No. 364: Three Cartooning Crutches

Snouts, sprouts, doubts.

No. 339: Reader's Digest Previews

Available for download within February 2009:

Salt Mines #2
Spooked Horse Gets A Grade
The Thirties
Walt
Darcy and Me

No. 297: The Fishing Winos

Dear Reader,

Everyone knows that making dumb pictures is the only way to respond to a brutally bad world, but did you know that the only people who really know how to cope with their fears are the winos at Island Park? Every day they fish there, often without shirts, and usually while wearing large boots and actually standing in the water. It might be juvenile of me to assume they are winos but I am pretty sure they are. They have to be. If they are not winos the whole dreamy image is ruined for me. You see, readers, I would like more than anything to capture this and things like it, but the "drawing style" I've somehow constructed for myself could never allow for it to happen. It's a trap to be in! It's soothing and nice to be able to draw in a specific way, to construct a reality of your own, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, but sometimes I wish I could take a piece of charcoal and make elegant folds in the pants of a fishing wino. Like a Norman Rockwell type picture, with a nice crayon-shaded sunset. Maybe it would be a 32-page book, FISHING WINOS BY DANE MARTIN, with a nice bronze cover and a picture of my great grandfather drawing horses at the end. This is a thing that could only exist in an ideal world. Maybe another book would be PIZZA HUT EMPLOYEES BY DANE MARTIN, or MEAN LIBRARIANS BY DANE MARTIN, or RACCOONS I SEE IN THE STREET BY DANE MARTIN. Somehow capturing reality is becoming really appealing to me all of a sudden. Maybe it's because such a thing is the opposite of what I am, or what I pretend to be. I'm sure I'll get over this very soon. I'll never really get tired of drawing that sweating dog snout and those potruding sexual noses.

Your pal,

Dane

No. 291: Waiting by the Window for the Chocolate Birthday Star

DUST



AND



RUST


I'm feeling very nervous and crazy on this beautiful Sunday night. What does the future hold for this little idiot?

Recently the artists I've been thinking about most are John Stanley, George Carlson, Carl Barks, Peter Saul, Rod Scribner, Harold Gray, Blaise Larmee, Saul Steinberg, Sam Gaskin, Frank King, Jose Luis-Olivares, Ken Dahl, Zach Van Hazard, Jim Woodring, Seth, Al Columbia, Bobby London, Dan O'Neil, Kevin Huizenga, Marc Bell, James Thurber, Jason T. Miles, and Gary Panter. I'm posting this list because I'm more confused about my tastes than I should be. I think it lies somewhere between honest comic book dumb animal energy and pretentious Gary Panter Fort Thunder garbage. I don't know. Maybe it will develop itself as I mature and grow like a white little Sunday pig.

I'm trying to do more writing on this blog. I'm sorry for that. I think I'm getting a new robot friend computer machine within the next couple of weeks, so updates might be more frequent and the images may be more clear. As it is each post is a gamble. Usually the computer breaks before I can post anything. I think it's from 1997.

Good luck with all your endeavors and affairs!


COMING SOON: More "The Thirties"

No. 285: More Words

There was once a period in which my good friend B. used to say "I fucked up some rocks today" almost every day. It made me not hate cartooning and cartoonists and summed up everything I love about both. Thank you, B.



Also, the other day a great vision overcame me in which I realized that "Salt Mines" works best as 16-page installments. To some this might feel like an incomplete size for a mincomic, but I think it works best for the way my "storytelling" is at this present time. Get in and get out, gag gag gag! Issue number one just wrapped up and most of issue two is finished, making the original issue 2 become issue 3. Salt Mines 2 will begin serialization as soon as I finish the cover. I love pretending all of this is important. I should talk about something else on this blog. Would anyone be interested in hearing about Ricky's Taco or Aladdin's Dance Hall?

No. 278: Too Many Words

The first minute or so of this cartoon is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. It gets pretty boring after a while, but that first minute is golden. That's exactly what I want to do in comics. It's right there in a bland Disney cartoon. Nasily operatic woman singing beautiful things. I guess it's easy to look at this as Disney ruining another children's classic, but look at those clouds and listen to that voice and take it all in. It's nauseating, isn't it?? It's great! Give it a try.



I'm still serializing issue one of my comic book. I'm also working on issue number two, subtitled "We Work for Our Fruit and We Work for Our Poison, Too." It might end up being indistinguishable from issue 1 in every way. So far it includes lecturing birds, melting birds, sexual birds, and fathers of birds regretting their sins in heaven's pastures. Hopefully it will be done somewhat soon but who's keeping track of these things?

Secret publishing plans ahead; I'll keep you posted. Google Analytics tells me that at least two people in the whole world read this on a regular basis and I'm counting on you two beautiful people for my survival! I know you're out there.

Update -- Famous Uncle Scrooge McBuck informed me that the Salt Mines link was broken, but it's now fixed. Thanks, sir!

No. 257: Theme Song

Cop, dressed in red velvet made from skin of the sun,
Blessed with the power of holy ways done,
Followed the dog, coat yellow as honey,
Becoming best friends and making fast money.

No. 186: This Is the Goal Part II

Real excerpt from an Uncle Wiggily book:

"He shall never do that!" cried the rabbit, bravely. "I will save you." So he ran up to that snake, but the snake stuck out his tongue, like a fork, at the rabbit, and Uncle Wiggily was frightened. Then he tried to hit the snake with a stick, but the crawly creature hid down behind Grandfather Goosey, and so got out of the way.

"I have it!" suddenly cried Uncle Wiggily. "The popcorn balls. Snakes love them! I'll make him eat them, and then he'll let Grandpa Goosey go." So from his valise the brave rabbit took the red and the white and the chocolate colored popcorn balls, and he rolled them along the ground, close to the snake's nose. And the snake smelled them, and he was so hungry for them that he uncoiled himself from Grandfather Goosey's legs, and let the old gentleman duck go. And the snake chased after the corn balls and ate them all up, and then he didn't want anything more for a long while, and he went to sleep for six months and dreamed about turning into a hoop, and so he didn't bother anybody.

So that's how Uncle Wiggily saved the duck, and next, in case the pretty baby across the street doesn't fall down and bump its nose, I'll tell you about Uncle Wiggily and the ice cream cones.

REALIZATION BY THE OLD HONEY TREES

I'm planning on producing a minicomic collection of all the comics I did during the 2007-2008 CCS school year, which would include the entire KIN'S FOLLY story, CHANCELLOR COP AND THE MID-AUTUMN NIGHTBIRTH, WISE OLD BIRD STARTS ANEW, and TRUST OUR HANDS (from Sundays 2), among other things. Look for it at the beginning of next year. It's overdue.

Bright Future

SALT MINES #1

featuring

INTRODUCTION
OUR WORLD SO NEW
GOOSE IN THE WOODS
CHANCELLOR COP AND CHANCELLOR DOG
THE FIRST FOOD
BLESSED HOME