4th chapter is available in my store.

2009-09-02T12:44:00.000-07:00

Spoilers ahead!

I've been keeping busy lately, with guests, travel, and domestic issues. First and foremost on that list, however, is my book. Yes, after six years, it looks like Ivy is in her final throes. I'm not even sure how I'll feel once it's finished - or how long it will take to dawn on me that it's done, once it is. I'm excited of course to put such a large project to bed, moving on to other things. With each passing day I seem to come across another graphic novel about high school and that period of time in peoples' lives, and while I don't regret telling the story I am, I do see that it is something often done as a first step. I just have to remind myself that I'm telling it MY way and it stands on its own.

So - I have to ask - how would you, my eight or so readers, feel if I started serializing the last chapter page by page on this blog? Have you read this far? Are you dying to know how it ends? I'm already a good dozen pages in, so I have weekly updates for at least the rest of the fall.

Here's the first page. Let me know what you think. I'll keep it under wraps if it'll spoil the surprises for you.

2009-07-22T22:44:00.001-07:00

An interview.

Andrew from Drink This Cola was nice enough to interview me and publish the results on his blog. Check it out!

Nine pages of chapter 5 in the can. Tenth started.

2009-07-17T11:07:00.000-07:00

Tranquility Base.

I've moved into the new shared studio in the Goldsmith Building downtown (5th and Couch, right above Floating World), and it's awesome.

Here's my workspace. I've been getting so much work done here.

It's an easy commute downtown, and I've been going almost every day, for a FULL SHIFT of drawing. I feel great, both emotionally and physically - the bike ride helps, the company at the studio helps, the feeling of making progress on my book helps. It's so awesome!

My new studio mates are Indigo Kelleigh, Jon Siruno, Les Mcclaine, BT Livermore, and Shannon McClure. We're still moving people in and getting settled - we need a couch! - but it's already a clean, bright, inviting working space. In the slightly-more-than-a-week I've been there, I've started and COMPLETED three pages of Ivy, and gotten FOUR MORE within a panel or two of completion. I will finish this book by the fall - for real this time!

Also, I've been getting a lot of very positive messages from people, via emails and anecdotes and messages coming out of the woodwork, about my comics and how they affect those who are reading them. I have to say a monster THANK YOU to everyone who's enjoyed my work, whether or not you've let me know, because it reminds me that that is the real reason why I initially started this book and every other shorter project I've ever done. I'm extremely grateful to be well-received, but the real importance for me is to bring connection and understanding to others through my funnybook narratives. So, again, thanks. I won't disappoint!

2009-07-12T12:31:00.000-07:00

Show at the Albina Press.

I have some prints hanging at the Albina Press in North Portland through July. There is also some excellent work from Ben Voldman, Jason Overby and Stacie Furniss, so if you're in the neighborhood stop in and check it out!

2009-05-30T20:34:00.000-07:00

Birds in the Beehive.

My friend Ben invited me to join him and another artist for a group show at the Albina Press, aka my FAVORITE COFFEE SHOP, in July! Whoo hooo! Of course, as soon as the elation wore off my first thought was, "I'd better get busy making some new prints!" So here's the first one. Two simple colors, an elegant lady, and her multitudinous chirpy pals. Having spent the last year in closer proximity to birds than I ever have before, of course, there's a part of me that recoils from the thought of birds nesting in hair - cause birds aren't birds without their turds.

More, as always, to come.

2009-05-19T14:21:00.000-07:00

Endeavors.

After working so hard on the last chapter, I took a few weeks to take stock of the house and its grounds. So many projects to finish or start. I got some chicks!

Pip

Puff

I've been doing some light landscaping, spurred by a visit from my dad and his wife, which ended in a trip to the Portland Nursery. I now have a full shade garden out back and a new daphne bush out front, which will blossom in January and scent up the front yard.

I've started the first pencils on the new chapter, but the usual comedown has made it hard to dive back in - so while I still have momentum, and need a necessary short break from Ivy and her adventures, I've decided to start a new larger-scale art project. I'm not sure how long I'll be renting the downtown studio space, because while there is ample room in the shared area, my studio-mates like to keep it a lot more messy and chaotic than I can handle - so while I'm still there at least, I decided to break out the oversize paper and try something I haven't done since art school: large ink drawings. Stay posted on this; I've just started the visual research, and some interesting sketchbook stuff shall follow.

2009-04-22T07:31:00.001-07:00

Travel sketches.

I just got back from the Stumptown Comics Fest, and boy am I completely, utterly exhausted. I had a great time at the Fest, and while I'd love to go over the finer points here, I'm rushing to complete some grays before driving up to Linnton and getting myself a pair of day-old chicks for this year's spring entertainment. I'd rather leave you with some scans from my travel sketchbook.

I went to Brooklyn, Philadelphia, and back to Manhattan from April 8-16th, visiting friends and seeing comedy shows and meeting people for the first time. I had a blast, and the distance from my problems at home was a much needed tonic for my state of mind. I came home with a renewed desire for sober livin' (not to mention a rollicking head cold) and a couple pages of portraits of friends and sketches from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Sarah and Julia eating breakfast at their laptops at a Williamsburg cafe

Jerome, after taking some AWESOME portraits of yours truly!

Cheese riding a unicorn

Random cool anthropomorphic things at the Met

Armor and horse armor at the Met

2009-04-06T11:16:00.000-07:00

Stumptown and Powell's updates!

It's been a tough couple of months over here at Casa Grindstone. I spent most of February and the first week or two of March pounding away at the Girl Scouts job, managing to churn everything out just slightly past deadline - not even a week - and I'm very happy with the results. So were they, thank god. It was a real gauntlet and I was happy to get through it.

I intended to take a small vacation to clear my head for a few days between wrapping up the GS job and diving headlong into chapter 4 of Ivy - just a few days out of town, spending time in good company - and things didn't go quite as I planned. I returned home to an angry ex and a bunch of sticky, problematic issues regarding the house and splitting up our shared property. I wish I could have kept my blithe naivete as long as possible regarding my optimism about this breakup - that it could be not-unpleasant, or smooth, or at least not more hurtful and unhappy than it absolutely had to be. Sadly, like all divorces this one has grown ugly, and dealing with not just the pain of the breakup itself but a hurt and vengeful ex has made an already tough situation pretty fucking crappy.

I had three weeks to draw my chapter. I was perhaps ten pages into it when I finished the GS job, and I needed to get it all completed by April 7th (tomorrow), because I am leaving for NYC on the 8th and not returning until the 16th, two days before the Stumptown Comics Fest. If I was to have it printed up by the Fest, it would need to be at the printer's by the 7th. And try as I might, producing 29 pages in 21 days was just beyond my powers.

Oh, I tried. In the last week alone I busted out 15 pages. But two days before I hop on a plane, there are still 9 half-inked pages and three yet to even start. So I'm cutting my losses and preparing a preview mini for Stumptown, and once at the Fest I'll have a pre-order option for people to pay now and have the mini sent to them a week later once it's ready. They will also be available at my reading at Powell's on the 27th, where I'll be showing much of this new chapter, along with my friends Derek Kirk Kim and Jesse Reklaw who are also reading from their new works. Come on by if you'll be in town! I'm excited and terrified!

Mostly however, I'm just glad that not making this self-imposed deadline isn't getting me down. I've been working very, very hard at this chapter and it's well on its way. Last night at one in the morning I noticed my line quality going down and I thought, "Is it worth it to get this in under the gun when you're getting sloppy? You can't sacrifice quality for fast turnaround." So you WILL get your new chapter, it WILL be a week late, and that... is... okay. Getting shingles from stress was an enormous wake-up call for me about the way I live my life - nothing is so important that it's worth getting sick over. So I'm off to NYC and Philadelphia, see you at the Fest on the 18th, and stop by and pick up your preview mini - for free!

2009-02-17T10:15:00.000-08:00

The Shingle Life.

All systems go, full steam ahead - I was chugging merrily along until about a week and a half ago, when I woke myself up by scratching an unnaturally painful cluster of red bumps on my left rib. Two days later I was barely able to stand, and managed to drag myself to the hospital, where I found out I have shingles. Cue a week of extreme pain, couch sleeping, and, well - not much else.

According to the internet, shingles appears in people with lowered immune systems or who are under "psychological stress." Guess that ropes me in. I gave myself some slack this week as far as deadlines (or worrying) goes, but now that the second week of this malady has begun, I can't push back the work pile any farther. There are only four pages left for me to pencil and ink (for some reason the coloring is easy going these days, so of course I tend to hit that first before any of the "harder" steps to this project). And yet when I look at the drafting table with those big white sheets sitting there accusing me of sloth (yes! this is how I think, despite my illness), it drives me away, back into the mind-mire I lived in for the last half year or so. No go.

In addition to that, I've turned into a horrible person. Coinciding with the ridiculous fake "holiday" we love to hate, but so so SO many people still acknowledge, a disproportionately large number of my friends are gloriously happy in brand new relationships, or newly pregnant and obsessed with grainy ultrasounds, or flashing brand new diamond rings. Timing sucks. I am a bitter curmudgeon about these things at the moment, faced with the prospect of continued living with my recent ex for an indeterminate amount of time, due to inescapable financial problems. Facing down the corpse of my failed relationship every single day for the next, god? few months? longer? while unable to pursue any other romantic avenues, and recovering from an incredibly painful physical attack BROUGHT ON by more stress - well, I have to be responsible for myself here, I suppose, and remove myself from most of the avenues where I am confronted with "Look what my new girlfriend gave me!" and "We're 18 weeks along!!!!!" So I will be ducking out of most of the internet for a while, and perhaps select real-life events, because until I get my shit together personally, I'll be a nasty bit of company for a while and no one needs that.

On the other hand, if you've recently been dumped, or fucked over, or just shat on a little by God, please feel free to contact me.

2009-02-12T13:14:00.000-08:00

I Saw You: Missed Connections Comics is out!

I have a single-page comic in this heavily-staffed anthology. I haven't received my copy in the mail yet, so I haven't gotten a chance to pore through it yet, but I've seen some samples online (specifically Ken Dahl's and Laura Park's) and they are faaaabulous. Go grab a copy right now!

2009-01-28T11:06:00.000-08:00

The Grind no longer wears me down.

Happy news, all. I haven't been blogging very much this month, but the reason for that has changed. Instead of being too depressed to write about my sorry life, I'm actually doing quite well - I'm just too busy DRAWING COMICS to sit and bang out blog posts! Whoo hoo!

I'm about halfway through what I would consider a "grueling" schedule for an intensive and lucrative comics job for the Girl Scouts of America. I've been working on this for the last few months, but they've got me on a week-to-week schedule of work due, and this is the closest I've ever come to working full time on art projects (not counting the crunch time right before a show when I'm trying to wrap up a chapter). So far I've been (barely) keeping up with it, but I start coloring next week, and that'll be a fun little experiment. I am predicting I'll learn some tricks by the time this is over that'll help with streamlining the way I work.

So, in the interest of sharing things I've been pondering that have helped me out in the short AND long term, let me just say this: I've come to see recently that one of the biggest stumbling blocks in my life, in many arenas, is my unwillingness to try and fail. Or try and not super-succeed. Basically, if I don't think I can do something perfectly, I'm not willing to attempt it. And that, my friends, is the quickest way to stagnate, and not learn, and not improve. Last week I went to my friends Jesse and Andrice's to have a comics jam and then rock out in the basement on a variety of instruments, and I realized that that may have been the first time I've ever let myself just improvise with others in a casual setting. Not even as a teenager, when my friends and I all sucked at everything together, would I let myself play the wrong notes and mess up the beats. I just couldn't "sound like a fool." And wow, what a hang-up, man.

Doing the 24-Hour Comic opened my eyes to this self-inhibiting tendency. I wasn't able to cast off the restraints that day and just let things fall where they may, but I'm starting to now. Let's hope some new horizons appear this way. In the meantime, I've been training my chickens, and filming the results. Hilarious!

2008-12-31T14:58:00.001-08:00

It's a month late, but...

I got interviewed on the Daily Crosshatch. Check it out if you want a quick understanding of the breakdown of my creative processes.

2008-12-31T14:36:00.001-08:00

Interviewed on the Erika Moen Show!

In an attempt to catch up on the last few months' worth of semi-sort-of art-related happenings in my life, here is the archived video of last night's live podcast on which I was the guest. The host is the lovely Erika Moen, a fabulously talented cartoonist in her own right, who produces a weekly webcomic called DAR - go read them right now if you aren't familiar!

So if you have an hour to kill and can handle the chattiness, rapidfire speech and some references to Abe Lincoln, do I have a video for you!

Free TV Show from Ustream

(direct link if above video doesn't work)

2008-10-15T12:45:00.000-07:00

Close calls, death and the dark side of magic realism.

