newyorkette

Just experimenting with my kraft paper again. This is me, in my all-purpose, food-catching, ink-barrier apron.

(click on the image for larger version)

I took my allergy pill, my allergy eye drops, and my nose spray and went to the park, darn it! Can’t be at the mercy of every passing seasonal discomfort, after all. (There are so many of them! As far as I’m concerned, the world is usually uninhabitable already without global warming! So, recycle already! Ha ha.)

Got to the Great Lawn, and drew my buddy, Crawford (yes, the great cartoonist!) while he was doing watercolors (much nicer than mine). I used my color pencils and my kraft sketchbook for the first time since buying them last year. I found the white and greys hard to use when trying to represent the milky, streaky grey-white-blue sky. Couldn’t finish the sketch due to having to part ways, but got this much done. Which is better than nothing! And I even had a couple of caption ideas for a new cartoon on my way back across the park. More on that TK.

(Opera glasses, by Carolita Johnson)

It’s not often I get to the opera, because, hey! it’s expensive, right? Luckily I was offered the chance to see the opening night of Puccini’s Madama Butterfly, gratis, this past Thursday. You lucky ducky, you’re thinking. Unfortunately I accepted the tickets on the assumption that my flu symptoms had abated, and halfway through the performace I was overtaken by a relapse and obliged to leave. So I plan on using the New York City Opera’s very democratic (practically socialist!) “Opera for All” program to buy myself a ticket to see the other half, as soon as I’ve done coughing!

Madama Butterfly opened with giant Japanese sliding doors lit to look like they were made of glass, or ice. A good metaphor for Cio-Cio San’s world whose fragility will be made evident by Pinkerton’s selfish, horny stomping around in her life. Clearly Valenti’s Pinkerton was channeling blue-balled frat-boy. “I’m aflame over her!” on the over-titles translates in modern terms as, “OMG! She’s so hot!” There were moments when he was kneeling to Cio-Cio San in his foreplay, singing with his pelvis gently pumping that familiar way of boyfriends who wake you up in the morning, with, let’s just say, ideas. It was pretty obvious where Pinkerton was coming from, and yet it was still jarring when the hubris moment came as he toasted is “real” wife-to-be, even as he awaited Cio-Cio San (his actual wife-to-be, but only in the unreal land of Japan). The rest of the first act showcased Pinkerton as the unwitting cad. (Because cads rarely set out to be cads, do they?)

The idea that one can go to Japan and do things that don’t “count” anywhere else — as Pinkerton does — is a theme I’m familiar with, having modelled there. Only twenty years ago it was a common phenomenon to see models arrive in Tokyo, find themselves instantly rich and adored for their Western beauty and simply go quite mad, behaving as if they think nothing they say or do will have any consequences in their “real” country back west. It’s a form of temporary insanity, and to see Pinkerton do the same is to understand him as a human being under the influence. The only thing I could possibly reproach James Valenti’s Pinkerton is that his voice sometimes didn’t project well — but only when he was not facing the audience. It’s possible that the acoustics in the NYCO are at fault. Anytime anyone did not face the audience they were hard to hear over the orchestra. Perhaps the conductor should take note.

Shu-Ying Li’s first appearance on stage as Miss Butterfly nearly brought tears to my eyes. Actually it did bring tears to my eyes. But that’s probably because I had a fever — normally tears almost come to my eyes. Still, why begrudge Shu-Ying Li the slightest tear? Her voice carried through the music and the stage space in the organic way a whale’s song cuts through the waves — there was something not just operatic about her voice. It’s a natural sound that Shu-Ying Li has, something visceral, which is rare in sopranos, who are often mostly artifice. I could only ask her to be a little more fluent with her geisha-like movements, which seemed to come only now and then as an afterthought.

The Gonze’s first appearance seemed to run into a little technical difficulty with his fan-opening technique which resulted in making him seem that much more blusterous, which was fine.

