As I go back through old A&J comic strips, looking for something to post, I’m more aware of whether a particular cartoon was drawn with a felt-tip pen or a traditional dip pen. This is, of course, because of my recent comments here. I have professed a preference for dip pen and India ink, and I have not changed my opinion, but I have wavered. I will admit that sometimes I have to look closely to tell, myself. And I must say, the lines drawn with a Micron 08 felt pen have more weight than lines drawn with an Esterbrook 048 pen nib. This is a plus with me, because I have always felt my line work appears somewhat anemic, partly because I don’t use a lot of blacks or shades of gray, probably. Still the pen nibs do allow a varied line, and they glide so much better. By that I mean, the feel when I draw is one of fluidity and control. To me, drawing with a dip pen feels like Sonja Henie on ice, and a felt pen feels like, well, me on ice. Of course, with a dip pen there’s always the possibility of the disastrous ink blob appearing out of nowhere which is the inking equivalent of falling through the ice. There’s a little more to say on this subject, though not much. I’ll try to say it next time. This cartoon, by the way, was drawn with a felt pen.
76 responses to “Finish Line”
Good grief, Ludwig! I have been up and awake over an hour already. Good morning.
Ha. I don’t recall this one, but it certainly fits me to a tee. Walking always bored me until I couldn’t run any more. I enjoy running much more, but I am getting satisfaction in walking. Best advice that I ever heard was: Keep Moving!
it was pretty obvious this cartoon was drawn with the felt tip pen. The lines are heavier and darker in general. I also prefer the look of the nib pen, the lines look more varied and expressive IMO. Human drawn.
I agree on lines. These are just too heavy. I can tell but I was raised on “real” cartoon art from 1940s onward.
You can really see the hard lines in Janis’ hair.
After a period of quite reflection, I am headed to the cemetery.
Ghost we are with you.
Ghost,
Shedding a tear for you, for me, and the losses that many of us have suffered. The biggest regret…
“But I always thought that I’d see you again”
James Taylor: https://youtu.be/7ALnh3w32VE
Be brave GR6.
It is a red bird day here in my gardens. Bulbs are peeking out and birds are the only sounds except the wind and the music.
Dickens and I sit on a stone bench and I am a peace.
Yes, I am crying for all of us. But my soul is more at peace than it has been in a long time.
Have decided to plant an iris.bed in pinks for Ghost’s sister mom and friend
They will return each year and bloom.
Courage. It takes courage to live.
There is a mockingbird perched high on the trumpet lily vine. Just sitting and listening to the music.
State bird of Mississippi.
And the shading is not really necessary in a talking heads cartoon—instead the “shading” comes from something like Janis leaning, or like Arlo running. (I will never forget “There’s gold in them thar hills!”) Arlo has run, on occasion. In a panel. In our sight. But when you do shade, Jimmy, making, say, an atmospheric scene outdoors, it is good to admire. Only what is necessary in a cartoon, nothing superfluous. Supreme concision, more than in any other art, maybe. Thanks for the post! Interesting!
Ghost, I hope that this morning has been everything your best friend and you have wished it to be.
Terry and Mark in TTown and Steve in RO, I am paddling in your canoe.
Jimmy, forgot to say the comparison of an ink blot to falling through the ice after the Sonja Henie reference is marvelous. Did you grow up watching her movies?
Should be “I forgot to…” We Michiganders sometimes drop that first pronoun.
Smigz: You are more than welcome to paddle, but please don’t stand up. I’m an awful swimmer
I remember reading The Brass Ring, by Bill Mauldin. When he was a boy, another cartoonist told him that speed was important, and that instead of trying to scrape off a blob, make it into a daisy.
Steve, definitely no standing. A friend and I were canoeing in the Clinton downriver of Yates Cider Mill. He grabbed a cup from the picnic basket to bail a bit, dropped it overboard, lunged for it, and flipped the canoe. We saved each other, our glasses, the picnic basket, and the thermos. We lost the cup, our shoes, and the fried chicken. P.S. Where are you now since not in RO?
Smigz:
I am near Dequindre between Warren and Madison Heights. It is a Warren address. I moved on New Years last year, but it took 6 months to sort and pack for the journey. We had not really planned on moving, but sometimes events happen that make that choice rather obvious. This way we could move on our own terms and into a house that really doesn’t need any work. I wish it were bigger about 2 days a year, but after having Christmas this year, we plan to put a tree downstairs so that we will have room to mingle before dinner. When we are ready to exchange gifts, there is plenty of room down there as well.
It is done…a wonderful service for a wonderful person, performed under an azure sky that seemed to me to be identical to the one the morning the wild geese crossed in front of me as I drove to see my sister. My deepest thanks go out to those of you who were there with me in spirit. I could feel you not only supporting me but lifting me up.
Special note to Jackie: I too am now more at peace than I have been for the past week, and perhaps more so than for the last three years. Strange that we both are feeling that at the same time. Or perhaps not.
And Jackie, if you have room in your iris bed, put a purple one in there for my grandmother. She had many purple iris plants lining the road in front of her house. Because of that, I have always been partial to them.
Ghost, it’s not strange you are more at peace now. You are not under the stress of watching someone you care deeply for leave this world. Now you can take a deep breath, slow down, and think about what made them special to you. Wishing you many happy memories, peace, and the strength to keep on going.
Dearest Ghost, I have lots of room. On way to buy roots. I will do a bed of pinks and one of purples for you. Mark has asked I do one in lavendar for his mother and grandmother who raised him.
I think this is a wonderful idea, to plant flowers in memory of those gone. This way they bloom on. That was idea when people were allowed to plant flowers in cemeteries.
So many of those heirlooms live on.
Thank you, Mark.
As y’all may recall, last spring I bought three urn planters to place in front of the three windows of my mom’s living room, and planted them, from back to front, in Foxtail Fern, Coleus Alabama Sunset, and Snow Princess. I am certainly no floral designer, but it was a combination that worked. She loved them and spent much time sitting on her porch, looking at the plants and watching the birds on her feeders.
The urns now have a similar setting at my place, but due to the change of season and the recent hard freeze here, all the plants are now dead. But this spring, the urns will be replanted and will blossom with new life. (There may be a bit of symbolism hidden in there.) This time, one urn will represent my mother, one my sister, and one my friend. Each of them loved flowers, and each urn will be planted to reflect their favorites.
I can’t wait…and that from someone who has never ornamental gardened before in his life. I may have discovered a new passion. Or perhaps I’ve just been hang out on-line with Jackie too much. 🙂
I turned my truck driver helper into a gardener as well. He doesn’t want a “real” job. There is nothing unmasculine about gardening.
The best have always been men. Thomas Jefferson loved gardening, both flowers and edibles, kept a daily diary.
There is just something about a living thing.
Just got five pounds of red potatoes to plant for new potatoes and lime to treat them. Ordered forty sacks of composted manure.
Gardeners spend more time on their knees than a saint and have as much hope and faith and prsyer.