Nostalgia sets in early
I made this comic last year for the Metro Best of Auckland issue. I approached this task with some ambivalence – my novel was up for the best-of lists and I was already bracing myself for the scores of omissions. And no, it didn’t make it onto the Metro best books list. But I set about collating my favourite things about Auckland all the same – scrumping free fruit, seeing the steam punks at MOTAT, watching the black swans fight and sing like oboes. And – of course – taking the ferry to Devonport, which always makes me feel like I’m off to Melbourne.
Anyway, to explain the title of this blog post, my husband has been offered a job in Wellington (he hasn’t got the paperwork yet, I’m probably jinxing him) and it looks like we may be leaving Auckland at the end of the year. I’m going to be sad leaving, and the endless summer is not making it any easier. I will miss the multiculturalism and the amazing beaches. I will miss all my friends I’ve made, and the growing sense that this is an international city. I will miss the electric trains that have been promising to come ever since we arrived almost 7 years ago. Of course Wellington is a great city and I loved living there in the past, particularly before I had children and I could go to all the bars and bands and restaurants…I’ve got lovely friends there…you can’t beat it on a good day… but… but…
The best is yet to come, right?
Collaborations
This week it was my dad’s birthday and my sister Melissa had this idea that we should make a comic in which his three children had grown up to be scientists, just like him.
In real life my sister is an artist and academic, my brother is a furniture designer and I – well, you know what I am. My dad held out the most hope for my sister going into science – she had the most aptitude. But even she abandoned chemistry and biology after sixth form in favour of art.
Can you tell who did what? My sister wrote and inked the first page, except for the cat, and I wrote the second page. My brother still owes us his one.
In other news: I got a lovely review for The Fall of Light here. Yay! And I thought it had disappeared already. And Rachel Fenton posted a funny comic about my session this week with Dylan here.
Tonight, tonight!
Tonight I am very honoured to be asking Dylan Horrocks questions about his new book, Incomplete Works. I’m a big fan of his, and last night I reread Hicksville and was blown away once again by how brilliant it was. Incomplete Works is a wonderful collection of short comics and fragments – in turn autobiographical, playful, funny, intelligent, moving – and always beautifully rendered. You can read a proper review here.
Come along if you’re in Auckland – it kicks off at 6pm at the Central Library. There will be food, wine, and hopefully some good questions from the chair (better go finish writing them).
The Alison Bechdel fan comic
The latest Metro Magazine comic is out now, so I can show you my one from last month – the comic that I pressed on Alison Bechdel when she came to town.
It all unfolded as I drew it – I handed Alison a pile of my comics, blushing and gushing, and she assured me that she wouldn’t throw them in the recycling. The next time I went to see her talk, one week later, I took Jonathan and he lined up to get another one of my books signed. Alison told him that she really enjoyed my comics (squeal!) and this is what she drew:
Here is a sneak preview of the new Metro comic – this time I’m grappling with neighbourhood inequality and crazy Auckland house prices.
I feel bad that I’m not drawing any new comics for my blog but I’m crazily busy trying to get my Katherine Mansfield book into shape. If only I could clone myself so I could get armies of me working on all my projects. Maybe I should just get up earlier in the morning. Sigh.
Let Me Be Frank #5 coming!
A few days ago I got my first copy of Let Me Be Frank issue 5 in the post from Pikitia Press in Melbourne, Australia. I gathered together all my memoir comics, the ones that charted my childhood and coming-of-age, I coloured them in watercolour, and I compiled them into a 36-page booklet. ‘What are you doing there, Mum?’ Gus asked. ‘We’re dancing,’ I said. ‘You look like you’re fighting.’ ‘Well, dancing is a kind of fighting.’
This time round it’s going to be a bit more expensive than issues 1-4 – it’ll be sold for $10 each – but it is in full colour! On recycled paper! And it comes individually signed.
I tried a few options for the cover, and one of my outtakes ended up in the inside back cover:
I’ve drawn my sister looking up adoringly at me; in reality she looks a little like she wants to rip my throat out. We’re very good friends now but I was an evil older sister back then. Alluring and violent.
Anyway, I will let you know when you can buy them! I still have to make my site all fancy so that it has a little shop… or maybe I’ll make that etsy/felt shop I’ve been promising all these years.
And in other news, next Tuesday I’ll be asking the world-famous comics legend Dylan Horrocks questions about his new book, Incomplete Works. It’s a fantastic anthology of his short, sometimes unfinished comics. Come along if you’re in Auckland – it’s at the Central Library at 6pm, 1 April. There’ll be refreshments and books to buy.
Meeting Alison
This is the trailer for The Curioseum – what do you think? I was pretty excited to see all my illustrations animated, albeit in a low-fi way.
Also, I gave Alison Bechdel my Metro comic, the one with her in it.
