Deep in the Heart of Texas!

Well, that time has rolled around again! I'm with our little crew of miscreants (which includes my husband Rob this year, yeeehaw!) at the State Fair of Texas. The largest state fair in the world! Because that's how they roll in Texas. 

Oh shit. Oh shitty mcFucking shit. BREAKING NEWS has just wiped away all other little silly tidbits I was going to share with you, gentle readers. 

Of all the things I worried about that could put a damper on a State Fair, this wasn't even close to being on my radar. 

Fucking ebola. 

The first diagnosed case in the US and it's here. We got back to the camper tonight and watched the news, finding out (with increasing uneasiness) that ebola had been confirmed IN TEXAS. Then as the story unfolded, the newscaster mentioned it was North Texas... Then... DALLAS. Oh crap. 

Now, understand that my unease here actually has nothing to do with my fear of catching this virus. I have read enough to know that as long as I don't go exchanging bodily fluids with infected folks, I'll moooost likely be fine. Rather, my worry (and the worry of my campermates) is for our bottom line. 

At the risk of stereotyping an entire state, um... Texas has not been known for the level-headedness or scientific acumen of its general populace. (Curse you, shitty school boards and alternative science textbooks!) Pretty much all of America is wrapped up in ebola hysterics right now--and now Dallas is the flashpoint. We sat in our little camper, eating candy by the handful and watching as the news went on and on and on and on about the disease. It was literally the entire half-hour of news tonight. (Er, yesterday night--as I write this, we are nearing midnight and it will be Wednesday.)

Rain on a Saturday is a bummer. Rain over an entire weekend really sucks. But this? This is unprecedanted. Who knows what it will do to fair attendance? My coworker Vlad said his numbers were down by 30% the year thay swine flu was dominating the news. 

I'll bet the Fair management is really wringing hands right now. Maybe they will be showing up on local news or blasting commercials to assure people it's safe to come out to the fairgrounds. 

Me? I think I'll go to sleep and wake up tomorrow then see what happens. Sigh. At least we had a really stellar opening weekend. And if the rest of the fair is less than fair--well, that gives me more time to write haikus. 

Caricature haiku #5

Supressing your smile

makes you look like a muppet

with a fist inside.

Caricaturing for Uncle Sam

That time between starting a drawing job and "the big reveal" can seem excruciatingly long--and with most live drawings it's only a matter of minutes. In this case, it's six years. 

It all started in early 2008, when I got an email from a potential client who wanted to know if I could work from photos. Well, yeah, of course. He further explained that he would like to commission a few dozen black and white caricatures, suitable for reproduction, for a project. Well, that set off my reproduction rights radar and I asked about what sort of project, how many copies, etc. etc. 

Some clients get vague when I ask details like this--they are either trying to get a bargain basement price, or they really don't have much of an idea themselves. This fellow, to my surprise, bypassed vague and simply answered in the negative. No, he could not tell me anything about the project. And I would not be at liberty to publicize it. He said he worked with the government and then he asked if I would be all right working from very bad photos, some of them of corpses. 

Well, this was turning into an interesting little email exchange. I learned that the people I would be drawing were warlords in Afghanistan. Maybe "warlords" isn't the right word. "Power players" might be more apt, definitely more politically correct. My initial (overblown) fears that this job might get a Fatwa put out on me were assuaged as he explained that the drawings would not be anything that would ever endanger my life in any way. This was, remember, around the time that Danish cartoonist was in fear for his life after drawing a controversial image of Mohammed. 

We struck a deal, and he began sending me photos of the subjects--often along with color commentary about their personalities, the regional clothing or hats they were wearing, and whether I should emphasize the mean look in their eye or instead focus on the playful expression they had in another photo. And yes, a couple of them were really awful, fuzzy photos and a few were post-mortem. I did my best. My contact was very supportive, telling me when I was going in the right direction and, overall, he was happy with the results. 

Then, much more recently, he emailed to tell me that the work he had done in Afghanistan was amping down as the situation there got less tense, and so he was able to talk openly about what the caricatures were used for. And, likewise, I am now allowed to post a few on this blog. He also kindly answered a few questions, which I am publishing below . . . 

1. Can you describe what the caricatures were used for?

Certainly! The caricatures that I engaged you to do were personalities that were already controversial public figures. Their affiliations were well socialized in the media. The caricatures you provided were chosen and designed to aid in illuminating the Afghanistan problem for folks tasked with bringing stability to the region.  Specifically, the caricatures continue to serve a three-fold purpose. Firstly,  they have been used to develop a baseline knowledge of the major power-brokers in the Afghanistan region. Secondly, they have been incorporated into a board game as a training tool (not commercially marketed at this time) that incorporated aspects of intent and agendas of these figures. Lastly, they will serve as a legacy to those who dedicated much time and energy into Afghanistan and especially those whose sacrifice was great.

When 911 enveloped our nation and the world in a dark and angry fervor, our best military minds and the brightest in the Intelligence Community were stymied by the concept of the War on Terror that was about to be waged. Thrust into a scenario that modern warfare had left behind by half a century in the remote country of Afghanistan, all the sophistication that the western civilized world could bring to bear proved to be an utter mismatch for the challenges that lay ahead.

It quickly became apparent that planning to "win" in Afghanistan was a far more complex proposition than one could imagine. There was no overarching doctrine to embrace or exploit. The local rules of engagement were varied, archaic, and involved concepts beyond what most westerners could grasp.

It became evident that--as with meeting with success in any conflict--that an eventual hearts and minds campaign would be essential. To do so, the world had to understand Afghan motivation and thinking. Only then could a lasting peace be created after two decades of constant war. To do so meant becoming knowledgeable on tribal dynamics, local interpretations of Islam and fundamentals of Afghan politics, custom, and culture.

