If not, so what?




This is the first comic I’ve drawn, and one of the only times my pen has touched paper, in a year and a half. Not to make a thing out of it, but it’s really prompted me to examine what inspired me to draw comics as much as I did a couple of years ago, and where I was at that point in my life. It feels like I was working through some stuff that now feels childish, fanciful, narcissistic, and compulsive. Like it was more about satisfying some mental need to put my life into boxes and make sense of it that was than making art. A couple of my favorite cartoonists have slowed down their output and refocused lately too and, as it happens, we all turned 30 in the same year. So maybe it was just some Saturn returns shit. In any case, writing in such a maudlin tone as this doesn’t work for me anymore. So why DO I need to make comics?


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