Towards the Stage VIII: A Reminiscence, a cry for help

The lights have been turned off, my dear reader. The stage has been swept free of seeds and violently destroyed vegetables, the properties struck and the actors are long since departed.

It has now been roughly a month since the last performance of Büer’s Kiss at the New Hazlett Theater, and I have to say that I am still reeling.

The show turned out so different, so much better than I ever could have imagined. The actors and technicians worked their tails off, the audiences were receptive or at least polite, and the theater staff were gracious and most effusive with their assistance.

The public reception of our little pantomime has been overwhelmingly positive: nothing but positive vibes and interest in the show and the strange fusion of art forms that we presented. David Bernabo, local musician, documentarian, and all-round Nice Man, posted a positive review of the piece as a part of his Recital project, which you can read here, among other places, which has served as a pretty decent resource.

Additionally, if you would like to see some of the show I’ve been writing about all these months, cliquez icí, svp.

I’ve not been idle since we last spoke, dear reader, oh no. Having lost my day job in the lead-up to the performance, I have been working hard on a variety of projects: one, the launch of cantocomics.com, a real and proper website with like pages and stuff; two, preparation for touring Büer’s Kiss (which, hey, chum, do you work in the Theatre? Holler at me (cantocomics at Gmail)); three, arranging a small performance and installation at the Urban Arts Space in Columbus (SATURDAY!!); four, grant closeout stuff, which is its own immense undertaking; and five, wedding preparations (see below).

Now, I find myself facing down the next step in the year’s travails: getting married to my beloved Sophie!!

Those of you who are married will know what a huge project marriage is, and what an expensive proposition the Big Day happens to be. For this reason, as well as the fact of my unemployment mentioned above, Sophie and I are running an art sale in attempt to alleviate some of the expenses accrued in these preparations.

There are over 200 reasonably priced pieces of original art on sale, both from my ouevre and my beloved’s, and I hope at least one of them will be enticing enough for you to purchase from us.

These pages from The Black Dog and the Hole at the Heart of the World measure 9×12″ and are handsomely matted on black matboard, ideal for framing.

ANY AND ALL OF THOSE CAN BE YOURS, MY GOOD CHAP, AND NONE OF THEM ARE OVER $100 IN PRICE

I will attempt to update you on wedding progress as it unfolds, my lovely, but as you know, my time management skills are not the greatest and weddings are HARD AF.

Ryan, ever in character.

Meantime, please do watch that preview on the YouTube, read David’s review, and please, if you’ve ever enjoyed my comics output, consider buying some of my or Sophie’s original pages! It’ll help us a lot.

Thank you for having come on this journey with me, dear reader, and I hope you will accompany me on the road ahead.

Until next time, my friend.

Rejected Vows, pt 1: Voltron

My younger brother Eric did me the great honor last month of not only choosing me as his best man, but having me officiate his wedding ceremony. I’m proud of the kid.

That’s him on the left there, next to his patient and lovely bride.

The hardest part about this was writing an Officiant’s speech that gave the occasion its proper respect. Not that I don’t respect my brother, but yo, it’s hard to be serious when you and the groom have been laughing at each other’s farts for 25 years.

I went through two drafts before I got to one that we we’re both happy with.

Here’s one of them: 

Dearly beloved, affectionately acquainted, and total strangers with whom I hope to exchange names in the near future, I bid you welcome.

We are gathered here today, sheltered from blinding Texan sun, to celebrate the union of my little brother Eric and my soon to be little sister Shannon.

How came we here, friends? What wild-ass string of unforeseeable events brought us to this pass, where these two unthinkably attractive young people, one with eyes of winter crystal, the other with the cascading locks of Ceres framing her comely visage are about to forge themselves into one mighty weapon of matrimony?

I’ve had the great privilege of knowing Eric his whole life, from tiny baby to Young Bobby Hill to the strong, willful, intelligent and often hilarious young man you see before you today. I am honored to have had the opportunity to see him grow, to share in his joys and sorrows, to see him metamorphose from lowly caterpillar to razor-winged murder moth.

