Wild about Wild Things

I am so excited about this it makes me want to sneak out tonight and sail away to lands unknown:

Wow! Doesn't it look great? I think I am more excited about this story now than I was as a kid, to be honest. When I was little, I found Maurice Sendak's illustrations a little muddy-coloured and old-fashioned (I was a discerning kid); and indeed there are some who believe his work is too dark, disturbing and nightmarish for young children.

I was always intrigued by the darker fare on offer at my Primary School library. I think children are naturally attracted to the idea of mysterious adventures made more thrilling by an undercurrent of danger; worlds within worlds populated by fantastic - and sometimes terrifying - creatures. I think a lot of modern stuff for children has had all of the character wiped out of it in the name of commercial viability (or parental approval); so that we are left with a homogenous "Monsters Inc" style where even the "bad" monsters look like harmless, brightly coloured rubber toys.

I'm not saying that there's not a place for lighter, simpler and less scary stories (I loved Winnie-the-pooh after all), but the ones that really fired my imagination as a child were the messy, crazy, scary ones that took children away from the safety of their homes and parents and to parallel worlds - the Roald Dahl books, Alice in Wonderland (with the original freaky Victorian engravings), the Magic Faraway Tree, the Narnia chronicles.

I have a secret* dream to write and illustrate a children's book in my lifetime. God knows when or if that is going to happen. But watching this trailer makes me excited about the possibilities. Also, I adore the Arcade Fire song illuminating it. And it was filmed in my hometown! I can't wait to see it.

*no more!

A scene from my childhood

I have been spending my Tuesday nights on a lovely illustration course, with a group of other frustrated graphic designers/desk-top publishers/digital retouchers/account executives. The atmosphere is quietly supportive, with not an overblown ego in sight. It just feels so nice to be back in an educational environment. The hallways and stairwells seem infused with hormones and ideas and hope which has not yet been extinguished.

I don't even know where this style of drawing came from - I have never used it before - but I am trying new materials and methods, and having a lot of fun in the process. It turns out, I like drawing dinosaurs and little kids.

Our first project was based around the statement that "Sometimes, it's good to lie". This is one of the pieces I came up with.

Feelin' brighter

Ahhhhh. Turns out all I needed was a little space to myself, a creativity injection in the form of a short illustration course at Central St. Martins, and a few days of nice weather to cycle in to turn my mood around.

I suppose one of the up-sides to global warming is that, when the oil runs out, there will be no excuse for people not to get on their bikes even in the depths of Winter. Although we'll all be bacon by then, and hopefully the planet will be initialising recovery from the legacy left by the stupidest species ever to walk upright.

Rant over!

So, the cycling. My bike is a big old heavy mountain-bike which takes some beltin'. It is slow - even those miniature folding bikes with wheels the size of plates regularly whizz past me - but I feel safer astride it than I would a dinky little racer, and it copes well with the vast potholes Hackney Council seem to pride themselves on. It has a few lovable quirks, like the way it skips gears when it feels like it, and occassionally decides to lose the chain altogether - what, you didn't want your feet to go flying off the pedals in the middle of a busy intersection?! - and it certainly isn't a good looker.

Still, I have become strangely attached to my flawed hunk of (semi) working metal parts, and it has brought me much happiness.

Words AND pictures - what could be better?

It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I am a bit of a nerd. All I wanted in High School, and Uni, was to be cool. It seemed to me (at the time) that being cool was somehow related to "not giving a shit" and being extremely laidback about, like, everything. To display enthusiasm towards anything was to reveal yourself as deeply uncool. I think this must have been the time I learnt to hide my enthusiasm away, because now I have trouble getting enthusiastic about anything. Except chocolate, of course. But I digress.

The geekiest thing about me? I read comic books. Witness the progression of my life through the funny papers:

1. I start out on Asterix and Obelix, borrowed from the local library.

2. Move on to Peanuts, then Garfield throughout primary school.

3. Read MAD magazine feverishly through high school.

4. I discover Calvin and Hobbes through a friend at Uni.

Of course, in the meantime, the Simpsons were exploding all over TV, South Park came out and all of a sudden cartoons were not Just For Kids anymore.

5. My Dad introduces me to Krazy Kat, the sweetest and most lyrical love story between a cat and a mouse that you will ever read.

6. Somewhere along the line, I come across Robert Crumb and his whacked-out hippy comics from the 70's.

7. A friend gives me a copy of Ghost World for my birthday, which I enjoy on a visual level, but which leaves me with an uncomfortable, desolate feeling (maybe that was the point).

8. Since being in the UK, I discover the razor-sharp Life in Hell, by Matt Groening - as well as:

9. the Persepolis series, by Marjane Satrapi. That is a proper grown-up, educational read, my friends. You no longer need feel ashamed that you are reading a picture-book.

Then came:

10. Maus by Art Speigelman. Words cannot do justice to this incredible book. It won a Pulitzer prize. That should shut those cool kids up.

Anyway, back where it all began.

Yesterday I walked past one of those shonky "temporary" book sales, and I couldn't resist buying a set of 10 Asterix comics for the bargain price of £22.

I inherited my love of Asterix (and subsequently my love of all story-based comics) from my Dad, who could frequently be found sitting up in bed of an evening, cup of tea on the bedside table, giggling quietly over the antics of that indomitable Gaulish village, holding out against the Roman invaders...

Thanks, Dad. I shudder to imagine how different my life would have been if you had been heavily into competitive sports or something.