Wednesday, July 13, 2016
The moment we have all possibly been waiting for is upon us: King-Cat #76 is shipping NOW! This new issue features A Trip to the Confluence, Dreaming, Old People in Restaurants, Sports Radio, Fall Signs, Winter Signs, Radishes, Birds, and 9 pages of fascinating Letters to the Editor; plus more. A Weird One — (But Not Bad). (32 digest pages, black and white throughout.)
To order a single issue of King-Cat #76, costs (including shipping/handling) are as follows:
CANADA: $7.20 USD
REST OF WORLD: $8.75 USD
Via PayPal to kingcat_paypal AT hotmail DOT com
If you're in the US you can also send cash/check/mo payable to:
PO Box 142
South Beloit, IL 61080
If you would like to order KC 76 along with other items, please use the convenient online shopping cart at SPIT AND A HALF.
Thursday, June 23, 2016
It's been a rough, weird spring, with health problems knocking me out and dropping me behind on everything and always trying to catch up and feeling like I'm never getting anywhere. So lately, I've been trying to keep things in balance, and that means getting outside and working in our yard, or going for walks in the woods and fields around Beloit.
As always, whatever state of turmoil I may find myself in, a walk outdoors usually relieves it. Recently I've been out hiking in the Stateline Restoration Prairie, where the June blooms are rockin', or out at the J. Norman Jensen Forest Preserve, where I keep looking for Pileated Woodpeckers, but only find beautiful Orioles or Goldfinches or Red-headed Woodpeckers etc.
One of my favorite bends in the Rock River.
Path into the woods.
Ruins of old fireplace, out in the woods.
Sometimes the world is so beautiful, it almost seems like I'm hallucinating.
Can you find the Great Blue Heron in this picture?
Can you find the muskrat in this picture?
Keep runnin' up that hill.
Just another day in Paradise.
Otherwise, I woke up the Sunday of CAKE with more hearing problems. Not as bad as following DINK, when I went wholly deaf in my right ear, but bad enough that it got me thinking. As you surely know, I went though about a decade of very serious illness, during which time I became somewhat of a recluse. My health was not good enough to travel, except in the most emergency type situations. Finally circa 2007 or so, I finally began to feel well enough to get out on the road again. At first it was difficult, but then in 2009 I turned into a road dawg. I hit every show, festival, signing and event I could reasonably or even not-so-reasonably attend. It felt great after 10 years of solitude to get out into the world, meet people again, visit new places, etc. But I'm now beginning to feel like the energy and health I'd saved up in those ten years has dissipated again. Like it's time for me to pull back once more.
I've canceled my table at SPX 2016, my one remaining long-distance show of the year. The Jenny Zervakis Strange Growths book, which we'd hoped to debut at SPX, will now debut at CAKE 2017. I'll still attend the remaining few very-local shows left (Madison Print and Resist and Milwaukee Zine Fest, both in the fall), but otherwise I'm staying put.
Clearing my slate like this is a huge relief. Summer is here, and I'm looking forward to spending it outdoors, or drawing my own comics, or watching the Honeymooners, digging in the yard or painting the shed. Planting some real roots.
King-Cat #76 is at the printers, and #77 is partway drawn, with all the pages allotted for. I wanna have that out before the end of the year. I wanna dig down inside myself again. I promise to bring out whatever I find there.
LOVE YOU ALL,
Thursday, June 16, 2016
So, last weekend was CAKE, the beloved and well-appreciated Chicago Alt-Comics festival. In a last minute push I managed to overcome my inertia and got a small print run of the new King-Cat printed for the show. (The main run, which goes out to stores and subscribers etc, will be coming soon.)
The view from the Spit and a Half table, Saturday.
The Hon. Zak R. Sally, my next door neighbor and best bud.
British writer Dean Simons and Kilgore Books impresario, Dan Stafford.
Sgt. Huizenga of the Lake County Sheriff's Police.
My other neighbors were Keiler and Scott Roberts and their daughter Xia, who drew a picture of a groundhog and a beaver dancing for me.
So anyhow, the show was great. And then. Somehow I made it through the entire day Sunday, from 11-6, at one of the biggest LGBTQ Centers in Chicago, without ever hearing about the shooting in Orlando. As I was loading out that evening, I noticed all the security in bullet proof vests everywhere, and I asked what was going on. It was then that I found out what had happened.
Walking out then onto Halsted Street, the historic heart of Chicago's LGBTQ community, I was stunned into speechlessness and heartbreak. The people moving down the street, rainbow flags draped over their shoulders, it all seemed like an eerie, terrible dream.