Kept for many years among limited numbers who have been working behind the scenes to make Afghanistan a better place, these caricatures which greatly aided as avenues to insight into the Gordian Knot that is Afghanistan can now be shared as part of this blog portfolio.

2. Why did you consider caricatures for this project?

Each of these power brokers in Southwest Asia--ally, enemy and in-between--had huge personalities. They were political as well as militant. Some went on to take positions in the current Afghan government. Some are still waging war or jockeying for power. Some have since been killed in combat or assassinated. Their personal histories were each audacious, outrageous, arguably larger than life. In the truest sense of political satire cartoons universal to publications around the world, each were prime to be immortalized in caricature!

As the Taliban leadership had chosen to side with Usama Bin Laden, the anti-Taliban forces of the Northern Alliance instantly became allies to the west. They were intimately familiar with Afghanistan's rugged terrain. They knew when horses were preferable to tanks, and when donkeys were preferable to horses. 

But, each of these Northern Alliance leaders (soon to be re-dubbed warlords) had individual agendas. Each were power brokers in their own right. Each were accustomed to employing brutal means to an end. To keep these individuals from reverting to infighting, they had to be understood. 

3. Was there any worry (from you or others) that caricatured likenesses might be seen as offensive by the culture or individuals at hand?

There is always concern when cross-cultural references are made--especially in cartoons. Knowing how sharable and popular caricatures tend to be, I did seek consultation. No one thought that any mayhem would ensue. I have been prepared to address any issues. Likewise, if your role as a caricature artist comes under fire, you can honestly say that I never told you the identities of the persons you were sketching at the time. Or since, you now know (years later) who they are/were, you are empowered to field any inquiries yourself.  

Culturally speaking, only one caricature was remotely religious in nature.  The purely fictitious Mullah Nasruddin serves as the foundation of much of Southwest Asian humor.  No believable chance of crossing any redlines there.  As far as the Northern Alliance personalities, outside of complaints based on vanity, risk is/was low.  As for the adversarial opposition figures, of the many "western" acts that they would deem offensive, we assessed caricatures to be quite far down on the list.

4. How did the target audience respond to the game, and the images? Did caricatures work better than photographs for your purposes?

Reactions have been unanimously positive. Many, if not most, have been gamers to some degree or another, so it was not a difficult sell. After all, the term "The Great Game" was coined in the 1800's by Authur Conolly, an intelligence officer in the British East India Company's Sixth Bengal Light Calvary and popularized in Rudyard Kipling's novel, Kim (1901) to describe the conflict between the British and Russian empires for supremacy of Central and South Asia. It was only natural to capture many of the same dynamics in the same region in an actual game depicted in recent times. Caricatures tend to add much more dimension to persons of interest than photos.  Captured in a genre akin to political cartoons, caricatures tend to emphasize the interactive social aspects of these characters. My aim was to impart a better understanding of the nature of the power networks in Afghanistan, how influence works, and to provoke thought about how actions taken in Afghanistan would have secondary and tertiary effects on these networks and influence. With this in mind, caricatures were preferable.

I thank him for kindly taking the time to shed so much light on what the drawings were used for, and painting a picture of the challenges he and his colleagues faced in understanding and communicating such a complicated array of forces and intents. 

Some of the inked originals, including "Mullah Nasruddin," a character who
(along with his donkey) is the source of many jokes in the region. I also learned
about different hats worn in Afghanistan, not just turbans but pakols and kufis.

Sometimes, at the booth, when I draw soldiers, I thank them for their service and jokingly say "Thank you for serving--because I would be terrible at it. What could I do, draw funny pictures and throw them at the enemy?" It always gets a chuckle. But it does also take my mind to this particular assignment, which is probably the only time I'll get to feel patriotic because of having drawn funny pictures. It's a good feeling. A danger in this business is feeling like none of your work matters, like it's all fluff, and you're not really contributing to humanity in any meaningful way (this is an overwhelming feeling when you've just worked a party full of toddlers or drawn a very drunk party girl who can barely remember how to open her purse to pay you). But this one, I'll hold onto this one for a good while. 

While I'm at it, I should also point out the tremendous work that the National Cartoonists Society does with the overseas troops year after year. I have gotten to read all about the USO trips Tom Richmond, Ed Steckley, and many others have taken in order to spread some good humor to the men and women serving abroad. The pen may not actually be mightier than the sword, but it can be put to good use! Have fun drawing, and remember, you never know how important your next project will be.  

Star Trekkin!

Every once in a while a gig comes along that makes me wish I could grab a time machine to go tell my 13-year-old self what was going to happen someday--because she would fah-reak. This past weekend was definitely one of those.

The Black n' Blue Jay, circa Spring 1991.

Rewind to my childhood . . . Every day after middle school, I would throw my backpack on my bed, flip on channel five, and decompress from school to a classic Star Trek episode. I saw each and every episode multiple times and came to really love the characters and the message of the show. When the movies came out, I was still a kid--and Ricardo Montalbon scared the hell out of me by sticking those ear worms in Checkov's helmet in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Star Trek III enthralled me, and IV made me laugh my guts out. When the Next Generation premiered, I was all aquiver. While working as the cartoonist for my university's humor magazine, I drew up a MAD-style parody about campus life featuring the cast of the then-still-running Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was not great. But what I lacked in skill I made up for with fangirl love and knowledge of the canon.

Despite my piles of memorabilia, my phaser squirt guns, my Spock clock, my Star Trek coffee mug collection, and the several Trek shirts in my closet, I had never actually attended a Star Trek convention. I had, however, hovered on the periphery several years in a row. Enough to get familiarized with fan culture and realize they aren't quite like the rest of humanity--and I mean that in a good way! Trek fans are typically science-minded optimists who see the great potential of the human race. They are kind, they are smart, they are accepting, and they are awesome. I knew some folks who worked at the Star Trek Experience at the Hilton (open from 1998-2008), and they got my boss Doug and several Trek-loving coworkers to set up a temporary caricature booth near Quark's Bar during the week of the convention. Needless to say, the population of souvenir-hunting trekkies exploded during that week, and we did a brisk business. During the Experience's closing ceremonies, we were there too, shedding a few tears with the cast and crew and drowning our sorrows in Romulan ale.