I'm not a religious person. I'm also not a scientific thinker. I am perfectly accepting of the thought that there are forces in the world acting beyond and despite our ignorance of their nature. I don't need to know what they are, but I do understand that by not understanding their patterns, I am leaving myself open for mistakes and upheavals in my life. Based on this felt-but-not-quantified belief that there is meaning in things, that events happen due to my choices and that if I am able to pay attention, I will be able to avoid hardship and gain success, I have made my way through life with a fairly good sense of my own morals and direction.

This "magic realist" way of seeing signs and patterns in the world works very well when things are working in my favor. When I make a choice based on observation and it turns out successfully, I feel relieved that I was able to read the cards properly and play them well. But when things start to go wrong, there is no way for me to take a step back and deal with the consequences without feeling ultimately responsible for their downturn. What did I do or not do to make this happen? This question is the centerpiece in the enormous bouquet of anxiety and judgment I turn over and over in my head all day long. Did I deserve this? Did I make this happen somehow? What can I do to make this stop?

The worst is when things happen in sequence. Human minds are trained to seek patterns. When something repeats itself I find it nearly impossible to refrain from assigning blame. It's much harder to throw your hands up and let go of analysis and judgment, taking a "things just happen" stance on the matter, when things repeat. I have been trying so hard to stop blaming myself for the random things that destroy a day, but I'm still unable to let them go.

A week ago I had the closest call on my bike that I've had in years. I had been hanging out at my friends Julia and Brody's apartment with our friend Tim, and I had just said my goodbyes and started riding home. It was dark, but I had my lights on as well as a light-colored helmet and coat. Not two blocks from their building, a car approaching me from the opposite direction decided to make a fast, unsignaled left turn onto a side street right as I was crossing. The hood of the car screeched to a stop about two and a half feet from my body. The driver rolled the window down and apologized, telling me to take breaths, telling me he was a cyclist, telling me he just didn't see me. If he had hit me, it would have been an accident. Just an accident. But I could have been catastrophically injured or killed based on this one man's negligence at that one moment - my life ended immediately due to a single moment's lapse of attention. It made me fully aware of how easily we die.

I've been thinking about death a lot lately, actually. How quickly it will come upon us. How at any moment we could get a phone call and someone has bad news on the other line. It could be anyone. How many years has it been since I received one of those calls? It's perhaps overdue.

I was terrified enough from that incident to stay off my bike after dark for a few days. So yesterday, in the clearest, sunniest afternoon we're likely to have for months, I was riding through the sidestreets of SE towards Hawthorne, soaking up the incredible colors of autumn and trying to really appreciate the scents and sounds of the day. I actually realized at the moment how important it was for me to be aware that I was, at that moment, happy and grateful to be alive and doing exactly what I was doing.

I came to a stop at a T-shaped intersection - I was on 31st or 32nd, and the major street was Stark. Traffic was a little heavy so I waited until I saw an opening on the left. I moved out into the middle of the left lane to see around some parked cars to the right, and was surprised by another fresh line of cars approaching from the right. Apparently I startled the first driver in line, a woman who saw me nose out into the street in the crosswalk, and she hit her brakes while waving me past her. I had just pulled out and was making a right turn when the two cars behind her got into a rear-end collision.

The woman drove away, and I pulled over to see if anyone was hurt. The two drivers got out and I called to them to see if they needed me to call an ambulance or 911. The driver in the foremost car (the one who got rear-ended) motioned me over, saying he needed me (as a witness I thought). I approached the two men and the one who called me over told me he was a cop. He said to me, "You know why I need you here? Because you caused this accident. You caused it when you blew through that stop sign and rode into the street."

I was so shocked that I was immediately put on the defensive. I started explaining what had really happened while he stood there shaking his head. He told me I could not leave until I gave him my ID. Meanwhile the man who actually hit him was standing behind him, clapping him on the shoulder and looking at me saying "You better do what he says, he's an officer." It is this next point that I cannot stop thinking about over and over in my head. My mind won't let this go. It tells me, "You should have left. You should have ran away. You should have refused to show ID. You should have, you should have." But I didn't. I cowed. I was afraid that if I tried to ride off, I would be tackled from behind and dragged off my bike, the way I was the last time I was arrested. I gave that piece of shit, lying cop my ID. And now my blood runs cold when I think about the possibilities of what could happen, all the worst-case scenarios of court appearances, fines, being sued for liability. All based on this cop's immediate assumption that I had flown through a stop sign and into the street. His immediate accusation did its job perfectly: put me in a state of defensive insecurity instead of looking at the facts of the situation: that I was neither the woman who stopped right in front of him nor the man who actually hit him. If the woman had continued on her way without stopping, she wouldn'tve come close to hitting me. I had entered the roadway slowly to see around parked cars, and if I couldn't see the line of approaching traffic there was no way the cop could have seen me.

I rode off and found a side street, parked my bike, sat on the curb and cried. It was a moment of deja-vu, since only a week ago I had done the same thing after seeing the front grille of a car aimed right at me. I ended up walking my bike ten blocks to the bus and taking my bike home that way, since I was too rattled to ride. And now, stupid as it may seem, I am terrified to get back on it and go out. The part of me that loves to feel connected to the hidden patterns of the world feels now that there is something out there waiting to get me, waiting for me to leave the house and place myself in its path. In both these cases I was not at fault - just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm actually glad that lying, shithead cop got his SUV crashed up a little. But things tend to come in threes and I've been lucky so far that I've avoided injury, but how long does luck last? If there is a message, am I stupid to ignore it? Why can't I stop beating myself up over giving that fucking pig my ID? I can't change it now. There's nothing I can do. If only it were possible to believe that I was not ultimately responsible for these bad events.

2008-09-26T14:17:00.000-07:00

The wheels have stopped.

I know things run in cycles. I know sometimes your drive and desire to work disappear. It's demoralizing and sucks away your energy and your ability to enjoy other pursuits. And after weeks of not being able to work, things turn around again and all of a sudden you're at the drawing table, cranking out beauty like no one's business. But what if that stage never kicks back in? What if your cycle runs more like four days on, three months off?

Please indulge me this for a moment. (I'm disabling comments for this entry because I know my friends would send me well-wishes and words of encouragement, and I just want to wallow today.)

Every morning I get up and sit at my computer, drinking coffee and looking guiltily at my drawing table, where my fucking NEVERENDING WORK IN PROGRESS sits, abandoned. I've sat at the table, looking over the pile of half-finished pages that never changes, wanting to pick up my brush and have at it. And yet that moment doesn't arrive. I've filled the water glass, sharpened the pencils, bought enticing fresh brushes. And there I sit. I flip through the thumbnails, and nothing. I see some pages with only one small background to fill in. I cannot. Four pages completed months ago sit in my "to grayscale" box, and I do not fire up the tablet and get going. It's as though all of my love and determination to complete this book have leaked out of a tiny hole in my heart over the last year, leaving me surprisingly empty and without even the self-discipline to sit and power through. And I hate myself for this. I question whether I can still call myself a cartoonist when I am no longer able to perform the task that defines me as such. If this were just a short or even not-so-short setback, I could see beyond it and look forward to the turning of the cycle again, to the future when the art flows and the progress is visible. But this seems now to be the normal state of things. It's kicking my ass. I can't see the end. I am overwhelmed.

This is the largest reason why I can't face going to any more comics shows. I see my friends post their projects online - daily comics, jam comics, beautiful watercolors, journal sketches. Every single one has told me they go through periods of blockage, or disinspiration. And yet there is still something coming out of them, some art-force that leaks out from one direction or another, creating despite the circumstances. I can't take pleasure or strength from it. I can't look at the big picture anymore. My sketchbooks sit empty, my tools wait in their perfect store-bought condition. I regret starting anything because the onus of never finishing is a heavy and painful reminder of my failure. I can almost feel the minutes ticking away as I waste my days doing nothing. This is time I cannot get back - I'm pulling over now, to the shoulder, and letting you all pass by and disappear around the bend. I need to hibernate to escape my utter and profound disappointment in myself.

***DISCLAIMER. I feel SO much better after wallowing for an afternoon and letting it all sink in, then drain away. I don't have the innate nature to give up; I just need to let myself THINK I am every now and then. Let's hope things go better overall, but wow, I really needed to get that out of me. Later!

2008-09-12T13:36:00.000-07:00

Back in the saddle.

Finally things are smoothing out and getting more promising. I've resumed work on the fourth chapter, and today I pulled the Progress Whiteboard out and filled in all the X's that show how far I am. I had eleven X's to mark! Eight new pages started and a couple completed. I am so ready for this book to be done, and there is no way out but through, so putting my horns down and plowing ahead is the only way this thing will ever be complete. I'm trying to channel my inner Alec Longstreth and divide my days up a little more clearly into workable chunks, while not forgetting the ultimate goal of getting pleasure out of doing this tedious and often unrewarding work. The most pleasure comes at the end, but the end only comes after the painful and difficult journey, and I just have to keep slogging toward the horizon.

HOWEVER. I've been known to completely throw myself into utter fandom every now and then and totally wrap myself up in a show, book or other character-driven media. And this season of Project Runway has captured me in no uncertain terms. And guess what? Hometown girl Leanne Marshall is SO TOTALLY GONNA WIN!! I can't wait until the season finale when I'm out with all the luckless friends I can wrangle, cheering drunkenly and spilling into the street, setting piles of Buffalo Exchange cast-offs on fire and flipping cars. I've been hitting the Tanker on Hawthorne and 48th to watch the show live, which is a little weird to go to a bar by myself, but I'm not alone in my fanaticism. Last week I got there a little early, and to pass the time I sat and tried to draw each remaining contestant from memory, which is a lot harder than it seems.

God I hate Kenley, but there's a good chance she'll stick around for a while.

I saw photographs of the final collections of the last 6 designers at Bryant Park on the internets today, and I swear to God, I actually GASPED ALOUD when I looked at Leanne's pieces. They are breathtaking. Korto's were also gorgeous but they just didn't come close. The rest were fucking jokes. Leanne busted out this extremely restrained spring palette of cream, tan and the most beautiful aqua, fully showcasing her crazy folded-fabric origami skills. The girl is going places, and if you don't believe me just take a look for yourself.

2008-09-03T14:15:00.000-07:00

ugh...

What do you do when you learn that someone you love and care about is having an extremely difficult time, and you want them to know you're thinking of them, but they don't wish to have any contact with you?

...I guess you just post it on your blog and hope the message reaches its destination.

2008-09-02T13:03:00.000-07:00

Project Runway and PDX pride.

First of all, let me just say that I have the best friends in the world, and thank you to everyone who sent well wishes and support my way this summer. I wish things had gone a little more smoothly, but there's no going back in life, and all I can do is to try and jump back into the swing of things as soon as I can and continue on. But I have the most caring and awesome group of people on my side and I want you all to know how grateful I am to have you.

As far as comics updates go, I don't have much to say except that Myspace Dark Horse Presents had my "Previously Possessed" story up for the month of August, and that I'm eagerly looking forward to the release next month of the new Best American Comics volume containing my "Graveyard" story originally published in Papercutter. I do not have plans to attend this year's SPX or APE shows, so I guess I'll just catch you when I catch you. But I'll continue to plug away at Ivy and one of these days finish 'er off.

Now I want to get into something frivolous and fun: how much I love Project Runway and how much I'm rooting for Leanne Marshall, a Portland girl, to make it to Bryant Park this spring. I've never really been one to root for teams, but there's something about this show and the whole concept of a clothing-design elimination series that brings out the fan in me. Most of these types of shows are crap, but Project Runway differs from most in that it actually has extremely talented people with very definite aesthetics working under ridiculous conditions to make objects of beauty. And little Leanimal has been rocketing up the charts this season, making me blush with hometown pride.

I hear tales of a bar in Southeast that has a public showing of PR on Wednesdays, and I might have to be there for it this week. Some of the clothes and innovation are mind-blowing.

2008-07-26T12:32:00.000-07:00

Medication.

In the few days before the Stumptown Comics Fest, I had a serious deadline to meet: finishing up my third chapter of Ivy before the festival commenced, allowing enough time for it to go to the printer's before arriving on my table. In order to complete the 15 or so pages in the last 8 day stretch before the show, I borrowed some Adderall from a friend and used it very sparingly in order to keep myself focused on task and get the work done. And it worked! I took half a pill in the morning and by noon I'd done more than I usually get done in a day. Speed is awesome for productivity.

So I was honest about this with my shrink, and she suggested that I see a medication-specialized NP to discuss the option of perhaps going on some controlled form of Adderall. I've been all over the place lately, dealing with so many different and difficult things, that I haven't found the space within myself and my mind to sit down and get lost in my work, or even keep at it for more than half an hour at a time. So I made an appointment with the NP and came clean about everything going on with me.