All I ask of this opera is for the audience to lighten up a little! There are moments when I was chuckling at the dialogue and noticed I was the only one. Yes, opera has plenty of tragedy in it, but every tragedy has its laughs. All the better to contrast with the tears when the moment comes.

NYTimes’ review of Madama Butterfly, same night, here.

(image: carolita johnson)

There are quite a few of us cartoonists with blogs out there, but when we’re appointed “cartoonist of the month” at the New Yorker’s blogroom, our sometimes dilatarious, slacker ways vanish into thin air, and the cartoonist of the month really steps up to the plate in ways I suspect even the appointed didn’t realize was possible! Have a look! If you ever wanted to ask a cartoonist a personal question, it’s highly likely it’s answered as a matter of course by a cartoonist of the month. It’s also a lot of fun to say “cartoonist of the month.”

Cartoonist of the month:
January: Mick Stevens
February: Michael Maslin

This is part of a little project I’ve been experimenting with in watercolor. Particularly appropriate for today’s weather!

I try to make it to Jason Polan’s quite famous Taco Bell Drawing Club whenever I can, but it’s not often enough!
Here are a couple of my very silly ball-point pen doodles from the last meet-up. My inspiration was New York’s vermin, which I assume to be possessed of rather degenerate character traits to match their lifestyles. And if you object to my classifying squirrels as vermin, just call up the ASPCA, who I called once when I caught a vandalous squirrel that I wanted them to pick up and book. They said they did not take care of “vermin.”

My classification of vermin mostly extends to critters who savagely violate my window boxes. Like that squirrel I caught two years ago. Boy, was he pissed! (It was a humane trap, don’t worry! And he learned his lesson, becoming much more respectful of my window boxes after his release!) (The lesson was reinforced from time to time by the aid of a garden hose I hooked up to my kitchen sink, near the window. You don’t want to mess with a cartoonist.)

Here is the Taco Bell Drawing Club’s blog: drawingattacobell.blogspot.com

Go vote! Make history! This is a big one!

If you’re not sure where to vote, check this link, here.

I won’t be exactly roughing it, as the slogan goes. But I’ll be working!
(Click on the pic for more info.)

I had forgotten about this till now, when I got to the last page of my magazine this week, but here you go — my TNY Cartoon Caption Contest appearance, with the winning caption by Mr. Phelps (not related to the Mr. Phelps of “Good morning, Mr. Phelps, your mission, if you decide to take it…”): “I’ll walk, you shovel.”

There’s nothing like selling a clichéed cartoon image with a fresh, unheard-of caption! That’s a cartoonist’s favorite pastime!
This attempt was rejected this week. (Another cartoon was bought, so I don’t feel too bad.) Perhaps my caption was not as unheard of as I’d hoped! (sigh!) It will be resubmitted with another caption someday, have no doubt. I’m very proud of my cows! Ive never drawn cows before!

(A mannequin is helpful, but a real live person, like me, is better!

I have a second life as a mannequin. A living, breathing mannequin called a “fit model.” It’s a fun job most of the time, because it not only relies on my bodily measurements, but on my technical knowledge of patternmaking as well. My “day job” is helping technical designers make sure that a designer’s clothes fit right for who they’re designed for. I’m a size 6, but we fit models come in all shapes and sizes, from petite to 18W, even including kids and pregnant women.

So you see, there’s a fit model out there for everyone! (And contrary to what some people seem to think, one size fit model does not think she’s better than another size fit model — we’re all perfect for our size, which is why we get the big bucks! Get over your preconceptions, skinny-biased ladies!)

Anyway, the other day I received an endorsement from Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives Nancy Pelosi! An indirect one: I was told that one of the shirts I fit for a friend was purchased by her in every color! So, I guess I did my job right!

If you want to know what women are really fighting these days, have a look at the idealized body in this Prada animation. (This is not what a fit model looks like at all.)

Too bad I can’t use that $300 President Bush is trying to tuck into my bra to go buy something useful, like some brains for him! I will definitely be giving it to charity, even if it means eating rice and beans for a month. I cook a pretty mean rice n’ beans, anyway. Mmmm! I can’t wait!