Roger supervising the maiden voyage of his balloon
starship Enterprise.

So when I got a query a few months ago from a representative of the company that puts on the huge international Star Trek Convention (now at the Rio Hotel & Casino), I had to pinch myself. We chatted and I was booked, making me pinch myself several more times. The rep also mentioned he wanted a balloon twister and henna artist and asked if I knew anyone I could recommend. And while I work with some great agencies and I do have a little stack of cards from fellow party performers, two individuals jumped to mind immediately. The convention organizers wanted people who were fans, so that they could better interact with the fans there. And above anything else, my goal is to fit the performer to the client's needs. And boy did I choose correctly. My pal Danya Cornelius, who has been doing henna for years in the local fire performer and bellydance community, was actually watching Star Trek when she got my text asking her about her availability. And Roger "the Balloon Wizard" not only had a Trek uniform on hand, he had them for original series and Next Gen!

Dun dun DUN DUN DUN
DUN DUN dun dun DUN DUN,
 dun-DUN dun-DUN dun-DUN . . .

During the con, Roger wowed the crowd with some giant balloon Enterprise sculptures, complete with whirring lights in the nacelles and hull (which became quite the popular photo op), as well as smaller renditions of vulcan ears, starship hats, and adorable little Orion slave girls. Meanwhile, Danya and her helper Heidi squirted out henna insignias for command, science, and and engineering officers, which she got down to mere seconds of application time. The Klingon symbol and Mirror-Mirror universe symbol were also popular, and she came up with dozens of customized fusion designs that patrons absolutely loved. The henna girls became a photo op all to themselves, as Danya used this opportunity to buy a (totally tax-write-offable) custom Uhura red uniform, and Heidi wore her blue uniform, and they both put in amazing tribal hair extensions that made them quite a stellar pair of babes to behold!

For the first few days I went with basic black and rotated my collection of Star Trek ties (yeah yeah, I collect Star Trek ties AND Star Trek coffee mugs, don't judge me, I can stop WHENEVER I WANT). Anyway, I got plenty of compliments on the ties,  and during our off-hours the henna ladies and I ran around the place and got a few photo ops here and there.

Move over, Mudd's women!

Meanwhile, a parade of costumes went by us all day, every day, culminating in Saturday's costume contest. Many were expertly sewn, custom copies of those seen on some episode or movie. Some were quirky takes on a theme or a character mash-up. A few were hilarious, a few were sexy. All of them showed dedication and love and creativity. Some group costumes wandered by, like the "Spanish Inquisition" trekkies, which except for their communicator badges could have walked off a Monty Python set; or the "red shirt casualty zombies," which is kind of self-explanatory; or the superbly costumed Next Gen band of merry men from the Robin Hood holodeck episode, each of whom had an uncanny resemblance to their counterpart in the show. There was a "dude" trekkie who was a carbon copy of Jeff Bridges' character except his slouchy robe was of a Star Trek design. There was a Ferengi couple who went in traditional Ferengi attire--meaning the female was "nude," as Ferengi believe it is vulgar to allow women to wear clothing. And I cannot even count the number of Star Trek kilts and corsets fans walked around in.

There was a tie for first place; winners (pictured lower right in the collage above) included an intricate Borg couple and a clever dual puppetry costume representing the two alien personas of "The Corbomite Maneuver"--the frightening blue-green false dummy Balok uses to frighten the Enterprise crew and then, underneath it, the childlike true appearance of Balok (played in the original series by a very young Clint Howard), complete with a little cup of "tranya," his favorite beverage. The contest was judged by a panel of actual Trek costume designers and makeup artists, and rather than splitting the $1,000 best-in-show prize, the panel decided to award both winners the full amount.

While I was off duty, I was also able to duck into some of the panels and celebrity talks. Kate Mulgrew waxed philosophically about life after Trek and received kudos for her emmy nomination on Orange Is the New Black, Simon Pegg delighted the crowd with his humble charm, and Harlon Ellison talked about not getting along with studio executives during his stint writing for the original series.

My favorite science officer.

And I caught sight of a familiar face--er, a familiar hairdo, anyway. A young engineer and flight team leader who became dubbed "The Mohawk Guy" after his appearances all over the internet in 2012 as NASA landed the Mars rover Curiosity was walking around the convention hall! Bobak Ferdowsi is a trekkie, it turns out, and he was participating in some of the science panels . . . yes, at this sci-fi convention, they have speakers that also talk about science fact! Bobak was delightful, and he even posed for a picture with me, but alas, I had to race out of his panel halfway through because it was time for me to set up. Right as they were getting to the asteroid-mining projects, dang it. But as a consolation, a couple of days later he showed up right by my drawing station and ended up getting filmed by a TV crew with me in the background! It took a lot of willpower for me to focus on my drawing during that time. I have yet to see the footage, but if anyone comes across it please send me a link! Aging celebrity extras from the original series are exciting--but NASA guys who land giant robots on Mars impress me more. Swoooon . . .

The orchestra got a well-deserved standing ovation, and Rachel and I got to
bask in all the trekkieness!

Saturday night I hung around extra late to catch the Las Vegas Pops 45-piece orchestra play a variety of songs from the TV shows and movies. Hearing the scores played live, in that setting, was really a unique experience. Talk about classing up the joint. The concert opened and closed with music from the new J. J. Abrams movies, and those pieces really are powerful. Not only were we treated to a fantastic concert of really moving orchestral music, along with the conductor's commentary about how intricate and innovative some of the original music was when it debuted in the 1960s, but I also got to hear the world premiere of an original piece composed and guest-conducted by Ron Jones (who composed the music for ST:TNG as well as about a zillion other TV shows). Then I got to hang out with my old high-school pal Rachel Julian, who was lead percussionist for that concert! Vegas is a small world--and arts in Vegas is an even smaller world. She was tickled to play this event because her specialty is the marimba, so she got to whack out those signature tones that start every episode of the original series. The whole orchestra only had 3 hours to rehearse all the material, and they knocked it out of the park--true professionals.