Let me just say out loud that I treasure my many gay, lesbian, bi, trans and otherwise queer friends. I can't imagine-- if I felt as stunned, scared, and furious as I did-- how you all must feel. For whatever it's worth, my love is here with you, along with the love of all your millions of supporters.
Thursday, April 7, 2016
It's been a million years since I posted here. Just running out of energy I guess. Which will likely be the theme of this post.
Been working on King-Cat 76, and got so much done in January that I went ahead and inked the indicia page with a "February" publishing date. Ha! I got exactly nothing done in the month of February. March rolled around, and all I could think about was how I was supposed to go to Denver for the inaugural DINK show at the end of the month, and how there was going to be a blizzard that weekend, because in Colorado there's ALWAYS a blizzard the last week of March.
So, I tricked my bestie Noah Van Sciver into flying into Milwaukee so we could drive out together. Sure enough the day before we left 15" of snow fell on the Front Range and was moving east at quite a clip. So we got in the car and drove towards it. It turned out fine, but a lotta people freaked out.
Here's a pic of me and Noah having a steak brunch just before heading out on the road.
Where's all the blizzard at?
Noah sketching in bed at the Howard Johnson's in Lincoln, NE.
This was my breakfast/lunch, outside of Denver. You may not be able to tell, but that serving of guacamole is approximately one tablespoon. Thus begins our descent into madness.
Thursday Night we had a "meet and greet" at our beloved Kilgore Books, where I mostly hid in the corner. I was already brutally tired from two days of driving and not eating well. Back in the day, when I occasionally worked a Sunday shift at Kilgore, I made some of these Shelf Markers. Here's US History.
And they still have my window sign up!
DINK was held at what was once known as the El Jebel Ballroom. During the many years I lived in Denver this remarkable building was continuously boarded up, but I always heard old-timers describe the ornate impossibilities it held within. Having walked past it hundreds of times, only imagining the jewels inside, it was pretty great to not only finally get to go in, but to go inside because there was a comics show taking place!
View from the mezzanine, during setup hours.
All of this "wallpaper," which covered every square inch of space, is actually HANDPAINTED. Imagine that, and try to determine the precise moment this country took a long walk off a short pier.
Saturday night was the first annual DINKy Awards, and I was getting a very nice "Industry Achievement Award." At the event where my old pal Jason Heller interviewed me before the awards, a handful of people showed up. When we began, there were maybe three people in attendance. The absurdity of the moment prompted me to rig up some alternative nameplates for the interview.
Here's the award. Again, I thought it was ironic that I got such a special award at a show where I sold maybe nine copies of King-Cat, but such is comics.
Saturday night, walking past the Capitol Building.
Visiting Denver was rough for me. I lived there off and on for 12 years or so, from the time downtown had an 80% vacancy rate in its apartment units, to the arrival of Medical Marijuana in 2010. By that time the rents had become impossible for me to deal with. Now of course, it's only gotten worse. All every single Denverite I spoke to over the weekend, who hadn't had the good luck or resources to buy property at some point, could talk about was how sad they were that they were going to have to find a new city to live in.
The city itself has given itself over to pot and blogging. Now I'm not a teetotaler (sorta) and I do believe pot causes about as much damage as alcohol, and that shit's legal, but there was no denying the downward spiral Denver has taken since legalization. I'm sure in terms of tourism and money and real estate values things are great. In terms of a decent city where regular people can live and work, I was heartbroken to see what's happened.
So maybe this stuff was getting to me. A cranky week on the road with poor sleep, exhaustion, bad food, incredible stress. When we got back home I dropped Noah off at O'Hare and slept for two days before crawling out of bed to finally face my responsibilities. After a classroom talk in Madison that Wednesday night, I went to bed and woke up in the morning with intense pain and swelling in my right ear. If you've read The Hospital Suite or Diary of a Mosquito Abatement Man or Map of My Heart, you know about my struggles with Hyperacusis. This felt similar, but different. The pain continued to grow worse, and by Saturday night I had started to lose hearing in the ear. Sunday morning when I woke up I was completely deaf on the right side.
At my exam Monday, the audiologist looked grim. With this amount of hearing loss, the likelihood of a full recovery was slim, he said. I was put on Prednisone for swelling and Valtrax in case the problems were viral in nature. But it could be anything. It could have been caused by a mild stroke, a tumor pressing on the nerve, MS, or it might be one of those things where I may never know what happened. We shall see.
Day by day there has been some improvement. I can hear faint sounds now when I touch my ear. I've been seeing an acupuncturist, and she's hopeful I will improve. And I am too. I don't want to jump the gun. Many cases like mine resolve themselves within a few weeks. But when I tried to listen to my favorite Carpenters album with one ear, I felt a wave of fear and sadness roll over me.