An hour and a half later I left with a prescription for Wellbutrin. I had to pull my bike over on the way home and cry on the side of the road. I was dealing with personal stigmas against anti-depressants, feeling like a failure somehow for being the "type" of person who needs them, even though most people I know have taken them with more or less success. Also, Adderall seemed like my last chance for maintaining any sort of momentum in my work life, and now it was deemed inappropriate for my problems. I spent the day mulling over my prejudices against anti-D's and wondering how much easier life would be if I just popped a pill and adjusted accordingly. I might not ever get my graphic novel finished, but maybe I just wouldn't care so much.

So I did some research and went to Walgreens the next day. I started taking the pills and immediately felt drugged. It wasn't too extreme, but I really felt altered, in a detached from my body sort of way. I was lightheaded and felt almost motion sick for the first 48 hours or so. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but I was hoping it would fade out once I acclimated to this new substance in me. I found my desire to smoke weed disappear. And I started working on projects, and for once getting them done. Two days ago I sat and worked on coloring an illustration for the better part of seven hours, until its completion. Things were looking up; this wasn't so bad after all.

Then this morning I woke up with a swelling in my lip. I've never had anything like this happen before, and of course I attributed it to an allergic reaction to the Wellbutrin. I called the NP and she said it was highly unusual to have facial swellings as a reaction to this drug, but to discontinue it immediately. So as quickly as I went on it, I'm off.

There's no way for me to tell if my swelling is an allergic reaction to this stuff except to take more and see, and I'm not willing to try something like that, since having my face even mildly swollen was terrifying to me. But now I have no idea what comes next. I'd only just gotten used to the idea of taking this medication, even starting to look forward to the help it would give me in establishing a better daily routine, and now I'm just sort of left hanging. I feel more upset than before I started it. This particular med was supposed to have the lowest rate of side effects, so if I start something else will it fuck me up even more? Am I unmedicatable? Was the swollen lip a poorly timed coincidence and I'll never know? I'm lost.

2008-07-18T11:31:00.000-07:00

A Quick Update.

Thanks to all of you who sent nice thought my way after the last post... all I can say is that things are much better, if no less busy, and that I'm starting to make some strides toward wrapping up some of these long-term projects that appear to be without end. I finished my short story for Dark Horse Presents, so look for that on their Myspace page in August or September (sorry, I forget which!). I'll start posting more regularly, hopefully with some pictures to pretty it up. But again, thanks for letting me know y'alls are out there, and I promise I won't maudlin out anymore in a public forum. ;)

PS, here's a very nice review of Ivy from Sarah Morean at the Daily Crosshatch!

2008-06-29T13:57:00.000-07:00

If I've lost you, it's okay.

I haven't been posting on here for a while, obviously, and without a doubt this little record of my projects and happenings has been forgotten by all but the most stalwart friends (and those with RSS feeds). Suffice it to say that I'm going through some very difficult things in my personal life right now, and I can't say what's going to happen or where I'm going to end up when this resolves itself. I wish staying busy with work and projects was an option, but trying to draw at the moment is like sandpapering my fingertips, and any pleasure or relief making art might usually bring me is gone. In a way, if this blog goes back to having one reader, myself, that would be a nice circle for its existence to have followed. In any case, I'll resume posting when things get better. And if they don't, well... thank you for reading.

2008-05-26T12:31:00.000-07:00

Hermitdom.

In the weeks since Stumptown I've been under self-imposed lockdown, and excepting a few very warm days I've been spending my life in the studio, attempting to catch up with a few projects before their deadlines are shrieking in my face. What a luxury, to finish ahead of time! Ah yes, well perhaps not in this case, but let's see. Y'all know how I roll.

I finished the art for the first of the Llama Lladies series, and it's a doozy:

I've really never done anything like this, and I hope I can re-create it for the rest of the images I have in mind. Matt's been having an awful lot of trouble getting the screen emulsion to work for him, so I sincerely hope we can get these printed before I leave for Manhattan next Monday night, but if we can't the world might have to wait a little longer to see these. No biggie. I'll still have plenty of things for sale at the MoCCA Festival, including smaller versions of our NerdSkull and Kitten Kavalcade prints. And of course, you can always check to see what I've got available online.

Other than that, I've been spending a lot of time watching our chicks get hen-like. They're old enough to spend the day out in their coop, but not old enough to sleep in the henhouse (the "Huevos Ranchero"). They've quickly outgrown two boxes in the garage and are on their third, so we've gotta fix up their house ASAP and get the heatlamp out there for the last weeks of their chickhood. Our "Silver-Laced Wyandotte" turned out to be a Gold, so two of them look alike, and they spar all the time for dominance in these little gamebird-esque hops and pecks. I watch them every morning with my coffee. Francine, the Brahma, has won my heart (well, she has since they were a day old). She rides around on my forearm and barely makes a peep when I manhandle her.

Bad bird-mommy.

The slugs are already wreaking havoc on the veggies that have popped up, so I'm going to train these birds to be slug ninjas and snail-inators. If only they liked them as much as earthworms.

2008-04-30T12:37:00.000-07:00

Comin' down from Stumptown.

Wow. This weekend was pretty incredible.

More amazing to me, however, than even the crowds at the show, the overload of sudden friends all arriving from out of town, the incredible talent seeping out of every pore, the COMICS pouring into my hands - the biggest surprise for me was that I got the chapter done. Who knew? Up till the day before, it was still up in the air whether I could wrap it up. And apparently, when there's an important deadline, I can.

The price was sleeping through the Saturday Night festivities, but while I'm sure the Comics Art Battle was a blast, I just went to it six months ago and really, really needed the sleep. Saving the party for after the weekend was the best idea, to avoid the particular hell that is Sunday morning at the con trying to keep your arid, burning eyes open and your breakfast down after the paltry two and a half hours of sleep you grabbed on the couch (or floor) after stumbling home from the after-afterparty. I'm not 22 anymore, god bless. But for those of you who are: go get 'em, kids, this time doesn't last forever!

I really haven't processed all that occurred over the weekend. Lots of good publicity came of it; my website was mentioned on the Oregonian art blog, and I was just contacted today by the writer for an interview. Liz Baillie and Jeffrey Chapman dragged me out to the Nixon '08 bench for a ten-minute interview for Indie Spinner Rack (their last question: "Who'd you rather have sex with, a chimp or Hitler?"). We sold a ton of prints, including two to the print goddess herself Tara McPherson (thanks, Tara!), and Scott McCloud cornered me at a drunken moment at the Pony Club afterparty to talk to me about Ivy (thanks, Scott!). And Dark Horse picked me to do an 8-page comic for their Myspace showcase, Dark Horse Presents! Whoa!

I don't even want to let this sink in. I want to ride the adrenaline and pour it into the rest of the book. Let's get this show on the road!

2008-04-14T11:21:00.000-07:00

Back to the Grindstone.

I must be the luckiest girl in the world, because I got shit on by a bird AGAIN, making it the second successful aerial besmirching of my back since February. Let's hope superstition holds up and furthers my fortune; I feel like it already might be helping me. (It's also not like I won't be dealing with bird shit daily soon enough - we're planning to pick up some new baby chicks later on this week.)

Matt's handmade henhouse, the Huevos Ranchero.

I've set next Monday, the 21st, as my goal to complete the next chapter of Ivy to allow for a few days' wiggle room with printing before the big Stumptown weekend. In those seven days I have ten pages to start/complete. This might have seemed more impossible, but yesterday alone I wrapped up two inked pages, got them into the computer, and finished up the greys for them and two more - four complete in one afternoon! Now it's down to the wire and I have to do something I'd never imagine I'd be doing - taking Dave Sim's advice. "One. Page. A. Day." (Plus three.) Let's see.

2008-04-01T11:44:00.000-07:00

Inkstuds Interview!

The very thorough and thoroughly entertaining indie comics podcast Inkstuds has posted a half-hour interview with me. Listen to it here. I was worried I'd come across worse than I did - somehow I managed to keep it positive, which actually isn't all that hard when I'm talking about the great love of my life, comics!

2008-03-26T12:24:00.000-07:00

Natural, unnaturally.

Apparently the only time I can be convinced to actually sit and draw comics is when there is an enormous, scary deadline looming where I might find myself humiliated and/or blacklisted if I don't pull the work out of somewhere in time. Over the last five days I have finished up (completely) seven pages of Ivy, and gotten three out of four of the Nerd Burglar story well on their way (two almost complete). I need to keep this pace up for the rest of this month and the next to have something new to show at Stumptown. Also on my wish list, besides completing the third chapter - which needs to be done a week early so Matt can get it printed - is to do the art and color seps for a new series of small prints which can be sold as a set or individually. I've had the idea in mind for quite some time, and yes, they will be featuring sort-of erotic nudes. And llamas.

So now I've got about a month to start and complete nine pages of Ivy, finish up the other six that remain half-done, do the cover, do the prints, finish this short story, and please oh please NOT TAKE ON ANY MORE WORK before I have a chance to finish the rest o' this stuff. Fortunately people aren't exactly knocking on my door for more projects - I've turned down a few just due to time constraints, though perhaps if any of them were paid I might be convinced to take them on (just sayin'). I'll still have a few original pages displayed up at the Portland Center for Performing Arts until May, go check 'em if you haven't yet (there's plenty of other incredible work up besides mine). And I got my first request by the fabulous Nate Beaty to write a blurb for the back of his upcoming BrainFag Forever book, coming out in August from Microcosm. You know you've hit the big time when other people give a shit what you think!

As far as personal shite goes, I've been occupying myself with daily deals and not looking too deeply within, but one recent change has unexpectedly brought up some issues. I recently made the decision to go back to my natural hair color. No big deal, right? But it's been ten years since I had anything approximating "real" as far as my hair goes (it's sort of a light mousy brown). I went to my stylist and she pieced it out, so it's got stripes of brown and stripes of an almost silvery toffee color - the overall look is close to my roots at first glance, but completely artificial under scrutiny, seeing as I've been bleaching my strands to within an inch of their life for the past year plus. I have no problem with artificial, obviously. But now when I catch my reflection out of the corner of my eye, I see glimpses of someone I'm not exactly comfortable with:

Her.

Little me, at twelve, in seventh grade. Perhaps the most miserable year of my entire life. And the following four years - no better. It wasn't until the summer before senior year that I started living life the way I wanted to - staying out late with friends, having sex, smoking weed, and dyeing my hair. Once I climbed into that funnycar I never looked back. Yet I dug a lot of these old photos out and scanned them in to see how I felt about, literally, returning to my roots - and the old skeletons still aren't settled. I didn't realize how much fake hair affected my self-perception. Bleach blonde? Life of the party. Red? A sexy wise-mouthed vixen. But now? I'm going to have to reclaim this mousiness and turn it out. I'm not Little Me any more, goddamn it. I call out people who shit on me instead of accepting it quietly. I'll hit back. I'll get myself out of harmful situations instead of slogging through. And I'll let my mouth do the speaking for me instead of chemical-process signifiers.

2008-03-23T13:04:00.000-07:00

Finder.

Guess what was waiting for me on the curb, in the rain?

And apparently it works, too! Some sad garage-sale leftover pile was just waiting for me to come along and grab this. I left it at Ryland's (hence the stock photo), but I can't believe someone would just throw this out. I already have one - my original one from when I was eleven, still in its original packaging - but it never hurts to have a backup (until I trade it to Ry for... something). These little tanks just keep on working, despite being technology old enough to legally drink. Can you say that about your 5-year-old Playstation 2?

Also found in the garbage - an antique, hand-carved wooden end table. I pulled it out of a St. Johns dumpster and then had to let two buses pass me by before finding one that had the room to take it. Cleaned off, it looks perfect with the remnants of the hand-carved wooden circular mirror I inherited from my mom, who picked it off the curb of Providence herself back in the 70's. I can't even bring myself to rant about society's waste when I am so often its beneficiary!

Not to mention the last two trips I've taken to the Bins this week with my friend Greg. Holy moley. I've saved some serious time-capsule outfits from the landfill (see my Flickr set of Bins finds to truly get the magnitude of some of these "pieces.") Well, okay, here's a preview:

As Heather so rightly put it, "Old Orchard Beach, here we come!"

All this bad fashion, neon and acid wash must have gone straight to my brain, because I've been revisiting some old photos and books I've left untouched for a few years. I recently picked up the furry-porn series Omaha the Cat Dancer, something I used to be embarrassed to own but could now give a shit. I never read more than the first few issues, but I'm getting deeper into the story and looking at it less as a reader and more as a creator. Sometimes comics that were beloved to me as a teen fail to hold up under today's scrutiny (see Johnny the Homicidal Maniac), but Omaha still rules. I think it might have been the first example of furvert art. Super early-80s styling on all the characters, too!