I pre-drew eight uniformed poses that trekkies could choose from: the
client specified that they wanted male and female bodies for each of the
major subsets: TOS, Next Gen, and the newer reboots.

With all this going on, you'd think I didn't draw a darn thing while I was there. Not true. I set up my monitor and printers and offered fans free digital caricatures as part of the "gauntlet of cool free stuff" along the main hall. And people really dug 'em. Maybe a little too much. I was BUSY. And, just from the exhilaration of the environment, and cool people, I managed to haul butt and draw well over a hundred and twenty faces over my four-day mission. And I didn't take a single bathroom break!

I also jumped directly into the fray and wore MY Star Trek costume on the last day. A seamstress friend had sewn me a neat retro-looking Trek skirt that I later embellished with a felt Enterprise and string of sequins to make it into a trekked-out version of a poodle skirt. Paired with some saddle shoes and a matching shirt, it made for a neat little outfit that fetched many compliments.

Now, as I said, trekkies are not like the rest of humanity. As an example, let me just tell you that NOT ONCE did anyone come up to me and say "aw, can't you do just one more" after the line was cut off. Not a single person. Over four days, not one! Rather, they politely asked what time I would start the next day, or told me they loved the work and hoped I'd be there next year too. Nor did a single person complain about how long they had waited. Not one. And these folks were waiting sometimes two hours or longer! Sci-fi conventioneers respect the rules, they know how to create an orderly line, they wait patiently once they commit to waiting, they police themselves well, and they do it cheerfully.  They all get along. It's amazing to behold. Conversations and friendships were struck up between strangers as they waited behind me for their turn.

This was the line I saw, for caricatures, as I walked in about
forty-five minutes before my start time on Sunday. Holy cow,
I started worrying people mistakenly thought Nimoy would
be drawing them or something.

So, feeling all this trekkerly love, I bent some serious rules and extended way more trust than I normally would give to a crowd of people. And my trust did pay off. For instance, I would NEVER ever ever hand out numbers and then tell people to just wander off if they wanted too. But I ended up doing that the last day. Cranking eight- to nine-minute color digital drawings meant I could maybe do thirty or so during my four-hour shift. On Sunday, I arrived to set up and found a line of 28 people already awaiting me; some had gotten there an hour ahead of time determined to get drawn. So I wrote out numbers and explained to the crowd that they could wander IF they cleared it with line buddies so that I always had someone waiting to draw and some semblance of a line. Because, I warned them, if everyone left and then all showed back up during my last ten minutes, we would have chaos. So they'd need to cooperate.

This would not work with bankers, lawyers, wedding guests, high school kids, teachers, or most any other group. It totally worked with trekkies. No one wandered back late and played dumb. No one yanked on my shoulder to ask what number was next or what time they should return; they all self-managed and checked in with one another. There were ZERO line disputes, ZERO complaints about how long anyone had waited, and ZERO breakdowns in line progress. I had a steady stream of folks with numbers, and they happily--and sometimes smugly--told others that my line was closed. It was wonderful! I think they have spoiled me for all other crowds.

I rewarded their awesomeness by taking more time than I usually did with drawings. Which gave me mixed feelings. The eternal question for all live caricature artists--is it better to deliver a fast product or a fine-tuned product? They were very patient, and so I was leaning more toward detailed stuff in each drawing. But it's amazing how time adds up. If you take an extra minute on each drawing, and you've given out thirty numbers, BAM, you're working an extra half-hour for no pay. Which did happen to me, but for once I didn't sweat it at all. It was a very diverse crowd. I drew folks from several different countries, I drew kids, I drew seniors, and I drew quite a few disabled folks. If someone needed an extra couple of minutes, I did not mind at all. 

Ah, to be young and Klingon . . .

One guy did ask for a special favor, actually. And it threw me for a second. This gentleman walked over and said "Is there any way I could make an appointment? I have walked by several times and your work is amazing!" I explained that I had already closed the line, sorry, and he sighed and said he'd been too busy speaking on panels. Saywhatnow? He said, in the politest way possible "I'm the guy who wrote that tribble episode. And I hate to ask for a special favor because of that, but if there's any way you could work me in . .  ." Now actors have recognizeable faces, but I had no idea what writers looked like. And "The Trouble with Tribbles" is THE fan favorite episode from the original series, it's quite famous, and this fellow looked a little young to have written it nearly fifty years ago. Was he lying to me? Lying would be so out of character for trekkies. I looked up at some of the trekkies nearby, a flash of confusion on my face, needing an answer from them. They were silently nodding their heads vigorously, eyes wide and mouths slightly open, and one of them whispered "Oh my god DO IT."

Thanks to photoshop, it looks like I was printing
out 11 x 17 for writer David Gerrold . . . nope, just
 special effects folks!

Yep, this guy was genuine. His name was David Gerrold, I later found out, and he had indeed been running from panel to panel and busy with press interviews and such. I told him to come back at 5. He did stop back right on time, with plenty of kind words for me--he said he "never gets these done" but was so impressed with my likenesses. I told him he was already in the chair, no need to butter me up! For the next nine or ten minutes I got to have a fascinating conversation about what it was like for him, writing in Hollywood at the age of 19 during the dawn of the hour-long teledrama. I also got to hear about his involvement in "Trials and Tribble-ations," the clever tribble-themed retro episode of Deep Space Nine . . . and he even let me in on some private trek gossip that I shall take to my grave! I have said before that one of my favorite things about this job is it gives us face time with some of the most interesting people in the world. Boy howdy, this qualified.

