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What’s in a Name?

Oftentimes my site stats show that people are finding their way here by looking for the term “John Martz”.  Now, of course, as popular as I like to pretend I am, I don’t want to assume that I’m necessarily the particular John Martz they’re looking for.

So, if you’re here, dear reader, looking for someone else, then perhaps I can help you!

Perhaps you’re in search of South African Baptist John?  Or maybe Bluegrass Banjo John?  We also have Amateur Poet John and PoliSci John.

Then again, there’s a chance you’re looking for the seedier side of the John Martz world.  Perchance I can interest you in the John Martz luger?  If it’s other types of criminal activity that you’re into, maybe you’d like to get in touch with Incarcerated John.

Finally, the owner of johnmartz.com, Realtor John, is missing in action.  Let’s hope he gets home safe, wherever he is.  And if you’re still lost, maybe you can hunt down your John Martz with these people.

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Art in the City

The Armchair Garbageman points out this Toronto Star story on one of the city’s best-kept art secrets.

I had no idea this existed, so I’m definitely going to check it out.  Besides, I love A.J. Casson (and really, there’s only so many times I want to visit the AGO and stare thoughtfully at that giant stuffed cheeseburger).

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My Surroundings

I always enjoy seeing other people’s studios and work stations, so here are a couple pictures of my working environment.  As you can see, it’s a delicate ecosystem…

You can see some of my robots, including Voltron, Robbie, and Gigantor; a Gizmo statue, my Chris Ware lunchbox, the first issue of GUM, and a year-old christmas card from John Kerschbaum.

Toys!

More toys!

Even more!

A good chunk of my robot collection.  Although upon closer inspection it’s clear that one of these things does not belong here.

This last picture deserves some explanation… my parents, on my birthday, mailed (to my office) this weird fake cat on a bed of tinsel.  There’s really no explanation, but it’s quite funny.  He’s gained an adoring fanclub around the office and has adopted the name Stiffy.

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llessur

My good friend Russell is having his first solo photography show in Toronto this weekend, for all those who are interested.  He has a great sense of humour and sense of design, both of which show in his work.  Check it out if you can.

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Get Fuzzy, Canada Style

Bucky and Satchel of Get Fuzzy spent this week and last in Halifax and Antigonish.  It’s nice to see intelligent and honest Canada jokes (in American entertainment) that don’t resort to beer, Celine Dion, and “Eh” jokes.  Go give ‘em a read and see why Darby Conley’s strip is one of the best in the papers today.

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Boff!  Zapp!  Gloosh!

Brett Lamb is a local Toronto cartoonist whose blog I visit regularly—today he links to me and has some very kind words!

Brett, I assure you there’s nothing to be jealous of.  Besides, you get the joy of being able to sign your name with the onomatopoeic BLAMB! which has a coolness factor surpassed only by comic artist Stephen Platt, who of course, can sign his name SPLATT!

Go check out some of Brett’s comics.  They’re blambtastic.

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Some Designy-Type Things

Okay, designers—prove your worth with this visual quiz: Arial or Helvetica?

Also, check out the gorgeous designy-type gifts at 9th Exhibition.  Lots of cool stationery, housewares, and vintage toys!

Designing any logos recently?  Need some inspiration?

This site seems to collect old British tv logos and, for some reason, recreates the retro tv graphics in flash.

And finally, some photos of Toronto.  (look hard enough and you can even see where I work)

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Wheeze!

I haven’t been updating the Sketchbook Journal lately, waiting for better inspiration I suppose.  But the last week of my life pretty much looks like this anyhow:

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A Calvinist Hermitage

Bill Watterson is unique for several reasons, not the least of which is his adament refusal to merchandise his strip Calvin & Hobbes (The strip is about a stuffed tiger for chrissakes!).  But when Watterson retired at his prime, at the height of his strip’s success, he pulled a J.D. Salinger and up and disappeared.  A recent story in the Cleveland Scene suggests that not much has changed for Chagrin Falls’ most famous recluse.  If anything, the cartoonist is even more private now.

The writer of the article mentions that it is rumoured that Watterson burns every oil painting he does upon its completion, fully adhering to the adage “the first 500 paintings are always just practice”.  I hope this is true if only because it adds to the crazy hermit image that I find so appealing about Watterson (and all hermits for that matter).  Even if it isn’t true I love that such a rumour even exists.

“Y’hear about old Bill Watterson?  Folks say he went mad up on that hill.  Say he done killed a man.  Say he wears nothing but crinoline, eats plastic, and talks to the ghost of his dead mule Willoughby.  Say he’s never been the same since his boy done got caught peeing on all them trucks.”

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Rasta-fy Him By About 10%

Last week was Mickey Mouse’s 75th birthday.  According to the NY Times, that doesn’t mean much for Walt’s pocketbook.

