Gil Roth Interviews Seth
Here’s Gil Roth, who has assembled an impressive list of interviews with cartoonists, speaking with Seth at the Strand bookstore in Manhattan. Seth (real name: Gregory Gallant) began contributing to The New Yorker in 2002.
Stand-Up Of Interest: Emily Flake, Jason Chatfield
Ms. Flake began contributing to The New Yorker in 2008; Mr. Chatfield began contributing in 2017.
— Thanks to my colleague, Bob Eckstein for bringing this event to the Spill.
Today’s Daily Cartoonist/Cartoon
Today’s Daily Shouts By…
Looking ahead, politically and Pikachu-y from J.A.K. Mr. K. began contributing to The New Yorker in 2014.
The Cover: It’s the Innovators Issue, hence the use of some headings floating in yellow-orangey color fields, like so:
Let’s hope these color fields aren’t permanent innovations.
On the cover: robots by Tom Gauld. Read what he has to say about his work here. The cover reminded me ever-so-slightly of Peter Arno’s meeting-of-the-dogs cover from the ancient times.
The Cartoons: Another week with a cartoonist making their print debut (11 out of 19 issues thus far in 2019). Kasia Babis is the 11th new cartoonist brought into the magazine’s stable this year, and the 37th cartoonist brought in by Emma Allen since she took the cartoon editor reins in May of 2017.
If the Spill handed out blue ribbons like the now dormant Cartoon Companion once did, I’d pin one on Sam Gross’s snail mail cartoon in the issue (p.30).
Rea Irvin: A fun innovation this issue would’ve been bringing back something in the magazine that never should’ve gone away: Rea Irvin’s classic Talk masthead. But not this week. Anyway, it appears below in its usual Monday Spill spot. Read about it here.
Today’s Daily Cartoonist/Cartoon
Mr. Dator began contributing to The New Yorker in 2006.
Note: Mr. Dator, along with several other New Yorker cartoonists (Lars Kenseth and Mort Gerberg among them) will be appearing at this week’s National Cartoonists Society Fest in California. The Daily Cartoonist has all the info here.
My mother once told me that Mother’s Day was more important to her than her own birthday. Thinking of her today, I can’t help but think of the world she grew up in, especially during her formative years from the 1920s through 1950s. Hers was not the world of the arts, but of a factory job right after high school, and later, jobs taken to put food on the table for her three kids (my father was basically a no-show). She worked a luncheonette counter, and at a doughnut shop. She worked in an ancient dark red brick factory near our home, where she assembled electrical parts whizzing by on an assembly line. She joined the local police force as a crossing guard, wearing a dark blue uniform and a badge.
At home, at the end of her work day, she’d return to her three young boys and her husband-less home. I spent those after-school early evening hours laying on our living room floor drawing; she left me alone in my little paper and pencil world, never commenting on what I was working on. But one day, when I was about seven years old, she broke her silence. It’s very possible she was worried; perhaps she wondered where all this drawing was going — how would I make a living drawing soldiers and cowboys and angry dragons; and why wasn’t I down at the park playing with all the other kids, or doing homework?
And so, on that late afternoon, she spoke up. “If someone asked you to draw a guy about to slip on a banana peel, you could do that, right?” I answered, “Yes” (thankfully I didn’t tell her that I hated the thought of someone telling me what to draw). All these many many years (and many many drawings) later, I continue to appreciate and value her beautiful parental mix of support and real world concern: “…you could do that, right?”