So now I rest. Between the two enormous conventions I attended in the past two weeks, I am really bushwhackered. Oh yeah, last week I went to San Diego for that OTHER huge convention. I'll try to write about that next time.

Until next week, keep on trekkin' everybody!

How to Be a Rookie

The retail operation where I sometimes grab shifts is now welcoming a handful of rookies onto the roster. As a result, I find myself proffering some hints and lessons here and there.

Which takes me back to when I was a rookie (and believe me, I feel like I'm a rookie on a regular basis--this is not a job where you learn everything in the first week and then never pay attention again).

Unlike other professions that take on apprentices formally, with guidelines, caricature operations really vary. Some folks have to adhere very specifically to a house style and medium, while at other places it's a free-for-all. But there's a certain set of unwritten rules in this business when it comes to learning the craft as a newbie. I decided to write them down.

1. Be Nice.

I don't mean "draw nice." I mean BE nice. There always seems to be one or two folks a year who show up and think they already know it all. Invariably, they don't. Nor will they learn. Be nice to your fellow newbies, your new boss, and any other seasoned artists who are there. These folks will be key to your learning process over the next months or years, and they will also help you earn an income.

2. Be Humble. 

You aren't as good as you think you are. If the first sentence out of a potential new hire's mouth is something about how awesome and talented they are, I steel myself for what their work is going to look like. It's usually awful because they have invested more time in self-worship than self-improvement. Most everyone who actually gets good at this is constantly self-critical. In order to get better, you need to be able to tell where you went wrong, and the ability to see that much is a key ingredient in a caricature artist. If someone cannot see flaws in their own work, it's usually a sign they don't have that power of observation. The flip-side of this is that if you ARE overly self-critical, take a breath and realize that it doesn't necessarily mean you suck . . . it means you have the ability to see where you could use improvement. That's the ticket right there.

3. Be Observant.

Before you even officially hire on, you should show up and watch each established caricaturist work for at least an hour or two. This was the first assignment I ever had as a rookie with Quickdraw. Even if you show up to observe and there's no business, chances are the artist will show you a few tips and tricks and you can ask questions. For the first year, whenever the artist next to you is drawing you should be watching.

4. Be Grateful.

There's an attitude I have come across lately, online and in person, of "I deserve to be an artist--because REASONS!" The universe does not owe you an audience or a living. Someone I know (only peripherally) recently griped "I just want a fun, creative job in the arts that can pay my bills, is that too much to ask??" Well, in a word, yes! We are phenomenally lucky to live in today's age, where we non-royals don't have to spend dawn till dusk subsistence farming in order to live. So we have some leisure time. And that's getting spent consuming creative arts, so much so that people start thinking that's all there is to life. Then they believe that it's logical that they, too, should be gainfully employed making content. Not everyone can, not everyone should, but believe me it seems like EVERYONE IS TRYING. Quite frankly, our country might be better off if folks got this determined to be a really good vacuum repair person, or shoemaker, or botanist, or tailor--the "sciences and useful arts" as our Constitution puts it. The people lucky enough to make a living in a creative field, even one as varied and "carny" as caricature, are in it because of dedication, practice, and maybe a little insanity. That's what it takes to rise above the background hum of a few million aspiring doodlers. If you get a chance to be one of them, remember there are a million people who would trade places with you. Don't ever gripe about the fame and fortune you don't have. Draw the face in front of you and learn from it. And be glad you aren't subsistence farming.

5. Be Open to Learning--from Everyone.

You will likely hire on to a crew with decent artists, great artists, and maybe a couple lousy ones too. The lousy ones will have their good days, and the great ones will have their bad days. You can learn from all of them. You might see someone put a few bad lines on a drawing and start thinking that you're better than one (or all) of them and they have nothing to teach you. This is the day you will stop learning, and it is the road to being a lousy artist.

6. Be Trustworthy.

Nothing gets a person fired quicker than stealing. And yet I have seen folks try it time and time again in this business. Skimming off the profits seems easy, or victimless, to some artists--but the victim will be you in the long run. Pocketing the entire payment for a color double might mean an extra $15 or $20 for your take-home pay, but remember what it will cost you in the long run. Once someone notices a thief, word gets around. Maybe they get fired immediately, maybe there's a grace period but eventually the thief is let go. That reputation follows a person, and this is a small community. Fellow artists won't keep thievery a secret--they have a vested interest in seeing the booth pay its rent. And reputations follow you. When you want to work at an operation across the country, that might be cut short with just a few words, like "Oh I remember that guy. He got let go for stealing."

7. Be Resilient. 

No one is perfect at this. And no one gets great customer reactions 100% of the time. Be prepared for rejects, and deal with them in a mature way when they arise. Take a break, walk it off, and face the next customer with all the effort and optimism you can muster. If a jerky customer or hen-pecking grandma rattles you enough to ruin your entire day, this might not be the best job for you. 

8. Be Brave.

I have seen some artists get gun-shy and avoid working with one of the really seasoned crowd favorites because they feel inadequate, or a bit jealous. "I hate working with that guy! He's so fast and the crowd loves him, it makes me feel like chopped liver." Well guess what? You will always, always, always make more money per shift working next to an artist that is more dynamic and better than you. Because their work generates interest that will lead to more butts in YOUR chair too. You might not beat their total, but you will benefit. And sitting next to them is an ongoing learning opportunity. You only rise to the level of those you surround yourself with. Aim high, and don't let a fragile ego hold you back. 

Good luck!

The Fallacies that House Built

First, a disclaimer: I am not a doctor and I am not giving medical advice. I'm more of a couch potato giving advice on how to watch TV.