Now the big question: should I give up on comics altogether and just spend full time mining the Bins and operating an Ebay store of my finds? Your call!

2008-03-18T11:30:00.000-07:00

Small fish, smaller ponds.

I have been struggling these past few months. That much might be obvious to those of you who know me, or an inferred fact due to my lack of posting blogs, progress on my book, or updates to any forums/art sites/etc that I frequent. Part of it is personal problems, some of it is creative blocks and the like. But like any of the millions of bulbs in my neighborhood forcing their way up through the cold, wet ground into the clean, sharp air, I'm starting to emerge from my crisis mode into something more manageable, and hopefully, more productive.

However, when out with my friend Heather yesterday, I saw something that summed up a problem with Portland (and its art scene) that I didn't even realize I had. Something dimly lurking in the back of my mind that had existed for a while but was finally making itself known. A strange feeling that this "West Coast city" in which I had picked to live the rest of my foreseeable future was not a City, per se, but a town. And not a particularly large town at that.

Perhaps that's what I liked about it at first. I remember wanting to go to RISD at seventeen over Parsons or the Art Institute of Boston because Providence was smaller, more manageable, more like the tiny Portland Maine that had raised me and spit me out when I came of age. Fortunately RISD offered me no money, unlike Parsons, which floated half of its insane tuition and allowed me to work part of the rest off for $5.25/hr over the course of four years in its Records Office. Thus, little scared bird lands herself in NYC, the great metropolis - the wilds of urbanity, where she never would have migrated on her own. And it changed me for the better. It was the best decision out of what was offered. Cut ahead to the early 2000s, faced with an even more limitless choice - I had $1500 in the bank and wanted to cut out of New England forever - and saddled only with my cat herd and my zine collection, I picked Portland Oregon and set out. Portland felt like "home." But now I'm wondering.

Cut forward to yesterday, walking along Alberta. Coffee shop A was out of the question, having failed to hire Heather and thus ending on her permanent shit list. Coffee shop B had a wait list. C was closing as we entered. So I chose option D, not my favorite but with empty tables and low music. While waiting at the counter, I checked out the art on the walls. Usually this particular place had a decent display up - perhaps the best I'd seen on Alberta. But this month... EPIC FAIL. I leaned over to Heather and whispered "Worst... art show... ever!" She agreed.

Forty or fifty "pieces" hung on the walls. I use quotes even though "piece" might be the best term to describe the unframed, thumbtacked scraps of randomly-sized paper bits festooned randomly over the tables. Each was a simple pencil drawing of a skull. The same skull. Sometimes there was a little more, a little less, but nothing so skilled or ambitious as a background entered the scene - the most was an occasional figure added to the Skull. It looked like a metalhead's notebook in detention. I wish I was exaggerating. Perhaps most telling of all was the artist's statement, printed out as a banner twice as large than any of the other "works." The lack of craft, senseless repetition and unfinished, lazy, sub-amateur messiness struck me. If THIS guy could get a show, why the fuck was I bothering?

If I put my mind to it, I could rotate my work through a different coffee shop or gallery space every month. I get invited to shows here and there and usually try to put something together for it. This means selecting work that I spent more than five minutes shitting out, going to Michael's and selecting frames, sitting down to mat and frame the work, then laying it out on the wall with some sort of aesthetic idea of the presentation and display. My name is attached to that work. I have no idea who might see it. But if something, good or bad, is coming back to me from the show, I want to be able to stand by it and feel proud of what I've done. Does Skull-sketcher feel the same way? What sort of thought went into this "collection" before vomiting it up on the wall? And why does so much of Portland support "shows" like this?

Ugh. I'm pushing my own elitist buttons by typing this, and I'm sorry if I've lost you. But come the fuck on. If you were there I think you'd be with me. Why push for a 10 when a 2.5 will get you in the door?

2008-02-08T12:06:00.001-08:00

This. Fucking. Sucks.

My computer went down AGAIN. That's right, my new computer. My boss had to come over and install a brand spankin' new version of Windows XP to clean up the enormous diarrhitic mess Vista had become in just three short months, and I lost EVERYTHING. In case you were wondering the specifics, my file browser on Windows Vista would open, then immediately shut down on its own, then decide whether to restart or not (sometimes yes, sometimes no). This prevented me from accessing any files, uploading my work, backing up information, etc. Also, 50% of the time programs would stall out when I tried to start them, and would shit the bed without warning during use. What the hell happened? And what does this mean?

Right now, I have no access to any of the programs on my computer - Photoshop, Illustrator, Dreamweaver, Flash, all the fancy layout and image editing tools my company paid such big bucks for. I had to go online and download Open Office, all my uploaders and downloaders, iTunes, numerous drivers, and everything else free I could find. All these little things you use daily and don't realize how much you rely upon until they're gone.

All my bookmarks and passwords on Firefox are gone. Not life-threatening, I know, but I'd just spent three months replacing and remembering them all.

I can't get my plug-in speakers to work, so no sound, music or video is available to me. This happened last time and I'll be damned if I can remember how I fixed it. This computer is THREE MONTHS OLD, mind you.

I think I can bring this issue out of my own personal kvetch files and chalk it up to the American desire, or should I say habit, of clamoring for the NEWEST, the LATEST, and Corporate America's desire to constantly stuff that maw with untested, unready and unusable NEW NEW NEW versions of everything it produces. Vista is unready for public consumption. I've heard the new Airbook is a rat king of problems. The last Harry Potter book was a complete abortion. Take the time, people! Take the fucking time and do it right!

2008-02-05T09:37:00.000-08:00

Bits 'n Pieces.

When I woke up this morning, I was greeted with a cat puke explosion in my study. The culprit had managed to expel vomit on my office chair, my calendar, my space heater, my bag of bristol board purchased last evening, and the bag of cat food itself, not to mention approximately seven distinct masses on the rug. With four possible suspects, no one can be blamed.

However, while cleaning up I noticed a female flicker in my backyard. I haven't seen one of these since childhood.

I think today might be the day I take down the rotting Tibetan peace flags that came with the house and hang right outside my study window.

Three days ago I started turning the GoLite on my face the moment I awoke, before I got out of bed. I've woken up half an hour earlier each successive day.

Currently I have 14 pages of my new chapter completely inked and in the computer. Eleven more have been started. Fifteen left to start.

I will be headed to Mexico in two weeks to visit the tropical fish.

I have 200 copies of Ivy minicomics sitting in boxes to my right, all of which need to be hand-titled with a silver Sharpie.

There is a severely underused karaoke bar near my house on the trucking wasteland that is NE Columbia, and I need to round up a posse to bring some warm bodies to the place on weeknights. Chances are we'd be the only ones singing - that's how it's been the last two times I went. Plus the KJ is kind of a legend. Takers?

I've been dying to produce some color illustration, but for the life of me I can't pick a subject. They'll be coming, though. Maybe just some color sketchbook dailies?

2008-01-26T17:20:00.000-08:00

Cat show!

All work and no play can drive a creator crazy. You've gotta get out of the house sometime. And what better place to go to on a rainy Saturday afternoon than the Portland International Cat Show?

Yes indeed. It was all I expected and more. For once I got to go to a convention and *not* be the person on the "inside."

The judging stations.

This kitten rocked my socks. What a cutie. I don't remember any breeds or terms. When other people were talking about "lilac points", "seal torbies" and "mackerels", I was cooing into the cages, singing, "Who's a pretty girl?" to unfixed toms.

"Help me!"

So as it turns out, I like cats - even show cats - but I don't much like show cat people. There was a certain element of insider nerdiness and condescension I've never seen in a room full of old ladies and lesbians. However, the awesomeness of the cat culture was definitely the real draw for me, and it certainly did not disappoint.

Take, for example, this plaque left at a table. Now sit there and tell me this isn't incredible.

Or this baffling display left without explanation.

Or the cat-tapestry. (I tried to work in a "catastrophe" pun somewhere in this post, and failed miserably. Sorry to all.)

This was just one of dozens of cat-themed garments I saw wandering around. I wonder what percentage of these breeders' wardrobes have some sort of cat graphic or theme. 60%?

Matt, of course, represented.

And there were plenty for sale as well - as long as you're comfy in an XXXL. Love that trompe-l'oeil overalls pocket!

No matter what kind of day you're having, be glad you aren't the 4th best kitten. At least little Smudge can't read.

In summation: Paws on the Sunny Side of the Street II? Not to be missed!

2008-01-15T12:53:00.000-08:00

The Nature of the Beast.

What makes someone a cartoonist? I mean, more than just drawing comics. What is it about a person that leads them to consider themselves, out of all self-imposed labels - artist, draftsman, painter, storyteller - a cartoonist above all? I've been mulling this concept in my head over the last few days, trying to consider all the comics people I know and see if there is some thread of commonality to their personalities. Behaviors range all over, from hermit to, well, me, as do styles of dress, common levels of inebriation and dancing ability. But what lies under the surface that ties us together? What signifiers in a person's basic makeup drive them down this particular path?

I'll go out on a limb here and start listing traits I see more or less in myself and in the other dedicated comics people I've gotten to know more than superficially. Not everyone falls into these categories, of course, and this is completely generalizing and stereotyping, but here goes.

1.) At some point in life, you are, were, or will be a nerd - or very into something generally considered nerdy.

Comics aren't seen as dorky anymore. Most of the hot new titles coming out actually have a lot of social cachet (at least in my tiny scene). But in our undereducated country right now, even admitting you like to read frequently throws you out of the mainstream. The older you get, the more your weird obsessions and quirks become something admirable and definitive - studying spiders, for instance, might seem a charming and unusual hobby in a 55-year-old but a decisive social career-ender in a 16-year old. Comics themselves have now passed out of the basement-dweller's realm as Joe Magazine "wakes up" to the new trends and starts hearing about Persepolis and Ghost World, so they themselves aren't anyone's nerdly ball and chain to drag around. But almost anyone who makes them now has found themselves struggling to explain, at some point in their personal history, why they draw dragons instead of brides, or why they study Luxembourg when they "don't have to", or that they'd rather download a fan-made Star Trek movie instead of hitting the kegger. (Okay, Star Trek will always be dorky. Sorry!)

2.) Extremes of self-concept.

If you've read my blog before, you might have seen hints that I'm feeling very good or very bad about myself and my work at varying times. I have purposefully kept most deeper emotions out of this blog due to the permanence and pervasiveness of the internet. However, when I write "I'm not too happy with the work I'm doing and I want to do better," what I really mean is "I wouldn't even wipe my ass with the unbelievable stinking garbage that came out of my brush today. I should be shot and my body dragged behind a car." And when I say, "Things are going well! (Insert triumph here.)" I mean, "Can you fucking believe how awesome I am? I should be wearing a dress made of sunbeams on the top of Mount Olympus getting cunnilingus from the gods, this splash panel is so amazing. Behold and weep!" Everyone I know teeters between serious extremes of self-loving and self-loathing when it comes to their work. It's always easier to own up to failure than to success, and most people downplay their true feelings about their comics to everyone but their very closest friends. But I can say from experience that I can look at the same work on two separate days and see beauty once and failure the next.

3.) Long cycles of production and inactivity.

Cartoonists panic when they aren't making comics. Lots of them panic even when they are. There seems to be an unspoken agreement to oneself that if one isn't making comics, one cannot fairly call oneself a cartoonist. Deadlines work well to light fires under asses, but not everyone is doing a project for someone else. In my case, the only deadlines I work under to produce Ivy are my own. I'm not working with an editor or publisher or writer; no one is standing over me demanding this many pages by then. If I slip up or come in late, who cares? So occasionally I find myself almost completely unable to sit and work, and the meager scratchings I do manage to produce are so awful I usually have to redo them later anyway. Weeks later, I look over the three incredible pages I busted out in a single week and wonder what the problem was. I've "talked down" friends who fear they'll never draw another panel again, then seethed with jealousy when they hit a productive streak a month later and whip out a short story in minutes. I know there are a few freaks among us that are never at a loss for work and who are consistently professional and productive. The rest of us hate them.

4.) We're hi-laaarious!

Comics people have the best senses of humor out of all humans I have ever met on this planet. Never have I seen such a consistently funny group of folks. Comics, as a medium, often relies on humor to carry its story or message, but there are a ton of dour, somber or depressing works with no larfs whatsoever, so the funny is nice but not necessary. The creators, though - that's another story. Why do you think I so love the cons, the parties? Even the depressoes can laugh at themselves.

5.) We can handle solitude, in fact we need plenty of it.

