Hello, reader. I think I know what this will be: a monthly newsletter, both about art and non-art (cats)—a digest version of my prior instagram presence, which I assume has burned a hole in your collective heart.
First things first. Clarice went into heat two days before her spay appointment, and started trilling and crawling low to the ground like a crocodile. I had to separate her from the boys, and lock her in a horny jail. She’s fine now, relieved of all unnecessary functions, but that was quite a week… I must say, I did enjoy running a prison—swapping them, giving regimented breaks, etc. I’ve always had a fantasy of being incarcerated myself, especially after someone told me that most Fantagraphics submissions come from behind bars. In my dream scenario I establish myself immediately as the Tattoo Guy—again, I’m told those get extra protection from local fathers—and I imagine my fellow inmates would be delighted to have their bodies decorated by the recipient of not one, but two Society of Illustrators awards! Then I’d work on my books, free of temptations and distractions, and probably produce my best work. And on top of all that, I’d get to commit a free crime in order to get locked up in the first place!
I’d run through a list of people I wouldn’t mind murdering, and often think that the funniest thing would be to kill someone I don’t know well, and whose existence doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Some friend of friend’s I met at a dinner party at some point—we may’ve talked about rent-controlled apartments or airplane pillows, and that was that. Then 10 years later I murder this person for no reason. When asked, I say that this was a conceptual act, a severance of ties to the society, and an abnegation of personal agency for the sake of artistic commitment. Not sure if they have cats in prisons, so might keep this plan on the backburner.
I went to Angoulême festival for the first time, and it was so lovely to return to this sleepy town and walk all my favorite streets again. I did a residency there some 4-5 years ago and had an exceptionally miserable and unproductive time, but found myself missing it a great deal as soon as it was over. I’m not usually prone to nostalgia, and I’ve been trying to figure out why I’ve been clinging to this memory so much, and I think I have it figured out at last: it was so effortless to be with people. I would head out for a walk and stumble upon someone, go for a drink (pastis), and waste time without any need for an excuse to do so. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I visited again… By the way, Angoulême is mostly known for its comics residency, and a prison. Coincidence???????????????????
Yes.
Anyway, enough sentiment! Here’s a very stupid comic I improvised on the plane to France. I was flying fairly high.
I will share some of the books I got at the festival next month! Lastly, here are some of the exciting sights I saw in Dublin. I had a very romantic vision of the place, thought it would be filled with people quoting Third Policeman, but no, it wasn’t that exactly. Lovely pubs and cats, though.
Right now I’m in London for a week, then back home (the Lands Between), where I will try to finish a short film I’ve been slowly making for way too long. I realized earlier that the Pictoplasma deadline is at the end of April, and decided to do the slightly demented thing of wrapping up 80% of the work in 2 weeks after a year of intermittent progress. We’ll see if I survive.
Thanks for reading! This one was churned out quickly, but for the next ones I’ll try to make notes throughout the month, so hopefully it will be less crap.
A Man of Guilt and Leisure,
Roman Muradov