What the hell does being a doctor, or watching TV, have to do with a caricature blog, you ask? Well, Hugh Laurie has an awesome face. I played around with it and did a quick digital doodle of him, but I'm not quite satisfied yet. I'll be drawing him at least a few times more. Rich features and bone structure there. You can see his young face (and native accent) on Laurie & Fry, an old British comedy also available on Netflix instant, for any of you who want something Monty Python flavored but who have memorized all of Flying Circus already.

House has long been on my list of things to check out. Dr. Gregory House is based on Sherlock Holmes, as Baker Street fans already know, which makes for some quirky dialogue and fun relationship friction . . . and every now and again a direct reference makes its way into the show. Doctor Wilson (who is the de facto Watson of the show) at one point talks about "hearing zebras instead of horses," and then in a later episode tells a group of doctors a lengthy lie about "Irene Adler," some woman whom he claimed House was infatuated with. And instead of a solution of cocaine, or the occasional bit of morphine that the original Holmes indulged in, Dr. House is hooked on vicodin and sometimes other, stronger pain-killers.

Netflix has all the seasons available on the instant download, and I found them perfect for what I needed. See, I recently took on a huge pile of commission work and it drives me bananas to not have something in the background as I draw. Some find that distracting, and I would never recommend it if one is doing something verbal-based (for instance, I can't watch TV and write, I need silence for that). But for repetitive actions like filling in swaths of color? I love me some podcasts, talk shows, or interesting-but-not-too-enthralling TV shows. I cannot work during really impressive shows like Game of Thrones or Walking Dead, because every frame is gold. House though? It's pithy, but for the most part predictable. While House has been trumpeted as a "skeptic" character and launched a thousand memes with snarky quotes from the show, I'm not exactly watching it with eyes glued to the screen . . . and if I really want to see the explosive bloody diarrhea that just coated the guest star's hospital bed, I can just pause and rewind.

I'm up to season 5 so far and have seen quite a bit of explosive bloody diarrhea.

The show introduces one or two medical mysteries that are resolved by the end of the episode (think Law & Order, but with doctors), and so it's no surprise the scripts are formulaic. But there's a sort of comfort to formula 42-minute dramas . . . Law & Order has eight hundred spinoffs for a reason. Not to mention the cool guest stars that sometimes have popped up. I got to see Jeremy Renner as a punk rocker who coughs up tons of blood, Felicia Day as an organ recipient, and Dave Matthews as a brain-damaged savant. That last episode is worth checking out just to see Hugh and Dave jam on the piano together.

But medically. Oh, ouch, medically. As I said above, I am not a doctor. But I am not a moron either.  This show gives me flashbacks to college, when I tried watching Chicago Hope with my roommate, who was working at a hospital and attending dental school. Between laughing fits, she would say "Uh, no, that doesn't happen," quite frequently. When one episode showed the transplant-harvest lab monkeys being brought down to the cancer ward so that sick kids could play with them, she near about had an aneurysm.

Paging Dr. House . . . it's 34 minutes into the episode!

House, indeed, has unrealistic medical things all over the place, and the very nature of the 42-minute-drama formula plays into the false medical information. The doctors (who should be used to seeing blood all the time, I mean, they're doctors) never seem to get really worried until that precise moment in the show, around minute 34, when a patient starts gushing blood from a particular orifice--or all of them. The writers use blood as a touchstone because of its visceral value to all human beings: most of us get panicked when we see it. So, like clockwork, the patient will become an Old Faithful of the red stuff whenever the story needs to signal viewers "okay, shit's getting real now!" Blood gushes from noses, or ears, or it gets vomited out, or comes out mouth, nose, and eyes simultaneously, or gets pooped all over the bed, or a catheter bag that should contain urine instead has--you guessed it--blood, and even once they had a doctor get wide-eyed and say "you're sweat . . . you're sweating blood!" as the camera zoomed in on little blood droplets and dramatic music crescendoed. The blood on this show has its own theme music, it's really one of the stars.

And then by minute 38, Dr. House, or his team, in conjunction with some teeny tiny clue they found while illegally breaking into the patient's home (when was the last time your doctor cared so much that he or she broke into your home?), figure out the diagnosis. And usually they save the patient. Not always, but usually. Not only that, but the out-on-a-limb nutty diagnosis is usually the right one, and House often dismisses previous doctors, who had made perfectly sound diagnoses based on the presenting symptoms, with "They're idiots." I wondered how doctors felt about the show . . . but then I remembered the internet! People post opinions on the internet! Indeed, some doctors had actually compiled a list of medical quibbles, dissecting every episode point-by-point. And you thought I was a skeptic busybody.

The Amazing Randi, who is a delight and generously gives
of his time to skeptically pose with many attendees at TAM.

Speaking of skepticism, this past weekend I was able to attend The Amazing Meeting, a yearly get-together of skeptics, science educators, and activists who seek to spread rationality and combat bunk. And, oddly enough, House came up. This year's theme was the brain, and Dr. Steven Novella, a neurologist who runs my favorite weekly podcast, The Skeptic's Guide to the Universe, mentioned the show and how it has changed the assumptions of some patients who come to see him. Dr. Novella told the crowd about a patient that had presented with a laundry list of what are typically referred to as "non-specific symptoms." Fatigue, headaches, soreness, and so on. She had been to some other specialists but none had found anything wrong, so she was now getting an MRI. When he went over the results with her and said there was nothing abnormal in the MRI, she started crying. Not crying in relief, just crying, agonized that there was nothing visibly wrong.