Mickey-related ephemera used to account for 50% of Disney’s consumer products.  It now accounts for less than 40% and is steadily dropping. He’s now outsold by a certain ursine hunny-muncher named Pooh.

Disney really shouldn’t be surprised.  Ever since they turned Mickey from a star attraction to a corporate symbol he’s lost all character.  Honestly, he didn’t have much to begin with, but he at least used to be an insecure, faltering boob.  Not exactly the ideal image of a corporate identity, but hey, it’s better than being boring.

Mickey should take a page from the book of Spongebob—a successful commercial commodity who revels in his own stupidity and nerdiness!  The committees behind these things need to learn that these characters became popular on their own for a reason—they don’t need help being ‘cool’.  I never want to see another airbrushed Tasmanian Devil wearing sunglasses and a sports jersey striking a cool pose and holding a skateboard. 

“You’ve heard the expression ‘let’s get busy’? Well, this is a dog who gets ‘biz-zay!’ Consistently and thoroughly.”

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Y’know, Eunoia

No doubt this collection of word oddities was culled (not misconjugatedly) by a group of ultrarevolutionaries and subbookeepers who didn’t mind the overnumerousnesses of the uncopyrightable.

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I’ll Get You Next Time, Gadget!

Many TV shows have adopted the convention of having a character whose face we never see.  Home Improvement had the philosophizing Wilson.  The Powerpuff Girls have the buxom Sarah Bellum.  The Vera jokes on Cheers worked so well, they migrated directly to Frasier in the form of Maris…

But no other unseen character was quite as captivating as Inspector Gadget‘s Dr. Claw.  Well, friends, I’m here to tell you that your wait is over!  The face of Dr. Claw was actually revealed many years ago with his very own action figure.

Are you ready for it?  Prepare to be disappointed!

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Engrish as a Secont Languidge

For my birthday this weekend I received a charming little alarm clock in the shape of a robot.  Here’s what the box has to say:

A lovely robot clock with various exciting characters:

• When the alarm time is on, the robot will be shaking along with the music rhythm.
• Lifting the left arm up & down for volume control
• The impressive illusion on the head gives the robot an alive feature.

Robot clock is definitely something you can not move your eyes on it by a glance.  It’s a perfect gift for every boy and man.

Sorry, ladies!

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Cartooning for Civilized Persons in This Modern Age

I’m stuck at home with the flu, but when I stepped out to take a quick run to the drugstore, I couldn’t help but pop my head in the nearby comic store.  Besides, I’m sick, and I could use some reading material…

I managed to pick up a copy of Joe Matt’s Fair Weather, but more interestingly, I found a musty old first edition from 1926, “How to Draw Cartoons” by Clare Briggs.

The book has a sparce handful of actual cartoons by Briggs, which by today’s standards are remarkably unfunny, but I’m finding that the text of the book with its dry, almost scientific tone, is quite funny in itself.  Observe this passage on coming up with an idea:

The idea should be of general interest.  For instance, if the idea dealt with eating, it would be of immediate interest to everyone because we are all required to eat.  Indeed, it is said that we spend about one-fourth of the entire national income on food.  The same pertinency would be true of clothes because we all have to buy and wear raiment of some sort.

And this paragraph reads like a flat-out parody of the language of the 1920s:

The grand old man of cartooning is Frederick Opper--or F. Opper, as the nestor of our profession prefers to sign his drawings.  He has been drawing steadily for more than forty years, but has never been left behind in the forward procession.  Opper is foremost a satirist.  His work has been a wonderful example of the ridiculous cartoon, fully as effective as the lampooning cartoons of Davenport.  He knows the way to get under the skin; his has been the art of pictoral sarcasm.  Opper handles his pen in a way to obtain loose and broad effects.  He has always been economical in his lines.  Perhaps this accounts, in a measure at least, for his amazingly prodigious output.  It has seemingly been nothing for Opper to draw a daily cartoon and turn out a full page depicting the misfortunes of Happy Hooligan, the terrible kick that “Hee Haw and Her Name Was Maud” carried in her heels or the doings of that gallant pair, Alphonse and Gaston.

Of course, he doesn’t show any examples, so his florid descriptions of this artwork, I suppose, was all that was needed to teach this fine art back in 1926!

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Jesus Christ, Not Again!

Usually when Johnny Hart finds himself under fire it’s for the obvious Christian allusions and prelection in his comic strip B.C..  I don’t remeber there being any cavemen in the bible, but I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about.

However, with this strip he’s caused quite a stir in that some believe the word ‘SLAM’ and the cresent moons refer to Islam.  The Washington Post has the story.

Hart claims it was just bathroom humour.  “Farts are stinky?  Get it?” But considering he seems to wipe his ass with Judaism in this Easter strip, I question his definition of “bathroom humour.”

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