I've been through enough stuff in my life to know it's not the end of the world. Hell, Brian Wilson wrote Pet Sounds with one ear, right? And I may very well come through this all right (I hope!). But the whole thing feels like a "Come to Jesus" moment for me.
Since 2007, right after Maisie died, I've been hauling ass around this country, attending every comics show and zine show and book signing and etc I could do. It was fun, and it helped me overcome the decade of isolation I felt during the really bad OCD years. But a few years back I started to notice the toll it all was talking on me. I couldn't spring back like I used to. I was tired all the time. Beyond tired. When I was setting up the Spit and a Half table in Denver all I could keep thinking was "I'm getting too old for this."
Each year I tell myself this is the year I'm going to cut back on travel, and each year before I know it I'm scheduled for 10 or 12 shows. I remember last year, when my pal the amazing cartoonist (and fellow Road Dawg) Nate Powell got shingles following the SPACE show in Columbus. His Facebook post about it, and how it made him realize he could no longer keep up the pace he was on, affected me deeply at the time. I've now had the same type of experience.
Last week with some sadness, but to be honest, some relief, I canceled my SPACE visit, as well as a trip to Durham for what I'm sure will be an awesome event: Zine Machine. I just can't do it anymore. Maybe in a year or two I'll be rested up and feel different. I will still attend CAKE and Chicago Zine Fest and the other more local shows (Madison, Milwaukee), and the day before I lost my hearing I paid for my SPX 2016 table, so I'll likely be at that show (we're hoping to debut the Jenny Zervakis collection there!).
Meanwhile I'm going to try to stay home and draw, volunteer at the Bird Banding Station, spend time with my family, and concentrate on healing up, on the things that lower my stress level rather than add to it.
King-Cat 76 is almost done. It should ship in May. If you have a subscription and have moved since last time (May 2015), please drop me a line with your new address. Additionally, I have four pages for KC 77 already drawn and inked! I'm hoping to pull off a release of that one before the end of the year. I'd love to get back on a two-issue per year schedule.
Some raw pages for King-Cat #76.
I don't want to end on a total downer, but the last few months have been heartbreaking. Steph and I have seen the death of her stepmom, our beloved cat Ninny, Alvin Buenaventura, Jess Johnson, and there are more family related traumas going on behind the scenes. We're getting older. Let's take care of ourselves and each other. I love you all.
Prince Ninny (2006-2016)
Princess Michi, the Secret Cat, who's just getting to know everybody.
Thursday, January 7, 2016
It's 2016, and things are set to really kick into gear... I have high hopes for a productive year. For a long time, the unpredictability of my living situations led to me getting less work done that I would have liked, but now I find myself in Domestic Bliss: two dogs, two cats, a backyard with lots of birdfeeders, a stable, loving relationship with a wonderful woman... it's been great! So I'm really hoping to get back to a two per year schedule with King-Cat. KC #76 is already well on its way to publication (likely in February sometime), and that will give me plenty of room to get #77 out in the fall. Additionally, I'm finally going to be publishing my South Beloit Journal, a three month span of daily diary strips from 2011 (a few were excerpted in King-Cat 72).
Even bigger news is that this summer will see the release of Spit and a Half's first book form publication, a 200+ page collection of Jenny Zervakis' seminal Strange Growths comics. This is something I've wanted to do since 1997, and the time is finally here!
I'll be travelling some in 2016 too, but truthfully, I'm hoping to wind down the amount of road time I've been putting in over the past seven years or so. As I get older, it's begun to really wear on me. With the upgraded Spit and a Half distro site, it's now easier than ever to get tons of great comics delivered to your doorstep, so I'm hoping that will pick up some of the slack from me not travelling as much.
And finally, after a lot of soul searching and hand wringing, I'd like to announce the debut of my Patreon page. Patreon is a web platform that allows fans of an artist's work to make small, regular, monthly donations to help support that work. Mine is set up with a number of levels, where contributors receive anything from a simple "thank you" to an ongoing subscription program. There will also be an exclusive monthly e-newsletter for Patreon supporters, The Boney Island Observer, featuring chit chat, comics, photos, samples of work in progress, and up to the minute Groundhog news, delivered straight to your inbox.
I realize times are tight, but if you find yourself in a situation where you can afford to donate something, it would be greatly appreciated. As you no doubt know, comics and underground publishing are still mostly labors of love. Your support goes a long way towards keeping all this going.
Thanks! I'll see you around...
LOVE John P.