I need people around to be productive, but only in the short term. I draw in coffee shops and with pals to break up the rest of the day, which is sitting in my studio alone contemplating the nuts and bolts of how to put the comics together. I can ink while drinking beer and guffawing at wild tales, but the hard work of editing dialogue and placing panels into smooth layouts must be done privately, without distraction. I freak out and lose my center when I don't get enough time alone. Nothing resets my internal barometer better than a walk around the city or a long, slow bike ride alone. When I read a comic, I'm studying - I'm trying to unravel the tricks, memorize the well-drawn and pick apart the missteps. I can't have a conversation going in the background. Out of all the cartoonists I know, I actually have the best tolerance for producing work in public. Most people I know can't do more than a half-hearted sketch when out at a bar or in a park.

6.) We love to gossip about our own.

It's still a tiny, tiny world in alternative comics. Put one toe in the pool and you'll be sucked in. Go to one show and you'll have a dozen new friends. I learned the hard way this year that there are no secrets amongst my peers. I've heard so much gossip and "news" and "don't tell, but"s - solicited and un-. I'm trying hard to be the last stop on the underground news wire - it'll come to me but it won't go anywhere. But god you guys make it hard. So much intrigue! So much have-you-heard! So much booze loosening tongues! Plus it doesn't help that cartoonists seem to love hooking up with one another - there are almost no female cartoonists without male cartoonist boyfriends, and when the proportion of male to female evens out in the coming years, I wonder if we'll start splitting off from the rest of the population and start breeding out a separate race of observant, ascerbic, brush-wielding trolls living in the ink-stained foothills.

God, there's so much more I could list... I'll think about this for a couple of days. Can you add any commonalities you've noticed amongst this strange and intriguing group of people?

2008-01-05T15:07:00.001-08:00

NMSD.

Back in 1999, I contributed a 2-page comic to Not My Small Diary #7. Eight years later, here I am doing a three-pager for issue 14. It's been some time since I've done a straight autobio story, and the thing I noticed was how similar they seem - pacing and storytelling-wise. It makes me want to carefully consider new methods of narrative structure, new ways to roll out that story carpet in a less straightforward way.

Already 2008 is shaping up nicely. I've done more drawing since Tuesday than I did cumulatively in the last couple of weeks. I've spent quality (drawing) time with lots of comics buddies - shout out Greg! Alec! Ryland! Nick! I've got lots of you still to get in touch with. While they're still fresh in my mind, I can implement some new mental habits and keep them working on my behalf. New music and freshly-framed art on the walls are doing significant wonders for my serotonin levels, as well as appreciation for daily niceties: incredibly hot showers, coffee-based treats, quality shoes.

I wonder if I should make an attempt to review, or at least share my opinions on, the scads of comics and books I've been reading lately - Exit Wounds, Acme Novelty Library #18, the Schulz biography. Perhaps in a later post. I've been liking and enjoying the works, which is nice after several months of scoffing and fuming about the inexplicable lauding and artistic acceptance of certain "art comics" I'd also be best not naming. I may seem like a dismissive cynic with a lot of things, but I'd always much rather love something than hate it (even though it's so hard to find pure quality sometimes!). So I'll be a little more even-handed and carefully-considered in my criticism from now on. I need to let things sit a bit and sink in.

2007-12-31T19:05:00.000-08:00

Sayonara, 2007.

It was a very good year, a hard year, and now it's over.

Listing it up is more impressive than recalling it piece by piece. I bought a house, travelled to Phoenix (twice), New York (twice), Maine (twice), Rhode Island (twice), Maryland and San Francisco (twice). I became an aunt. I finished about half my book. This year marked the first time I began to view myself as becoming recognized in the larger comics community as a fellow professional. It brought out some of the best work I've ever done. And again, I've been lucky enough to meet and grow close with some very fascinating and incredible people.

So the close of this year finds me in a different and perhaps much better place than the outset. I can only hope to say that again this time next year. What do I hope for the coming months?

My greatest resolution is to COMPLETE MY BOOK. A side- or sub-resolution to this is to lay off the pressure I've put myself under in hopes of accomplishing this. No one likes to feel forced and the work itself reflects this. So, sub-res: get back to enjoying what I do best. COMICS!!!

I'd like to continue to travel, and perhaps spend a longer period of time in another area. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, New York calls to me, and I'm always fondest of Portland when returning after a trip. Plus too many of my friends are too far away.

I need to be a little kinder to myself and others. Back when I first moved to town I flirted with the idea of a tattoo on the back of my hand (where all my reminders go) of a symbol from a certain children's anime representing the Crest of Kindness. I might not go as far as to carve this symbol into me, but I can at least remember its meaning, or re-draw it with Sharpies every so often. It's a good thing to keep in mind.

LESS INTERNET TIME.

I also think this is a perfect time to mix it up and start doing some illustrations, color and otherwise, commissioned and otherwise. Sketching for fun and not towards an end. Getting back into art for its own pleasure, not under an obligation. And maybe, just maybe, I'll learn to get better about NOT COMPARING MYSELF TO EVERYONE I KNOW!!! Jeez!

Oh, and I'd like to get better at playing drums. Okay, enough for this year. I'm satisfied.

...and I'm OUT.

2007-12-19T15:34:00.000-08:00

Bird nerd.

I spend most of my day at my computer, staring out of the windows into my and my neighbors' backyards. When it pours rain, as it's doing today, I feel comforted by the smoke rising from the chimney of the house on the next street over. The backyard directly next door has a series of leaning brick columns barely supporting a decomposing fence, and with the stained dark brick and moss overcoat, I'm reminded of the aged tombstones and monuments in my favorite place on earth, the Evergreen Cemetery in Portland, Maine. The magnolia is already budding little silver buds, while the rosebush is still clinging to one fuschia blossom cluster despite the winds. Lately a wonderful group of the most incredible little birds has discovered the bird feeder hanging under the back patio roof, and they're begun perching on the fence directly outside my window to get a look at me.

Being the nature nerd I (secretly?) am, I looked them up in my slightly water-damaged bird book from the Bins. As far as I can tell, the little black-headed hoppers are Oregon juncos. Makes sense, I suppose. For some reason these guys just charm me the way ordinary sparrows don't. I've never seen them in town before, and I hope they stick around after winter.

I used to read bird and mammal identification books often as a kid, copying the illustrations exactly and pedantically quizzing my family. I used to lament that the bluebirds in my forest were the Eastern variety, with more white and black bars, instead of the Western bluebird with the smooth blue heads and shoulders bordered by a soft gray vest. The first week I visited Oregon, I saw a Western bluebird and immediately realized what it was. Now I have a mated pair in my backyard, and like all jays their appeal is very limited, but I can't forget what a reminder they are that I'm living on a different coast, very far from where I grew up.

I hauled all my Xmas-present packages to the post office yesterday on my freight bike, and today braved the rains to attend my first sorely needed (no pun intended) chiropractic appointment. I've been in constant pain for the last few weeks, and it's turned me away from sitting at the drafting table and working. This is the last thing I need. So while I still have my precious health insurance, I'm going to load up on all the care I've denied myself over the last uninsured decade. My spine crackled like a bag of pretzels when the chiro popped me into place. What a relief. Now back to the grindstone!

2007-12-16T22:07:00.000-08:00

Things are looking brighter, figuratively and chromatically.

Between bursts of painting the cabinets, walls and trim of the kitchen, I've been snaking back and forth between a few separate comics projects. In the down time of winter, lying awake in bed at night unable to sleep, I've hashed out some important details of the next few large projects after Ivy. It's time to reach a little farther and bring out some new inventiveness. I have to make this fun again.

My sad little sketchbook has been visited more frequently. My new ski jacket brings me a rainbow of smiles. I'm stretching my legs stylistically in the new comic shorts. While you ponder the puns in that last sentence, I'll slip you my big news: my story for Papercutter #4, Graveyard, was selected for inclusion in the anthology The Best American Comics 2008 - by none other than Lynda Barry. I've never felt so honored in my life. I'm floored.

2007-12-03T18:10:00.000-08:00

Housebound.

My contribution to the Missed Connections comic anthology, completed two days late.

It's pouring. POURING. As a result, I haven't left the house in several days, not even to go to the coffee shop twenty blocks away. You might think I'd take this time to work on my book, but no - I've been fielding an unusually heavy workload from Apparent, catching up on Mario Galaxy and unlocking songs in the sexist and disappointing Guitar Hero 3, and attempting to wrap up a number of small comics for upcoming anthologies. I've also become aware of several fairly intense leaks in my house's foundation, resulting in small waterfalls directly into the basement, and there's a bit of stress in the process of trying to figure out how to implement some sort of French drain system to divert the hundreds of gallons of standing water away from the house. Fuck winter.

I haven't felt like being very social, and what I should be doing (comics) seems to be just a little bit out of reach. I pace around and run treadmills mentally. My house is a slovenly mess, and while I pick at piles of crap now and then, no progress is made. I've let certain dormant family issues rise to the surface. I've got a head cold. I haven't ridden my bike in weeks. Someone kill me!

The worst part is that I have this swelling desire to create, but I can't seem to make my meat machine sit down at the drawing table and git'er done. I spent a lovely long weekend in San Francisco last week on a business/pleasure trip, and I came back to town ready and rarin' to get going once again on Ivy. So what the fuck happened? This can't continue. I'll keep you posted, faithful internet.

2007-11-13T23:16:00.000-08:00

Freedom of '76.

I've been entirely hooked by the new album from one of my all-time favorite bands - Ween. La Cucaracha is catchy as all hell and easily is the sweetest listen since White Pepper. But I'm not here to do a music review; I'm here to take a walk down memory lane. I want to talk about two interconnected things that have been in my life a very long time, two subjects I cannot think of separately without remembering the other. Ween, and my friend Lyndsy.

Lyndsy the week I met her, NYC, August 1996

I discovered Ween at 15 and Lyndsy three years later. They both had and continue to have a huge, enormous, positive presence. Meeting Lynds was the greatest bomb to ever go off in my life. I was not the same person once we started hanging out; she became my soul mate. Our first year together in New York and Providence was a mad ride of hilarity and adventures, but when we parted, our friendship didn't fade or take a back burner like so many often do. Even when I moved across the country we kept in close contact, seeing one another more often than we saw our own families.

Lyndsy with "missing" brownie teeth, 1996

Now Lynds' family needs her, and I realize once again how much she has given me, year after year. Lynds, I fuckin' love you and I want to give you an enormous and public SHOUT OUT for being a strong, amazing, gorgeous woman who rises above the clouds of shitstorms again and again. YOU. ARE. INCREDIBLE.

Maybe you have to have been a 19-year-old girl to understand this, but Ween is so integrally tied into our friendship that I cannot separate my association with them and her. Ween WAS our soundtrack for years. I've seen them live more than any band (though never lately, when they only play huge outdoor venues and their crowd drifted over once Phish stopped touring).

Sophomore year. What a year!

I was in tenth grade when I picked up the Pure Guava cassette, hooked by the vanity of seeing my own name on the track list and of hearing "Big Jilm" on WMPG college radio. I'm twice as old now as I was then and I still have new Ween albums to pick up. Like my friendship with Lyndsy, drawing comics, and my affection for the weed, some things will always be. And now, I urge you to watch an amazing clip from 1993: Gene and Dean high out of their minds on the Jane Pratt show. Well done, fellows. Don't miss the final 10 seconds for the scream.

2007-11-01T15:33:00.000-07:00

The Saga of Lester Beans.

My obligatory "haul shot" from SPX.

I've been busy, yadda yadda. So here's some neat things going on I can share. First, congratulations to Petr and Rose, and to their beautiful and weird wedding ceremony - it was gorgeous. Second, hi to anyone I haven't written back to post-SPX; I'm trying to amend my ways about correspondence replies. I had a great time at SPX - there won't be another wrapup, but my photos are here (I bought a Flickr pro account just for them) and videos here.

Photo by Dylan Williams.

Since I've been back in town I've spoken to Bernadette and Gretchen, the lovely women behind Baker's Mark Literary Agency, and realizing that they can't sell my book until it's close to done has lit a fire under my ass like you can't believe. I've been bustin' out pages left and right. Boom! Pow! Also, if you've been wondering why my website hasn't been updated, my old computer died and I lost the site password. Hopefully this will be remedied soon.

So here's a good tale. About a month ago we started getting visits from a gray and white cat. I figured he lived on the block; he had a collar and was obviously someone's pet. He seemed fed and was the friendliest little guy; I'd find him asleep in the sun on one of the backyard chairs and he'd hop off and come over to my lap without being asked. He started showing up more and more often, until I realized he was just living in our backyard, eating the food my neighbor leaves out for his outdoor cats. He was so goofy and retarded, climbing on my shoulders and drooling, so I named him Beans. But later I noticed his dignified walk and style, so he became Mr. Lester Beans (this name evolved in the course of only a few days).

