Comic strips as a daily ritual

I just looked through the several comic strips I subscribe to or check regularly online. I get about two dozen emailed to me, and have bookmarked several more. Sometimes I'm busy in the morning and just want to get to work, and it seems as if looking through them will just waste my time; but then I remind myself that I need to come up with a new cartoon myself every day, and I am frequently inspired by other artists' work. (Sometimes I am bummed by other artists' work, however--in the year it took to develop the strip and site, Mother Goose and Grimm featured four or five cartoon ideas I had already drawn! Occasionally, I can twist the gag into something new, but sometimes, as with our mutual Hatchback of Notre Dame, there's nothing more to be done with it.) I came up with two new ideas based on other people's stuff today, so reading comics actually becomes Constructive Work for me!

But I read one today, on the Argyle Sweater site, about a black sheep with a clogged dryer lint filter, that just made me laugh. I do these strips because I enjoy a good cartoon, where the art, concept and wording all come together. I find too often that there's something I don't like about a cartoon I've done--usually something in the execution of the drawing itself--but when I feel I've nailed it on all counts, I get a rush of satisfaction. For example, there's a bear cartoon coming up next week that I actually like as much as I like other people's work. See if you agree. Then buy it on a shirt, or a mousepad, or a mug. I may do that myself.

The fun part for me--okay, one of the many fun parts--is when I realize that some part of my formal education is actually being put to use in my work. When I went to art school, I learned about composition, and when I was a theater major taking Directing, I also learned about setting a scene onstage. Sometimes, when I'm trying to decide how to illustrate a situation, I'll find myself using that training to compose the scene. It surprises me when I realize that being an art student, and then a theater student--both of which so often lead to careers in completely unrelated fields--actually help me with my work. It's as if my education actually paid off! This is normal for people who studied medicine, law, teaching, etc., but for a lot of us artsy-fartsy and/or liberal arts types, it can be a revelation.

(Interesting digression: I just had to inform my computer's Spellcheck that "fartsy" is a real word. There's probably a cartoon in there somewhere.)

I have to clean my office for Easter. See, I work in a room adjacent to the dining room, and we're having company Sunday. I like to maintain a certain level of messiness in my office--I know where things are, and when I come up with a new idea, it goes onto the appropriate pile. It's good for an office, bad for company. Draping sheets over everything won't cut it, so into boxes, drawers and cabinets go all the stuff. Then Monday, I'll have to figure out where everything is. That might result in a cartoon, too. If you see an office-cleaning cartoon in a couple of months, you heard about it here first. And if Mike Peters does the same thing in Mother Goose and Grimm first, boy, will I be bummed!