A large factor in Eric’s maturation over the past few years has been, in fact, the bride herself. I haven’t had the opportunity to get to know this beauty as well as I have my brother, but seeing the effect of her patience, good humor, generosity, and kindness have had on him I have no doubt she must love him deeply and passionately. I anticipate getting to better know this goddess of compassion, whose smile is the light in my brother’s eyes, and watching the two of them grow together over the decades to come.

The bond of marriage is one of great power, my dear friends. These two will in a short while possess a strength far greater than that which either of them have separately. Like Voltron or the Megazord, they will combine into a force to be reckoned with.

But with great power, as Uncle Ben once said, comes great responsibility. The road ahead will not be without bumps or windings. In order to maintain the bond we assist in forging today, these two must work together–moving as one through thick metaphorical jungle, soaring through storm-tossed metaphorical skies, blasting through the metaphorical voids of metaphorical deep space. They must shore each other up against the unceasing onslaughts of the enemy–who must surely also be a metaphor, because how could anyone have ire against these two beauties?

My dear and patient bride and groom, please now profess your devotion and make your vows to one another, so that we will know the strength with which you cleave together.

(They would have said their vows here)

Eric, do you take Shannon as your copilot, in sickness and in health, to wind the starship of your love through asteroid fields, to have and to hold, to share in the plunder of successful campaigns, until the heat death at the end of the universe?

Shannon, do you take Eric as your sidekick, for richer or poorer, to stare down evil, to clench the mighty fist of Justice and plunge it through the gankity-ass grill of crime, forever and ever, until death do you part?

By the power of Grayskull, I now pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may kiss the bride.

I was okay with this one, but the bride and groom were not. Understandably, I think. Weddings are, like, important or whatever.

I have another draft of the same speech as an extended nautical metaphor if you’re interested in reading it. But that’s a matter for another post.

Backgrounds and the Hole at the Heart of the World

A friend of mine complimented me on the backgrounds in the Black Dog and the Hole at the Heart of the World pt. 2 this week, which naturally swelled my heart. So I thought I’d talk about drawing on lived experience to create environments.

Most of which comes from my recent tenure in Austin, TX, a city at the center of my home state and heart.

As has been observed by countless vapid music and technology journalists, Austin has a pretty unique character: an island of liberalism in the middle of God’s Country, Austin boasts one of the liveliest music scenes in the US, a sizable visual art community, and reasonably functional public transit.

So the city in Black Dog and the Hole at the Heart of the World is basically Southeast Austin.

(Above: East Oltorf, more or less. I used to live in an apartment complex a little off the main street here with my brother. Shout out to Eric!)

I didn’t have a camera when I was living there, and I wasn’t really drawing as much as I should have been, so all I really have to go off of is my memory and Google, which serve nicely when I can remember what neighborhood on which I want to base the location.

I’m not using Google as much as I am my memory, though. I know that if I were to attempt to slavishly reproduce every neighborhood I want Caleb and Gabi to visit in this book I’d probably lose interest faster than your grandad diving into W.G. Sebald’s Austerlitz. So I’ve been trying to evoke an emotional likeness to Austin rather than a photographic likeness, which is, I think, more accurate.

(Do you remember what the bus stops looked like near your first apartment? Or do you remember what happened there?
Do you remember the logo of the pho place near Gordon’s house, or do you remember the first time he asked you out?
Do you remember the precise name of every business on South Congress Ave., or do you remember talking with Becca about how fitted jeans are a corporonormative fashion? Do you remember making up the word “corporonormative?” )

We don’t remember specific details about our environments until they’re made important to us by emotional involvement,  I think. Which is why it’s so easy for cartoonists to draw only the barest suggestions of their characters’ surroundings, and why I can get away with only using one-point perspective most of the time.
I guess the Black Dog and the Hole at the Heart of the World could really be set anywhere; but because I lived in Austin for a while, it makes more sense to me to reference those spaces with which I am familiar.

Of course, some of my referenced locations aren’t actually in Austin; some are a bit closer to my current home in Vermont:

(They’re pretty similar, trust.)

There’ll be something new in the store tomorrow! Keep your eyes peeled.

The Black Dog and the Hole at the Heart of the World, pt 1