He was breaking my heart, so I took the leap and made a vet appointment, planning to clear up any flea or earmite problems before inviting him into the house. My FOUR other cats were not amused by this newcomer, so my plan was to keep him inside long enough to rehome him amongst my friends or, failing that, Craigslist. I brought him to the vet strapped to my bike, and lo and behold, he had a microchip implanted in his back. I pedaled him home, called the chip company, called the vet's office they directed me to, then called the owner. Turns out Beans, aka "Dapper Dan," was missing for over a month and his mom thought he was gone forever. My guess is that he just took a long walk one day and forgot how to get back. (Goofy, as I said.). It felt great to send him home, but I've already looked out the bathroom window twice this afternoon at his chair, checking on him.

2007-10-09T22:35:00.001-07:00

Stumptown was a blast. Everything I wanted it to be... unfortunately I am packing and preparing for the trip across the country to SPX, so no lengthy rundown of the Fest weekend right now. I had my hands full at the table all weekend, saw some amazing people, bought some fantastic art, and sweated myself foul freaking out for my panel. Thanks to everyone who stopped by, said hello, purchased a print or a mini, or just enjoyed themselves at the con. Portland's pet indie show is growing up and taking its place among the other three- and four-lettered-anagrammed American comics gatherings, and I'm unbelievably happy to have took part in it. Rock!!

2007-09-25T14:54:00.000-07:00

Sudden Death.

I needed to finish up a bunch of stuff over the weekend - most notably, the second chapter of Ivy. Tuesday (today) would be the night I was to speak at the Multnomah County Library, and I needed the chapters finished up and with cover images to print into minicomics. So of course, what happens? Friday morning I wake up and turn on the ol' EMachine. Nothing.

Dead.

Three and a half years of working perfectly - no crashes, no memory loss. And now when I need her the most she lets me down.

I was without a machine all weekend; fortunately Petr came to my rescue and fixed me up with a new Gateway (which has crashed twice in the two days I've had it), and he rescued my hard drive and transferred my files to the new machine. I have none of my old programs except the 15- 0r 30-day trial versions of Photoshop and Nero. I had to run out and buy a new scanner and wireless card because my old ones aren't compatible with Windows Vista (thumbs down on Vista, btw). I lost such seemingly trivial things as my downloaded (and paid for) games, Firefox bookmarks and auto-fill passwords. But somehow in the middle of all this I managed to bust out the last six pages of Ivy Chapter Two, both covers for the minis, and an illustration for the Willamette Week. How did I do it, you might ask? Well, I got this secret weapon now.

It's called a work schedule.

I have been living with some very bad habits these days, the greatest of which was the way I spent my time. I wasted huge chunks of daylight hours screwing around. But no longer! My schedule now takes me through a decent 6 hours of working time between 9 and 5, and I see now that when I stick to it, things get done. Amazing. My hope for finishing this monster is renewed. An added benefit is that I've been coming up with new ideas for side projects as well. I'm already mulling over a series of short stories about a retirement community who experiences an outbreak of gonorrhea. It's called Swinghaven and takes place in one of those guarded, gated buildings with a pool and a bingo room. The cast of characters is already forming in my mind. Keep posted!

2007-09-17T21:32:00.001-07:00

Otters in love.

This new print will debut at Stumptown as part of my "instant cavity" cuteness series. Just kidding. (about the series, not the debut.) Hey, 8,012,245 YouTube viewers can't be wrong.

2007-09-14T19:16:00.001-07:00

TCB.

Here's a sneak preview of the comic I did for the Mercury.

(click for larger.)

I'm gonna have to hustle if I want to get the first two chapters out in minicomics form for Stumptown, so I have no time to chat. Enjoy the pretty colors!

2007-09-11T10:00:00.001-07:00

Moooooooooooan...

I'm in pain. Why? We installed the bamboo floor in the kitchen two days ago and I forgot that I am not a sprightly young lady anymore. I overexerted myself.

This is what we started with: a ripped-up linoleum floor from decades past (which we've been living with for the last 2 months), with tar paper put down over the half of the floor the fridge and stove wasn't sitting on.

Matt's job was to man the nail gun, since he could strike the button with enough force to really chunk the nails in properly. I gave it a try and the thing would jump out of place at the second of impact, leaving half-imbedded nails that were a bitch to remove.

So my job was as follows: Place a plank against the space left and mark the length it needed to be with a sharp thumbnail score. Run out to the garage and cut it to size with a miter saw on the floor. Run back to the kitchen, place the board and use a pull bar to wedge it against its brethren, then use a tapping block to set it up against the line of the rest of the flooring. Enter Matt with three or four taps, and repeat. Over. And. Over. For. Six. Hours.

My knees were torn up at the end, but look what we got out of it:

Lovely! With some baseboards the room will really come together.

But now I am paying the price of all that kneeling and squatting in the form of some extreme muscle soreness and stiffness. You may or may not know this, but next week brings the advent of my 30th birthday, and while that number cannot be considered "old" by any means I certainly see the slow decline of my physicality start to loom largely in the distance. Out with friends last night I asked, "Where did my 20's go?", but then I thought of the last six years I have spent in P-town, making friends and having capers, traveling all over the world, and I was like, "Oh yeah. Living a great life." My thirties will be about getting serious. Seriously wasted! HA!!! Oh, I kid. But honestly - if I finish this book, remodel this house, and score a publishing deal in the next couple of years, I'll be satisfied. I want to be able to grow enough vegetables to supply myself, Matt, and most/all of my friends with food next summer and fall. I want to construct a raccoon-proof henhouse and adopt three lovely chicken ladies for the backyard. I want to afford to travel and see my sister and her son before he's much larger, and return to Tokyo for a longer trip. I want to continue to avoid owning a vehicle. I want to do a long bike tour. I want the next decade to be AMAZING.

So as far as the next month goes, I'm looking at some interesting developments in my comicking career. On the 25th Erika Moen and I are giving a talk at the North Portland Library about our autobio comics as part of their Zinesters Talking series. Then, of course, on the 29th and 30th I'll be at the Lloyd Center Doubletree for the Stumptown Comics Fest, which of course I hope you local PDXers will attend. That Sunday (the 30th) at 2 pm is my panel, tentatively titled Sarah Oleksyk's Excellent Adventures, where I will be giving a rundown of my ways and means. The Willamette Week has asked me to give a short interview and provide a piece of art for a feature they plan to run, but my prior experience with them as a periodical has not been positive, so that's still up in the air. (The column they ran about our City Hall art show was extremely backhanded, and they ran my art without crediting me.) But I'm doing a color strip for the Mercury as part of their promotional Stumptown issue, and I hope it gets some crowds in there, because last year was a ghost town and I think it made some out-of-towners think twice about making the trip this year. (Don't give up, little ones! Come back!)

I think you'll like the Mercury strip, by the way. I pulled out all the stops. Two words: kitten factory.

2007-09-05T10:29:00.000-07:00

The Treadmill.

Work has been coming along fairly steadily on the house; I wish I could say the same for my comics. I've decided, in the interest of having something on my table at Stumptown, to print up each chapter of Ivy as its own individual minicomic. That way I can get the work out in the world and perhaps light a fire under my ass to get more completed. I seriously cannot believe how long this book will take me to finish. I'm beyond sick of it.

Matt has been setting up the garage as a print shop, and we'll put it to the test soon - we've run out of most of our prints, and I have a few new ones I'd like to have ready to sell. I also have plans to make more cat toys and other little gifty items - anything to take up that looming tabletop. I'd also like to have something to bring to SPX, so people know me as a cartoonist and not just as some party-girl hanger-on (a comics groupie?).

I have to say, though, I'm so happy the upstairs bathroom is done (except for some paint touchups). Just to jog your memory, here are some "before" pictures:

Unbefuckinglievable. People lived here like this? Look at the unfinished board "panelling"!

Love that luxury vanity setup. I felt like a true princess.

And now, the shocking conclusion:

Whoa! It looks... clean! And inviting! Cobalt blue tiled floor, spackled walls (they're a very light lilac but it's hard to tell except in direct sun), new toilet, and a cabinet from Craigslist.

We "re-contextualized" a 60's-era stereo cabinet for the sink. Matt drilled out all the holes to fit the plumbing inside (there's a shelf in there now) and installed the vessel sink. The ginormous mirror makes the room look more open.

The only thing we kept was the tub. Those are new faucet handles and hand-placed tiles. Can I say this is the best shower/bathtub I've had since moving to Portland? The clawfoot at the last apartment was so heavy and cold, the tub water would be lukewarm by the time it was filled. Here we have the HOTTEST water, and that tub is like 18" deep.

So things are running along nicely at ol' Dekum Shack. All that's left as far as the upstairs is placing the bamboo floor in the kitchen. I wish I could say the same for the outside, however.

My biggest fear, especially after living next to the cuntalicious Amanda Benz (yeah, I called you out bitch, eat it!) for the last few years, was that I would have some issue with the new neighbors at this place - and since we bought this house, we'd be stuck with the problems long-term. Well. Unfortunately one of the sad facts of life is that you will consistently get shit flung at you over and over again, and you just have to deal. I should have seen this coming.

My next-door neighbor has lots of two things: dead pick-up trucks and dogs. The street outside my house, his house and the neighbors' house is lined with five rusted-out trucks. This is nicely complemented by the two beater motorcycles in his trash-strewn driveway, which take about 35 minutes of revving (especially after 10 pm) to start. And apparently this guy, Shane, likes to collect things, because his FIVE giant, male boxer/pit dogs who live in the backyard just wasn't enough - he went to the Humane Society about two weeks ago and added a little black and white terrier, whose squeaking, piccolo-like bark adds to the almost nonstop chorus of canine voices that float into my house day and night. Every time I was in the backyard the mass of dogs would rush up to the chain-link fence between our properties and snarl, growl and leap. I might take this moment to mention that while I like many dogs, I have a deep-rooted fear of them (I was mauled in the face by one when I was a toddler and sometimes a snarling dog causes an unexpectedly emotional reaction even today). We hung tarps over the fence to try and block their view of our backyard, but they can still hear us, and usually they don't even need a reason to start up.

I called the city to find out who the landlady was, since our other neighbors told us that place was a rental, but to my horror I learned that Shane was indeed the owner, and therefore probably not going anywhere soon. So this must be dealt with more delicately. I have all the numbers and forms in place to call about noise complaints and house inspections, but I guess some discussion is in order first. I just hate to be put through this again. Every time I hear those snarls and barks I want to cry. I can't even hang out in my own backyard. Fuck people!!!

2007-08-11T11:41:00.001-07:00

Where I'm At.

Hey kids. Long time no see (even though I have no idea who reads this thing anymore, and with good reason - a month between updates? What?). I've been really, really busy and super stressed out. We're in the new house full time, but very little is finished - the upstairs bathroom still lacks a toilet, sink and functional shower, while the entire downstairs is torn out. Our electrician disappeared for two weeks, leaving half the outlets in the house non-functional, so our fridge and my workstation run on extension cords that snake through the house. We've sort of devised a functional daily setup, but it'll be lovely to get a functioning bathroom that includes a sink. I'm very happy with the way things are turning out, though - all the house projects, while time-consuming, are unbelievably satisfactory when completed.

I've got a great plan for the fall, comics-wise, but it remains to be seen whether I can pull it off. If the plan succeeds I will have something very interesting to share. Oh! I got my ticket to SPX, my first time, and I'll be spending a few more days in NYC after that. So open your hearts and doors and couches to me people, cause God willing I'll be on the east coast again soon. Ciao!

2007-07-18T10:43:00.000-07:00

Three more days until Deathly Hallows!

I can't wait, but I'll be so sad to have the series end. T-minus 72 hours until total nerdout!

2007-07-15T15:35:00.000-07:00

An Interlude of Appreciation.