Thursday, November 19, 2015
So, there is still plenty of time left in 2015 for wonderful, terrible stuff to happen, but in the world of comics, things every year start to wind down about now. CAB was a few weeks ago, Milwaukee Zine Fest was last weekend [historically my last (and favorite) show each year]. The publishers are dropping their final holiday-hoped releases on us. So, time to pause and reflect.
I feel like I was on the road non-stop this year, but actually I did a few less shows than usual. That goes to show you how many festivals there are now. Tom Spurgeon at The Comics Reporter reflected recently on the unavoidable scheduling conflicts coming up nowadays, with two, sometimes three competing shows all scheduled for the same weekend sometimes. C'est la guerre.
I LOVE shows. I rarely feel more alive than I do while behind the Spit and a Half table putting great comix directly into the hands of readers. But the ceaseless travelling wearies. In a practical sense an artist or a publisher travelling great distances, paying for a table, paying for lodging, food, gas etc all to sell a comic book to someone is not exactly the most efficient way of doing business. But what else do we have? Aside from our handful of generous, open-minded retail outlets, from Desert Island in Brooklyn, to Copacetic in Pittsburgh, to Quimby's in Chicago, to Seite Books in LA, the general comics shop market continues to remain ignorant or even downright hostile to "Art Comics." Most people looking for unusual or challenging or non-sexist comics fled the comics shops a generation or two ago, but nothing substantial has risen up since to cater to those folks. So the shows fill a gap in the market.
Let me pause to suggest that good old-fashioned mailorder is maybe the best way to get these comics if you can't make it to the shows, or don't want to wait for a show to pick up a new title. I'm biased of course. I've run the Spit and a Half distro off and on for over 20 years now. One of my biggest accomplishments this year was bringing the website into the 20th Century (!) (Thank you Fran López!) with a cart, automated postage calculator, online checkout, etc, and the results have been great. More customers come through all the time, but I would say my total business is still about a third of what it was in the 90's, when mailorder was generally the only way to get these comics. I think and hope the distro will continue to grow as more people find out about it. (And of course there are plenty of other comix mailorder distros out there-- see the sidebar on my site.)
Looking back I feel like I barely got anything done this year. I'm STILL adding books to the distro site that I picked up at SPX or earlier, and all the travelling left little time or energy for drawing. When I really think about it though, over the course of the past year and a half I drew almost 300 pages of comics (producing both The Hospital Suite and King-Cat #75) -- still, the creative work seemed to get swallowed by the busy work this year.
I do have a head start on #76 and hope to have it out "early"-ish in 2016. I'll be travelling a bunch in 2016 too, but I'm trying to visit some of the shows and cities I've missed in recent years. We'll see how it all goes.
Anyhow, thanks to everyone who came out to signings, picked up a King-Cat somewhere along the line, visited my table at shows, and so on. Once the tired fog clears from my eyes, I realize what an amazing time for comics we live in. Here's to next year!
Thursday, October 29, 2015
A few days ago my good friend Noah Van Sciver posted his advice for young cartoonists, and it hit a nerve with a lot of people. You can find his post here. My name was mentioned in the essay, so I thought I would add a few thoughts of my own, in addition to what Noah said (which I'm in agreement with).
One thing I would say is that comics is still a small enough world that if you have talent, and cultivate that talent seriously, and find a unique voice and style, people will notice. There's no secret handshake or special gimmick you need to come up with. Just do good work, keep doing good work, and keep trying to improve. And be patient.
Don't let some imaginary perfect genius idea, that will take years to develop, keep you from doing hard, consistent work on what you have at hand right now. Just start somewhere and keep going.
Also, for the record, not ALL professional cartoonists have some "secret" means of supporting themselves. Many do it by working in illustration, web design, animation, making sandwiches at Panera Bread. But the number of cartoonists in the US that survive purely off "comics" is very very small. (I'm talking about people making personal, idiosyncratic art-comics, not genre stuff for big publishers.)
And: There is no shame and should be no sneering towards those with underlying financial support. Artists have had patrons and underlying support since forever. The larger problem is that on the surface comics seems like a "real" industry: there are well-attended comics festivals all over the country, awards given, NY Times Bestseller lists, and on and on. Looking at it from the outside it seems like "Yeah, this is something to get involved in!" The trick is that despite all that, the vast majority of people making their living solely from art-comics in this country work their asses off and still live in poverty.
For me personally, I didn't have a secret safety net, I just learned over time how to be comfortable surviving on $8000 a year. But when I got into comics I had no illusions about what I was facing. And I made that choice. And I wouldn't trade it for anything else.