She seemed pretty excited to see herself there, and she accepted my bundle of Let Me Be Frank comics, but I think I scared her with my enthusiasm. When I saw her at the NZ comics panel the next day she looked a little guarded and apologised for not reading my comics yet. I told her it was ok – she could throw them in the recycling if she liked – but I hope she doesn’t. I felt a bit sorry for her – she probably has half-crazed cartoonists foisting comics on her all the time and she’s too nice a person to tell us to piss off. We view her as a good luck charm, a portal to our own future success. We want a little piece of her to emulsify our own private spells. But she’s just another person on holiday who’d rather not have to pay for extra baggage at the airport.
The Curioseum & Writers Week
Next Friday (7 March) I’m going to be in Wellington, taking part in the Writers Week Festival. Of course my main priority is to catch a glimpse of Alison Bechdel (maybe I’ll be on the same plane with her, like I was with Morrissey!) but I’ll also go to the launch of The Curioseum, which I designed and illustrated last year. Right now the Te Papa digital team are busy making animations out of some of my drawings, which is super cool.
To tell you a bit more about The Curioseum – it’s a book designed for 8-12 year olds, and some of New Zealand’s best children’s authors have written stories inspired by objects at Te Papa. I got to riff off writing by legends like Joy Cowley, Margaret Mahy, Bill Manhire and Elizabeth Knox to name a few. I’m going to be running an illustration workshop for kids at 11am on Sunday 9 March, which is free.
Another thing I’ll be doing down in Wellington is taking part in the Reading for Readers session. My role is talk about reading comics. I’m going to decode them for novices, break down the genres, and enthuse about some of my favourite graphic novels and comics.
Anyway, if any of you are there, come up and say hi! I may look stand-offish but I really do want to meet you.
Swallows and Amazons
It’s nearing the end of February, which means that the latest Metro is out. Which also means that I can post my comic from the January/February issue. This one was about my sister, Melissa Laing. Here is a peek at the exhibition she made the boat for. Scroll down and you’ll be able to see photos of the very beautiful boat. Actually there’ve been lots of interesting comics lately about being in Australian detention centres, the theme Melissa explores – here’s one I read that I found affecting.
Here’s a little sneak peek at my comic for this month – it’s a shameless homage to Alison Bechdel, in which I declare my devotion to her.
She’s actually coming to Auckland too, for this event. So I have two opportunities to embarrass myself in front of her.
I’ve been a little slack at posting new comics lately because I’ve been too busy and also I’ve been putting together my Let Me Be Frank #5 issue. I sent it off to print – I will let you know when it is published. But it’s all going to be in glorious techni-watercolour. Albeit messy watercolour.
Music vs books
This is a comic that appeared in the December issue of Metro. It came out before Lorde won two grammies, hence the out-of-date prize in her hand. I went to see Lorde perform last Wednesday and she was extraordinary – so musical,such a compelling stage presence, great stage banter – and she’s only 17. I glimpsed Eleanor Catton at the same concert – she was there with her boyfriend, not mobbed or pushed over like Lorde would’ve been, which was curious since she’s just as much a super star. I don’t think writers can become famous like pop stars. You can’t ingest their work in 3 minutes. The emotional hit isn’t so immediate – you have to read and read and feel it build up, wash over you, drag you under. Does it drag you deeper? You don’t respond to literature with your body, in a crowd, your arms in the air or draped over your friends, sweat-swapping and singing along. The girls behind me at the Lorde concert knew all the words but they couldn’t sing in tune. When I tell people I’m a writer they often ask me if I’ve read The Luminaries. Yes, I say. It was beautifully written. It got really exciting towards the end. Usually they own it but haven’t started it. We can’t have a conversation about it yet – I can urge them to read it – but they say they have to wait until they go on holiday because it’s too long.
I just finished a memoir about punk musician Richard Hell and he drew it to a close at 1985. That’s when I became a writer, he said. Writers lives are boring. In some ways I found his life before he became a musician more interesting. Then he had intense relationship with his school friend Tom Miller and they ran away to Florida and wrote poetry together. Once he became a musician it was all about drugs and the girls he laid. I kind of hate reading descent-into-addiction stories, although I read them over and over. Today Philip Seymor Hoffman died with a needle in his arm. I loved Philip Seymour Hoffman as an actor. He had that wrecked, charismatic, going-to-seed intensity about him. He was wonderful in so many movies. Happiness. Capote. The Talented Mr Ripley. Synedoche. When he appeared you knew the movie had to be great. I see that he had a girlfriend and three children, that he lived in the West Village. No, Philip! I want to say, just like I groaned as I read Richard Hell. Why did you do it? What was so bad about your life that you needed to escape from it? But it’s too late to ask now. And Richard Hell was one of the lucky ones.
Invisible monsters
Sometimes I feel like looking after small children is like being trapped in a surrealist movie. For instance, this morning Violet drew all over her legs.
Her: ‘I can’t go to kindy with tattoos!’
Me, with a flannel: ‘You’re the tattooed lady’
Her: ‘No, I’m not a lady, ladies eat mashed potatoes. I’m a man. Men eat beans and vegetables.’
Me: ‘OK’
Anyway, thank you for your generous response to my week of domestic comics! They have been fun to draw. I think I notice things a bit more acutely when I know I have to write/draw about them. Noticing is good.
LET ME BE FRANK 