Just like Mick Stevens, I’ve got my rejected Christmas cartoon dregs. This one is about the dregs of Christmas, actually. I was hoping to see it published sometime in February, in honor of all those who hang onto their Christmas trees for much too long.

I have another one which I’m going to try and preserve in aspic till next year.

Note: be careful how you get rid of your Christmas tree! Don’t do like this guy: Man throws self out window along with Christmas tree

(I don’t know what color this is, but this is the color of one of mine! It comes in ten colors.)

You may have noticed the new “adverlita” in the sidebar! (You have to be on newyorkette.com to see the sidebar.) It’s for Chico Bag, which I have just discovered. Adverlitas, I hasten to remind you, are unsollicited “ads” for things I appreciate, such as Heifer International, Mulchfest, and Opera Mini. Things I like and use or ascribe to or practice.

I like the Chico Bag, and find myself using them (I store two in my regular handbag) all the time, mostly when I’m on my way home and decide to spontaneously drop in at my local supermarket. The thing I like about them is that I’m not tempted to sling them over my shoulder, which usually results in a very sore shoulder. These bags are very comfortable to hold in the hand, or slip over the arm in a very twee way as one gets one’s metro card out of one’s pocket. They don’t dig into your hand the way plastic bags do. I hate that feeling!

My stash of canvas bags, which rarely see the light of day — even the pretty Whole Foods one and the stylish Fairway one — are very jealous. Is it my fault they’re too bulky to carry around in case I might need them?

NB: the only thing you have to remember is to unpack them from their little attached carry-sack (which comes with a key chain attachment, that’s how small they are when packed), before you get to the cashier, so your bags are open and ready to receive your groceries as they come down the conveyor belt. I always forget and annoy my cashier with my nervous fumbling.

If nothing else, check out the funny plastic bag monster video on their site!

Very, very silly.

(Click on the image for more information!)

Today and tomorrow, in all of New York’s boroughs! Bring your tree to any of the locations in the list, and feel good about recycling your Christmas tree! You might even be able to take home the mulch for your own use, if you choose one of the “chipping” sites (as opposed to the “drop-off only” sites.

Happy Mulchfest!

And to all a good night!

PS - if you still have gifts to buy and don’t know what to do, get a goat or a cow or a sheep for someone in the name of the person who already has everything, at Heifer International! You get a free e-card, too.

(Brighton Beach, August 2007)

There’s a reason for this repeat image above. I just read Norah Ephron’s “I feel bad about my neck,” and this is all I have to say: I will never feel bad about my neck. Not even if it one day hangs down to my knees. I want to be just like these ladies above. Notice, they are not only wearing bikinis — one is even wearing a tanga bottom! I think they’re beautiful, and I don’t think they feel bad about anything, except, possibly, their husbands’ necks.

In fact, if Norah were ever to hear about this comment of mine, I’ll be happy to make a gift to her of my Coney Island Venus, in honor of glorious, ageing womankind. It’s my favorite, but for a good cause, I’d part with her.

(That was my public service announcement to womankind. )

UPDATE: For some correspondence regarding this post (with name removed to protect the privacy of the correspondent) click here: Read the rest of this entry »

Tippi Hedren and Sean Connery, in “Marnie.”

Here is the B & W version:

Home sick, watching DVD’s, I always liked this scene from Hitchcock’s “Marnie,” when she’s got the safe open but can’t get her hand to steal the money in the safe and Sean Connery looms up behind her and says, “Go ahead and take it! It’s not stealing! What’s mine is yours!”

One thing I always noticed about the movie (besides Sean Connery’s overly plucked eyebrows) is all the beige’s and browns and yellows. If you look carefully, you’ll notice an uncanny, bright yellow theme going from the yellow getaway handbag, to the yellow fridge in Marnie’s mom’s house, to the yellow leather vest on Sean Connery’s father.

(I’d provide reference photos, but I simply paused the DVD and worked from the TV screen.)