He said he's been seeing more and more of this type of reaction, and he has termed it the "Dr. House Effect." Patients have taken the House formula to heart: on that show, they run test after test, and the victorious moment comes when the really smart doctors finally make a successful diagnosis and treat the patient, who then gets better. If they cannot beat the clock and diagnose something, well then, that patient dies. No specific diagnosis = death. That's what this poor woman was internalizing; she thought that having a normal MRI was actually bad news. Dr. Novella had to reassure her that the "normal MRI club" was definitely where she wanted to be. Having a confirmed brain tumor or neurologic defect is way worse than having some symptoms that seem mysterious because they're unexplained. And, in actuality, not every set of non-specific symptoms gets diagnosed. Nor should we expect doctors to ever be able to do that. Human bodies are terribly complex, we aren't just walking sudoku puzzles that have a specific answer if you just connect all the right numbers. In cases like this patient's, Novella said, you just prescribe some lifestyle changes (exercise, better diet), see if you can mitigate the symptoms (try some headache drugs or muscle relaxers), and clinically keep an eye on things (see them for future appointments, see if anything gets worse).

So bear this in mind the next time you get frustrated at doctors for not having a cut-and-dry explanation for exactly what might be your health issue. Many popular TV shows have contributed to reductionist thinking in America, and I think House is a good example of that. Watch enough of that type of medical drama and you start to expect that doctors are all either idiots or geniuses, and lack of diagnosis means you'll be dead by the end of the episode.

But knowing all that, I'm still anxious to see the next episode. Drs. House and Cutty are coming dangerously close to a liaison, and, even if the hospital shennanigans are pumped with bunk, they are also fun to watch. Plus I have a few more angles I want to try with a Hugh Laurie drawing.

Tribbles and Klingons and Borg, OH MY!

Andorians make the best
drinking buddies.

It may surprise you to find out I am a bit of a sci-fi geek. No, no, please hold back your astonishment. I realize I come off as sophisticated and mature, but believe it or not I squeeeeeeeee from time to time.

Well, July is usually my "play around month," as for the past few years I've managed to attend both The Amazing Meeting in early July (not really sci-fi, but still geeky fun with brainy skeptics) and then the San Diego Comic Con in late July. This year it has not just rained, it has poured fun sci-fi stuff in July. In fact, this week, almost as a harbinger of the geek celebrations to come, I finished up a Star Wars themed digital commission.

The recipient was a past client who wanted to gift it to a like-minded person who was leaving their company. The photo references were pretty awful, but I could tell the outfits, poses, and private "in" jokes were important enough to forgive a few lackluster likenesses on the background jedi. So these faces felt pretty generic, but the finished piece was a hit. I got a delighted email this morning from the client saying he had incorporated the caricature into a powerpoint presentation with Star Wars music and narration for the guy's going-away party, and it was met with rave reviews. It really is fun hearing that my work wasn't just presented to the person in a frame but also used in such a creative way for a wonderful, memorable celebration. Warms my heart.

Now, to keep with the genre but switch canons, I have been a huge Star Trek fan my entire life. I watched the series daily as a kid and own far too many Trek-related apparel and gizmos. And yes, I am putting together a fun Trek-related costume for SDCC. Just you wait. It probably won't hold a candle to Lar deSouza's epic Sailor Bacon costume, but what could?

I and fellow artists JW and Jay weren't excited at ALL
to work at the Star Trek experience. Nope, this was just a
ho-hum day at the booth. Yawn. 

Anyway, Star Trek conventions are the grandaddy of fan get-togethers. They are the gold standard (uh--gold-pressed latinum standard?) in sci-fi geekdom, and to my shame I have never actually attended one . . . I have, however, orbited on the outskirts and plied my trade. Several years back, Doug was able to get his merry band of facemakers a temporary booth at Quark's Bar in the famous Star Trek Experience during the week of the convention. I met a few celebrities, including Robert Picardo, Garrett Wang, and Bobby Clark--the dude who played the Gorn. Yep, I met the Gorn. And I got to draw him. He described the experience as simply a day's work for a day's pay, in a rubber suit. He had handlers with him and was clearly enjoying the convention experience--so nice to see that a day in a rubber suit can lead to fame among a whole culture of people decades afterward!

We had fun times drawing trekkers as green slave women, or with Borg implants (make up your own joke), Klingon forehead ridges, or with a particular class starship in the background. We named our short-lived enterprise "Facial Anomalies" (get it? enterprise? facial anomalies? Wokka wokka!) And we got to draw there for a couple years in a row, at least, before the fun all had to end.

Yes, I engaged in Ferengi foreplay in public. I do what I WANT!

Alas, the awesome Star Trek Experience closed up after ten years serving fans (1998-2008), and now even the Las Vegas Hilton has been bought and rebranded. This year, the annual Star Trek convention will be on the other side of Las Vegas, at the Rio Hotel & Casino.

And I'll be there, drawing!!!! SQUEEEEEEE!!!!!! 

I like fan conventions. I get the fan mentality. I'm a fan of quite a few shows and I have, over the years, tried to get into various conventions with the caricature angle. In college I thought I had a brilliant Mystery Science Theater 3000-inspired idea: I could draw folks on paper printed with that iconic silhouette of Tom Servo, Crow, and Joel/Mike. Alas, I sent some samples and a promo kit to MST3K, hoping to draw at the 1994 or 95 ConventioCon ExpoFest-a-Rama but never heard back. Similarly, I had inquired about working the Stargate conventions, which I happily attended as a fan in Vancouver three times. Looking back though, I was kind of glad not to be working it--I would have missed out hanging with my friends and going to all the awesome activities and meet & greets! 

But aaaaah, Star Trek. It's the first sci-fi show I really became a huge fan of, and yet technically I remain a Star Trek convention virgin. Until July 31st, anyway! The company that puts on the Stargate cons and the Trek cons, Creation Entertainment, contacted me a few months back and asked about having caricature entertainment for the main hall this year. First I listened to the voicemail about three times and danced around my bedroom like a little girl making squeaky sounds and hyperventilating. Then, after composing myself, and rationalizing why it wasn't a dastardly deed to undercut everyone else in my market, just this one time, I called them back and quoted their rep an insanely low price--and I told him why. In 2008, when I unexpectedly had to cancel my plans to go to the Vancouver Stargate con due to a death in the family, I emailed Creation Entertainment seeing if any refund was possible. It CLEARLY states on the tickets that there are no refunds, so I figured it was a lost cause. But it was a large chunk o' change, and I figured I'd try. The company emailed condolances and immediately refunded both tickets I'd bought on my credit card. It was a gesture of good will that stuck with me, at a time when every kindness really helped. They could have kept my money, legally they had every right to. But they didn't. They were awesome.  