I just took a little break from finishing off the line art for the Stumptown Comics Fest 2007 poster, and while sitting on the front porch in the overcast heat, I realized how much I love Portland Oregon and the fact that I live here. Then I Virgoed out and made a list. Here you go:

One Hundred Things I Love about Portland, OR

1. The colors people paint their houses.
2. Multnomah County Library - the biggest and best!
3. The main downtown branch of the library (especially the stairs).
4. Giant trees.
5. Raccoons in the neighborhoods.
6. The Springwater Trail.
7. Rainbows all spring.
8. Potlucks.
9. The East Side Esplanade.
10. The general friendliness of people on the street.
11. Everything in town is within biking distance.
12. Clothing swaps.
13. Karaoke.
14. Biking in a gang of people at night.
15. No mosquitoes!
16. No sales tax!
17. Nude beaches.
18. The Oregon Bond Loan that allowed us to afford our house.
19. Good fertile soil.
20. House parties.
21. After-hours dance clubs.
22. The bike community.
23. Comics Night (and afternoons).
24. All the cartoonists who have moved here.
25. Porches.
26. Snow-free winters.
27. Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens.
28. The drivers are more respectful of cyclists here.
29. Thrift stores - the best!
30. Everyone has great fashion.
31. Microclimates within the city.
32. Couch, Overlook, Alberta, Irving, Peninsula and Forest Parks.
33. Beautiful people everywhere!
34. Rocky and Powell Butte.
35. Uwajimaya and Kinokuniya.
36. Chickens.
37. Pedicabs and bike-delivered pizza.
38. Awesome backyards.
39. Inner City Hot Tubs (before they closed down).
40. Fruit trees and bushes on sidewalks.
41. The Rebuilding Center.
42. Rhubarb Alley. (my secret.)
43. Tri-Met, which goes everywhere.
44. McMennamins and Laurelhurst Theaters.
45. Fareless Square.
46. That I knew right away I'd be living here when I first visited.
47. Live music.
48. First and Last Thursdays.
49. The bridge on SW Vista overlooking the MAX tunnel.
50. The ice rink at Lloyd Center (Tonya Harding used to train there!).
51. Hoyt Arboretum.
52. Big Pink.
53. The view of downtown from the top of SE Lincoln Ave.
54. Great beer.
55. Great weed.
56. The DIY scene.
57. Smith and Bybee Lakes.
58. The Albina Press, Fresh Pot, and Star E. Rose coffeehouses.
59. The marina.
60. Canada geese.
61. The Bins!
62. The many Flexcars in every area.
63. Farmer's markets and greengrocers.
64. Weirdoes abound.
65. Chunk 666 and the Zoobombers.
66. Powell's, In Other Words, Reading Frenzy and Counter Media.
67. I met Matt here!
68. Free boxes.
69. Everyone who visits loves this town.
70. The IPRC.
71. I found a great job here.
72. I live in the company of other professionals in my field.
73. The Broadway, St. John's and Hawthorne bridges.
74. Variable weather patterns.
75. Craigslist is hopping here.
76. Hipster yard sales.
77. Voodoo Donuts.
78. Pho Jasmine, my favorite restaurant.
79. Garage-door murals.
80. The Avalon Arcade.
81. Dry summers.
82. Flowers really early in springtime.
83. Rooftop hangouts.
84. Green grass year round.
85. Food carts downtown.
86. Gresham (for being Portland's whipping boy).
87. The wetlands park in the Pearl.
88. That brick brewery building covered in ivy downtown.
89. Stencils, stickers and graffiti in the Eastside Industrial area.
90. Blackberry picking on the roadsides.
91. Dogs riding in bike trailers.
92. The ride down Mt. Tabor and the SW hills.
93. Neighborhood resistance to WalMart and chain stores.
94. The air of inclusiveness from the people here.
95. Activism.
96. Rose gardens.
97. My cats like it here.
98. Alleyways.
99. People have moved here from all over the country.
100. I have met some of my best friends out here.

Whooh! It's nice to really stop and think of the details. This list is by no means all-inclusive, but I feel so much better after taking the time to appreciate what this town means to me now that I own a little part of it. Thanks for being yourself, PDX, and for letting us all do the same.

2007-07-06T10:04:00.000-07:00

House.

Yeah, we bought a house. It's awesome.

We got it more cheaply than you might expect for a solid, 1650-sf 1942 ranch in NE Portland, due to its complete lack of "curb appeal." Note the absence of any landscaping. This is exactly what I wanted - a blank slate.

The entire backside of the house is a covered patio leading to a private, shady backyard complete with a stone wall.

The first thing we did when we got the keys was to pull down a hunk of textured plaster from the living room ceiling. It was my champagne-bottle christening. I have since spent the last week scraping the rest of the crap off the surface in hopes to sand it flat and repaint it.

Here is what the kitchen used to look like. Your eyes do not deceive you; that is indeed outdoor patio tile on the floor, and it is a full 2" higher than the hardwoods in the living room.

After two days' hard hammerin' on Matt's part...

We took the floor down to the linoleum. There are fir floors underneath, but since we aren't so interested in peeling up asbestos, we're going to layer a red bamboo over it.

The upstairs bathroom was the singular most ugly bathroom I've ever seen in my life. The same patio tile as in the kitchen gives way to raw boards screwed into the walls, accented by plastic "marble" in the shower and some "brown star" (appropriate!) DIY stencil accents on the walls. Not pictured: 70's disco vanity lighting (rusted), askew medicine cabinet (rusted), porno mag from 1979 under the sink cabinet (which we removed entirely).

The basement has its own separate studio apartment. Here is the kitchen as of a week ago; we've since removed the bookshelves and are dismantling the homemade cabinetry. We plan to replace it with salvaged cabinets and countertops from the Rebuilding Center.

The downstairs "bedroom." It was a band practice room, and thus had not only acoustic tile on the ceiling (which I think we'll keep), but carpet all over the walls. We stripped the carpet not only off the walls but the floor as well, revealing eye-poppingly hideous green institutional linoleum. Matt says he likes it, but he went to junior high in California and not in a 100-year-old vertical brick prison building in Maine where this lino was the order of the day (1954). So a new floor must be chosen.

Matt's folks brought over an electric lawn mower, complete with green cord that trailed on the green lawn. It was helpful to bring some shape to the back yard, however, and I can't wait to plot out all the awesome things I plan to do back there. There's already fruiting cherry and pear trees!

Bryan Arakelian, our real estate agent extraordinaire. I can't even tell you how many places we dragged him to to look at (26) before finding this one. If you're planning to buy a house in PDX I will give you Bryan's info, because he is the BEST. Look no further!

We have tons of things left to do on this place, but hell, we've got all month before moving in. I'm looking forward specifically to the tiling projects - the bathroom floor and around the shower, the fireplace in the living room and the kitchen countertops. Stay tuned!

2007-07-03T10:41:00.000-07:00

Wrapup of the 2007 MoCCA Drunkfe- I mean, Comics Fest.

Since I've been flying around the country and running nonstop here in Portland the last month or so, I hope you can forgive my recent lack of posts. I finally managed to upload all my MoCCA Festival pictures to my flickr feed, so here's a quick breakdown in pictures.

The main floor at the Puck Building. The huge windows and white-on-white interior helped make the crowds seem less crushing.

Julia Wertz. My sister-in-comics not only kept me company the whole weekend, but introduced me to an awesome bunch of ladies who formed my party crew (Laura Park, Shannon O'Leary and Sarah Glidden). Isn't she cute in her dress? It was gone by 2 pm.

Ryan Dunlavey and Fred van Lente, of Action Philosophers. I used to know these guys way back in my Parsons days and I hadn't seen them in a dozen years, so it was great to catch up.

Aaron Renier and his friend (Lauren?). A Portland defector to Brooklyn, but he seems all the happier for it. Nice to see you, Aaron!

Mr. Phil and Charlito from Indie Spinner Rack. Every picture of these guys I saw from the weekend looks exactly like this one. They were hilarious!

Crystal Skillman, my old college roommate! Long time no see! She's a bigshot Broadway playwright now, and I can't wait to get back to the city to see one of her productions. Actually, I just can't wait to get back to the city in general, since this weekend went by waaaaay too fast...

Sarah Glidden, Ken "Gabby" Dahl, Julia Wertz. We were trying to corral people for the walk up to Gstaad for the Top Shelf anniversary party. Gabby's "Monsters" minicomic was one of the best things I picked up to MoCCA, even though it's been out for a while and I should have gotten it already.

Sarah Glidden and Shannon O'Leary walking up 6th Ave to the Top Shelf party. Look at those red dresses!

After the open bar left its mark deeply on us, we found a "secret room" at Gstaad that featured untouched plates of food, makeout couches and some Top Shelf shot glasses (an appropriate memento of the weekend). We also found their mailing list, which we vandalized. Sorry Brett! Here Laura Park, Keith Knight and Julia leave their calling cards.

The final result.

Outside the club, a throng of drunk cartoonists (is there any other kind) amassed in a nerdy, adrenalized flock. The bouncer wasn't letting the drunkest back in, so the street outside was more packed than the interior.

The con was a hungover affair the next day. I didn't take many pictures, since it was mainly the same deal, but the fun began once the event wrapped up for the weekend and folks started to drift beerward.

The girls had to haul their entire luggage, PLUS our loot bags (or "funbags" as per JW) to the Burp Castle, where Sarah's friend promised us a stash space and some delicious brews.

I get better acquainted with a giant Mario!

My Portland friends T. Edward Bak (blurry) and Dylan Williams (licky) met up with us at the Burp Castle. Bak kept "joking" that he was drinking on our tab, and when it came time to pay up and he disappeared, I learned he was right. Hope you liked that going-away present, dude! (No, seriously, I'll miss you Bak. Come back to PDX when the winter in Vermont kicks your ass.)

Ladies on the patio. An excellent combination.

Gabrielle Bell, Tom Hart, Karen Sneider, Robyn Chapman. I had a great chat with these ladies (Karen and Robyn). Man, hanging out with girltoonists makes everything better in my life!

The bar was all dark wood with this mind-blowing mural of drunk Franciscan monks that wrapped around every wall. Ben Catmull stands resolutely in the center.

On the patio was where the fun really swung into gear. Julia, Sarah, Laura and I were joined by Geoff Vasile and Tom Kaczynski.

Laura looks less than amused, but I hope she was enjoying herself (Geoff seemed to).

Drunk drawing of me by Laura Park (note panties around ankles).

What a time.

My haul!

I just wanted to leave you with some creepy, disgusting manicured "hands" that lined a window on E 35th. In a way they stand for all that went down this weekend. In another way, I have no idea what I'm talking about. Hope you all had a great time!

2007-06-01T09:30:00.000-07:00

Home Again.

Our trip to New England was a delight. Beautiful weather and easy traveling made the weekend stress-free, and I got to see basically every relative I have on my paternal side of the family. I'll post a complete photo tour once Matt dumps his shots (we took over 300 pictures) on his flickr site. Now I'm back home and trying to face reality once again in the form of unfinished artistic obligations. We had a spread at Last Thursday yesterday and though we didn't sell anything, I unloaded a bunch of business cards, so hopefully more folks will check out my site.

I finished my Muumuu dress. I'd bought a beautiful, if slightly oversized, muumuu at the Bins last week with high hopes of transforming it into something wonderful. Blame it on my watching the entire first season of Project Runway last weekend.

Before. Photo by Heather.

I brought it to Jenevive's cool NW apartment for a craft sleepover with Heather and Lisa last Thursday, and got about 80% completed. Then I wrapped it up before wearing it out to Alberta and I have to say it is a success.

After. I'd planned to make a belt out of the sleeve pieces but opted for a metallic fishscale stretch belt I got at the Bins at the same time.

Redundant glamour shot - I couldn't resist.

So the only bummer (but a big one) awaiting us after our four-plane-ride, 22-hour commute back to Portland was lurking in the backyard. I went out back Thursday morning to water the garden and... it was gone. Our entire garden was leveled. All my starts, my lettuce and tomato plants, had been pulled up at the roots and discarded. Four dirt beds stared at me blankly as I stared right back. When we left, the back beds were in a state of general disrepair - the grass and weeds had grown up to about two feet in between the beds, and two of the beds had overgrown plants and weeds from the year before. But we'd completely cleaned out and fertilized our plot, and had neat rows of produce and seeds started, carefully labeled and watered. After sobbing on the phone to Matt for about twenty minutes, I called my landlord Aram to figure out what had happened. He had no idea, and called his landscapers and every tenant in the building. So far, no one's owned up to it. But it wasn't done casually - someone with tools came in to take out the weeds and grass. I just can't believe someone would look at an obviously tended garden and decide to pull out healthy, growing vegetables. Well, thank you, whoever did this. You've set me back months in the prime growing season and you've sowed your own seeds of mistrust and resentment in me. I have an idea of who is responsible and I'm going to go about getting my reimbursements.

I gotta get the hell out of here.

2007-05-17T22:45:00.000-07:00

Hand Job.

I've been avoiding unnecessary keystrokes at the computer lately. My hands and wrists have been on fire. For the past few years, I've occasionally experienced pretty intense joint pain in my right (writing, drawing, computer) wrist. It comes and goes, and I bought a cuff to wear whenever it returns so I don't jostle my hand and cause more pain. This time, however was different, and scary.

The first two fingers of my right hand swelled up and I got a thick, sharp, hot, buzzing pain in the joints. Both wrists started to bother me. I've been wearing the cuff for three or four days (and nights) to keep it straight, but the first joint on my right index finger - the clicker - tugged and pulled at my attention, whining in pain. Since I pay for health insurance now, I booked myself a visit to the clinic, and they set me up with a "nerve conduction" test today. I blithely breezed into the lab this morning, not knowing what was lying in store for me.

Meet the NC Stat.