See? Trekkies and wookies CAN get along.

Sci-fi people are good people, in my experience. 

And, so fast-forward six years to the present . . . Yeah, I booked that gig at a steep discount. Because personally doling out good karma feels GREAT, not to mention the perks! I'll be getting to draw in the main hall and hopefully rub elbows with Trek luminaries while getting a glimpse of all the fans dressed up. I might even get a chance to collect some autographs and add to my bat'leth collection. 

If you're going, let me know! I'll squeeeeeeeee you there! 

Caricature marathon gigs, I love and hate them...

Just finished a type of gig that's kind of unique to Vegas. Or at least more prevalent here than elsewhere. This is the land of giant, round-the-clock casino resorts, which employ literally thousands of workers split over three shifts.

When these resorts decide to throw an employee party, it can get complicated. Rob, Doug, and I worked a long day today for an employee-appreciation celebration and it was so much fun! But also exhausting. Honestly, this blog post will probably suck. I have no wind left in my sails today. Typing kind of hurts. I got about three hours of sleep last night because I'm really bad at making myself fall asleep early. Not the best approach to preparing for a caricature marathon that starts at sunrise.

I'm used to these gigs around December. Some of the holiday parties are crazy long, employing multiple artists over sometimes a stretch of 12 hours straight in order to give all three shifts of workers a chance to get to the event. This one was for a smaller sized Strip resort, only about eight hundred employees, so we were hired in spurts. We arrived at 6:30 am and drew for two hours, then got a long break and worked again from 11 am till 2 pm, then had a longish break again and finished up our last drawing shift at 9pm. So though it was a 14-hour day, at least it was broken up a bit. However, we were kind of trapped on property because you can't really leave and do anything substantial in a couple of hours. Going home would eat up 45 minutes each way, if traffic was cooperative, and why bother wasting the gas?

Likewise, we don't want to be too obviously on property while we are relaxing between drawing sessions--it's just bad juju to hang out too close to where the client and guests are. If you linger, you invariably invite questions from the hoi polloi: When are you going to start up again? How can I sign up to be first when you guys start? Can you start early, pretty please? Twice in the ladies' room I found myself recognized. "Hey, you're the caricature artist! When do you guys start again, will you be here tomorrow too? You're way better than those two guys working with you." (Hahahaahah! Rob and Doug probably got the exact same thing in the mens' room.) It's just more comfortable to get as far away from your target audience as possible when you're not on duty.

Luckily, this gig was happening near where Doug does tattooing part time. So we were able to sneak into the "Tattoo cabana," which happened to be vacant. A small room, but comfortable and with wifi. We killed nearly two hours in there, just chatting, and Rob caught a short nap on the tattoo chair. It was peaceful and, more important, away from all of THEM, all those people we'd been drawing and would be drawing again soon. We kept the curtains drawn, the lights dim, and just enjoyed the quiet. Rob said it felt like we were hiding from the Nazis and suggested someone start a diary.

I make it sound like we hated the people, but nothing would be farther from the truth. The drawing time wasn't bad at all. With any group of local people like that, you get to experience Vegas being a small town again. A good portion of the employees we drew were lifelong Vegas natives, and so we end up finding people who went to our same high school, or even graduated in the same class. So the chatter is always fun. Banter happens, and it's an adults-only environment where one can lapse into blue material if you also stay coy and classy about it. And on three hours' sleep I'm friggin' HILARIOUS. Or at least I think so.

Our contacts were awesome, and though there were a few bureaucratic snags (there always are when dealing with a large corporation and it's accounting department), they resolved everything in due time and made us feel really welcome. When they were unable to get us special dispensation to eat in the employee dining room, they instead handed us three comps for the nicer tavern restaurant out in the casino. It's definitely awesome working for folks in the hospitality industry!

To minimize muscle strain, all of us were using markers, which flowed with ease and stood out on the paper. I'm really loving the Crayola marker barrels filled with copic ink, and I'd made enough for all three of us to use. It was fun being between Rob's excellent structural skills and Doug's adorable, curvy linework. Both of them, being seasoned pros, took to the markers with ease. We were going at a good clip and, between the three of us, produced around 300 caricatures over the course of the day. Any feelings of awkwardness or needing to "warm up" fade after the first leg of the race, so I felt "on" for the rest of the hours. And just like some experience a runner's high, I swear there is a "caricaturist's high."

This guy. I had SUCH fun drawing this guy!

The different demographics filed in group by group, we'd spend an hour working on housekeepers, then several valets and bellhops would file in (sweating and happy to be indoors, it was 111 degrees today!). Managers, dealers, cocktail waitresses, lifeguards, front desk receptionists, I.T. folks, all took their turns. The security guards all had a great sense of humor and kept asking me to draw them "mean" or "angry." I ended up drawing one of these guys looking furious, with the Hulk in the background saying "Calm down, Hulk no like you when you're angry." I figured it would be a hit or a flop--luckily the guy loved it and laughed for a solid thirty seconds before showing it around. (Doug made fun of me for needing to do a quick Google search in order to properly draw the Hulk.) It felt like the last few drawings were breaking into new territory for me, pushing a little farther than I've been able to before. At the end of a gig like this I feel such a combination of exhaustion, giddiness, and euphoria . . . it could all be an illusion, as I said I'm crazy sleep-deprived right now, but pushing yourself to that point seems to be a way to tap into a deeper level of muscle memory and learning. I felt great.

Now I really, really, really need to sleep.