The NC Stat is a lovely little device that pumps rhythmic lobs of electrical current into your wrists and out your fingertips via the nerve channels in your hand. When the nurse explained it to me it sounded unthreatening, almost pleasant. I imagined a gentle buzzing slowly rising to the "plateau" of perhaps a tingling. What I wasn't prepared for was a sharp burst of a shock, bam, bam, into my already screaming hands, so intense that my entire body jumped and tried to coil into a fetal position - then another, and another, twenty or so in all coming every 2 seconds and increasing in intensity. Once the first series was done I sat gasping with tears pouring down my face and chew marks involuntarily bitten into my lips. I went through four series of 20 or so shocks altogether - a radius (middle finger) and ulna (little finger) nerve series for each hand. The right-hand radius (the first one) was the worst. I might sound like a baby, but I've been shocked by electric fences before (cattle strength) and it wasn't nearly as strong. It was the sort of pain your body just tries to get away from. By the third one I tried concentrating on the cover of a National Geographic sitting in a basket - sailfish in tropical waters - to try and take my mind off the experience, but images of electric eels stinging me over and over into the wrist invaded my mind's eye. It was over soon enough and I managed to put it behind me and enjoy the lovely day, drawing comics at the Fresh Pot with Lisa and running into friends out and about. It's definitely run-into-everyone season. So I may take a little break from blogging to try and save my fingers for comics (like anyone even reads this anymore, heh). These anti-inflammatory drugs are keeping me a bit looped, so I don't have much in the way of cohesive thoughts to share regardless.

2007-05-01T11:39:00.000-07:00

Phoooooooooooooo. (That's me trying to breathe out the poison left in me from yesterday.)

Okay. No more house. I can handle that. Bears has been put to rest. I didn't get cut during either of the race-fueled fights on the 6 yesterday. Basically, the day ended and a new one dawned. I was still in a morose mood when I arose at 7:30 am today, so I read through a graphic novel I picked up at the library yesterday - the first issue of Nakazawa's Barefoot Gen. A light-hearted romp about a family who voice anti-war sentiments and get shunned as traitors in Hiroshima just weeks before the bomb drops, and the grueling, unbelievably graphic aftermath as the kid's hair falls out and his few remaining family members starve. What makes this book special to me is that it is actually the very first graphic novel I remember ever reading, in 5th grade at the age of ten.

Flashback: in 1987, young Sarah was an angry and disobedient little girl. It was the first year I became a frequent detention member. My best friend and I penned a 9-page poem in rhyming couplets about destroying "subs," or substitute teachers (even though we hated our regular teachers too). My weird tastes in art and literature were just beginning to fully blossom, as were both my set of boobs and my impressive, consumptive acne. This led to my two favorite books: a memoir about a retarded boy who gets sent away after raping (and killing?) a little girl titled Burt, and Barefoot Gen. Almost two decades later, it's just as gory and crazy as I remember - the whole book is basically beatdowns until the bomb drops. I started sneaking down into the WWII section of the Portland (Maine) Public Library and reading the accounts of Jewish concentration-camp victims (while ignoring the accounts of Russian and Chinese POWs in Japanese camps, of which my grandmother and great-grandmother were two); bomb victims, gory battlefields, people hiding behind false walls in barns.

Two years later heralded the release of Maus, and I went to see Art Spiegelman speak at the Art Museum with my mom's girlfriend, Annette. I felt so grown-up and cultured sitting in that basement room, looking at slides and thinking, "This is a real cartoonist!" I'd already been writing my own strip, The Punch Line, for over a year. When it came time to get my book signed, I got all shy, but I managed to tell Spiegelman that I, too, had big dreams to "work in the field" one day. At the age of twelve, I was already sure. I saw him again last week at APE, at a table and absolutely flooded with people. Twenty years later, and we're both still in it.

So today I'll crank up Camper Van Beethoven and put some girly shit in my hair, and sit and ink my book. When life is a shitstorm, art is your only umbrella.

2007-04-28T16:56:00.000-07:00

Right Place, Right Time.

Matt and I in SF.

APE at the Concourse.

This week has been sucked away into the twin distractions of out-of-state travel and the house-buying process. I don't want to say too much about the latter, since everything's complicated and up in the air, but the trip to San Francisco and APE was fun if not relaxing. I didn't spend much quality time there involved with comics stuff - just partying (of course), boozing and gossiping and guffawing. I met up with my old high school friend Dan and wandered the sunny streets, smoking and catching up and absorbing the beautiful city sights.

The gallery after-party. We escaped to a dive across the street for further merriment.

We're tourists!

In the last few days I've been witness to several small but noteworthy moments. I can chalk this up to being outside more, and to always noticing when little events catch my eye. Today while riding across the pedestrian bridge over I-5, I heard a strange whirring, ripping sound. I watched as a mattress and box frame whipped off the top of a loaded car passing beneath me and landed in the right-hand lane. I stood and watched as the little wagon pulled over and two men ran out and dragged their bed from the highway as cars dodged around them. I didn't know whether I'd see an accident, and luckily it became an anecdote and not a bad memory. Then there was the moment last week where I passed two teenage girls holding bottles-in-paper-bags on my way to a potluck at Heather's; the very moment I passed one girl, she leaned out and projected an arc of booze vomit into the street. Guess you had to be there. And while returning to Matt's brother Kevin's apartment in the Noe Valley stroller-and-designer-dog neighborhood, we were lucky enough to witness a man offer his umbrella to a girl walking near him as the rain began to fall. The two strangers huddled together and walked quickly up the sidewalk, and I flashed forward in my imagination to their future grandchildren asking them how they met. There are so many little moments going on simultaneously in this world, and to catch a few peripherally on my own way through life is such a small but profound pleasure.

2007-04-16T23:57:00.000-07:00

Up and Up.

After the shitstorm that was last week, things have settled down and are perhaps even on the upswing. Springtime makes it that much easier to see the positive; no matter how blackened your mood may be, when you leave the house and let the pink and green of your neighborhood settle into your vision and the sweet, lurid grass and pollen scents rush into your face - the crap just falls away. Good things are happening. The Willamette Week called me today to ask permission to run my image alongside a feature about the Sam Adams/City Hall show, so there's a reason to pick up that rag this week. And I don't want to jinx it, but we might have found our house today... just sayin'; we don't know anything yet.

I hadn't started a garden this spring in anticipation of moving, but I might still go out and throw some lettuce in the ground. The tulips I planted last fall are in bloom out back, more a source of cut flowers than for any landscaping use. I need to get outside and get physical with my hands and legs again, biking and dancing and digging in the ground. This Saturday we fly into San Francisco, and that will be a big social weekend - so this week will be more for me and my mind, getting both of us back into a state that welcomes events with hope instead of dread. A few days to remind myself of who I am and what I'm doing are sorely needed. SF pals, look for me at APE!

2007-04-06T17:55:00.000-07:00

Matt's scooter was stolen last night.

It had a fork lock on the front, which means in order to roll it forward, someone had to drill the lock out. A better theory is that someone just loaded it onto the back of a truck. It could also have been put on a pallet and rolled somewhere close. These Vespas are not common, especially this original tomato-red color, so if you live in my neighborhood (Alberta/Mississippi/MLK) and see this scooter, please get in touch. It's not covered by our renter's insurance and Matt only had liability on it, not theft, so we won't be reimbursed for this.

We were leaving the house this morning to go look at a property and I just saw the crumpled-up tarps and motorcycle covers that had covered the scoot. The worst disappointment isn't that we aren't covered for this loss, it's more that there was a huge sentimental value for this ride because it reminds us both of the first few months we met and started our relationship. Though we hadn't been riding on it lately, we both have fond memories of meeting each other and falling in love on the back of this thing. I feel so violated that some fucking piece of shit came and took this away. I hope they rot in hell.

2007-04-02T10:55:00.000-07:00

Under the Donut Tree.

Here is the newest print from our lovely kitchen-located studio. I'd had the pencils about half done on this one for the last two months or so, but on Sunday I just sat down and worked on it, and all day yesterday. It took quite a while, as this mother was about 18" by 13" and I hardly ever work that large, but it was worth it. Matt will be printing it today and I hope we can mix up the right colors - I want it to look like a children's book from the 30's.

We had plans to look at a condo this morning. I figured it would be a nice one to check out, since it had been on the market for a few weeks and the pressure would be lower. It sold last night. I'm getting to the point where I think I might have to take a little mental break from thinking about houses because it's severely affecting my moods. It's all I think about, and I usually end up completely or half-crying like a baby wherever I am (at home, out in public, on my bike). It's a lot harder than I thought it would be. I see a place listed and I imagine what I could do to it, what life would be like there. Then it sells and I have to drop all thoughts of it. I gotta stop for a little while. Maybe focus on some real problems, ha.

This is my hundredth blog post, by the way. Viva la Grindstone!

2007-03-30T15:06:00.000-07:00

The Enchanted Stag.

I finished this short story up for the Indie Spinner Rack anthology. Whaddaya think? It only took about a week or so, and I wanted to do something that had a lot of lush natural scenes, since those were my favorite scenes to draw in Ivy so far (though those are also the most time-consuming). I've always enjoyed drawing animals as well, and throwing in a bountiful lass didn't hurt either.

It's been extra hard to sit down and ink these days, since the weather took such a turn for the beautiful - and while I can pencil in the park and the coffee shops, I don't feel as comfortable bringing my bottle and brushes out with me into the world. Shaky tables and windy gusts don't make for a very steady line. I've also picked up half a dozen graphic novels from the unbelievable, outstanding Multnomah County library - word, MultCoLib NoPo branch, you rock! - and I've been pleasantly occupied with Black and White, Banana Sunday, No Dead Time, and a bunch of others, the best of which is Death Note by Obata and Ohba. I haven't gotten into much manga lately, since most of it is just god-awfully misogynist, but I can recommend this one. There aren't many women in it at all, but the two main characters play off each other in a fairly non-violent, very psychological cat-and-mouse game that is absorbing and thoughtful. It's great, and the art is great. Plus, I polished off the latest two volumes of One Piece (#43 and 44, since I'm reading the Japanese versions), and I swear to god, the last one made me cry. And it's not usually a very emotional series, tending more toward humor and action, but this melodramatic plot turn really sucked me in. It's one of the only manga that makes me laugh out loud from the visuals alone.

I have been a bit over-emotional lately, because our house hunt isn't going well. Any house under $200K sells within days or hours of being placed on the market. A house we offered $15K more than its asking price sold for so much more than that, we were its third highest bidders. A farmhouse we loved listed for $240K sold for $5K more than that, paid in cash. I've altered my list of desired features over and over, lowering my standards and abandoning the guidelines that made me even want to own a house in the first place, and still there is nothing. I've become very sensitive to the mere idea of wealth. If you fuckers can afford to throw down a quarter-mil in cash, buy a big house. Buy a six-bedroom in Irvington. Leave the little 2-bedroom, hundred-year-old shacks to the rest of us, because they are the only places we can afford. I know you're just going to put some douche students in there for a year or two while your crews roll out there and replace linoleum with tile, toss down some flagstones in the backyard and then resell the place in a year's time with fifty grand more in your inflated pockets to show for your trouble, but I just want a place to live. Where the hell are these people coming from? And why must they scoop away the few places I could (barely) afford? I'm losing hope by the day.

Best not to think of these things. I do have some good news - Matt and I are showing some art prints in City Hall this month, with a big free-beer-and-music bash First Thursday evening. We visited Polly Birge in Commissioner Sam Adams' office on Tuesday, and she was so optimistic and positive about the arts scene here in Portland. City Hall itself is just an amazing beauty of a building, restored to its pre-70's-"remodeled" state - open staircases, marble and filigree, glass elevators - and we have space to put up about half a dozen prints and comics, plus a table to sell things during that night. Please come if you are in town - it's worth it in itself to see this building, if you haven't before. Mayor Tom Potter walked by and said hello while we were viewing the exhibition space, a nice touch. After a crappy day spent in jury duty (where this strongly-B.O.'ed punk dude coughed on me and got me sick), it was good to see the other side of local government.

2007-03-16T12:57:00.000-07:00

Baby Pictures.

My sister sent me some shots from her phone, so I can finally share some nephew goodness with y'all.

These are both taken during Isaac's first day or two. I can see a lot of Oleksyk in his mouth and head shape.

Emily and Isaac. Good work, kid.

Isaac and his daddy, Bryan.

So the good news is that I booked a ticket into Boston for June 19th, which will allow me to take a whirlwind tour through Providence, down to New York for the MoCCA Festival over the weekend, and up to Maine before heading back home on the 27th. I won't get more than a few nights in any given town, but I'll get to meet Isaac (and his dad) for the first time, see all my friends, and shmooze it up at the Fest all in one crazy week. Get ready, New England, your estranged daughter is returning and ready to do some serious party damage. Also on my festival docket is the Alternative Press Expo next month, so all you crazy San Fran kiddos, prepare thyselves for my company. The fest is the best!