No. 63 – A Graphic Memoir Cometh
Practice not caring
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There have been some setbacks my friends. I won’t bore you with that… this time. But I think I’m finally back in the saddle with regards to working on LIFE’S WORK as GRAPHIC MEMOIR! True, these are very rudimentary and tentative dippings-in-of-the-toes in my sketchbook. But STILL.
For those of you who aren’t familiar, Life’s Work: A Visual Memoir was a show I had in June of 2022 concerning my mother’s Lewy Body dementia. It consisted of paintings, memoir comics, and an installation. When the show was over my idea was to immediately start work on a graphic memoir using the same material, fleshing out the story. This would entail more scenes from my childhood as they relate to my relationship with my mother, and how that impacted my role as her caregiver when her dementia became apparent. But funny ole’ life had other things in store for me, as sometimes happens to pretty much everyone. I was forced to accept that I wasn’t going to be a highly functioning art-producing machine for the foreseeable future (and it wasn’t easy).
I have two sketchbooks for Life’s Work: the first was dedicated to working stuff out for the show last June, and No. 2 is for work toward the future graphic memoir. I haven’t really kept sketchbooks since I was in art school 35 years ago—I try now and again because I feel like I’m supposed to, but it never sticks. But keeping a sketchbook leading up to Life’s Work: A Visual Memoir was fruitful because I really did have a lot of exploring I needed to do. And I knew a sketchbook No. 2 would be necessary for the graphic memoir to work out how the thing is going to look.
I thought I was commencing work in sketchbook No. 2 last fall, but it was a false start and I was pulled away due to the previously-hinted-at setbacks. You can see my tentative first attempts—my pregnant mother with Amy Winehouse legs—in sketchbook No. 2 here:
A couple of weeks ago, I quite unexpectedly started working in No. 2 again. Why I was suddenly able to immerse myself in sketchbook No. 2 once more, I can’t say. Maybe my bandwidth is broadening; maybe it’s something in the stars. Granted, these are humble beginnings. Lynda Barry suggests that if you don’t know what to draw, just draw a spiral to keep your pen moving until something comes to you. I approached the sketchbook in a similar way this time around, only instead of drawing a spiral I was painting the words of the memoir in ink until I felt like painting an image. It didn’t matter what the image was. I thought, just keep writing the words out… that’s something at least. I found that writing it out this way helped me remember details about the past that had previously remained hidden.
These pages are not what the graphic memoir will look like. Not that I know what it’ll look like! As I’ve learned from a wise friend—Jill Margo again 🙂—you gain clarity from engagement. In other words, it’s only going to be through working in this sketchbook that I’ll be led to how I want things to look. Led to how the images want to be portrayed and laid out.
Also, I’m rusty! I reached a certain level of comfort and freedom with drawing during the work towards the show Life’s Work: A Visual Memoir. I repeat, a certain level of comfort—I’m no Phoebe Gloeckner. But I did attain a long sought-after and delicious state of not-caring to a degree, plus an ease born of simply engaging with it a lot.
I’m slowly making my way back to that ease. In What It Is, Lynda Barry writes about how she would discover that wonderful place of flow—where she’d draw for the pure joy of it, without worrying about it being “good”. Then she’d lose it, and forget how she ever got there… repeating this pattern for years. I experienced something similar when I started working in sketchbook No. 2. At a certain point I suddenly remembered: Oh hey! Don’t forget to NOT CARE! Don’t forget it’s okay to not know how things are going to go, and not have control! Don’t forget to stop pursuing so-called “perfection”! Don’t forget that’s how you make your best art anyway!
I wrote about this kind of not caring back in November 2021:
The writing for the graphic memoir was completed over a year ago and has been through a developmental edit. There’ll be more changes I’m sure, but the bulk of it is in place. What you see below is me painting out the words starting from page one, though I’ve taken a few liberties. For example “HE WAS GONE” writ large on the first page below is not in the manuscript… that was just me having an emotional outburst in the sketchbook. As I went along I started to stick closer to the manuscript because it seems foolish to muddy the waters at this point. If there are changes as I go along, they should be changes I’m actually intending to keep.
And so without further ado…drum roll… here are the eight pages I’ve produced in my sketchbook! WHAAAAAT? EIGHT?
If you click on the images they become somewhat larger.
STAY TUNED. I want to somehow work on both the graphic memoir and the journaling workshop I’ve been reading and taking notes for—more on that here, soon. Again, I mustn’t care how it all unfolds. If I try and make a plan, Gawd will surely laugh at me.
THREE THINGS
Nick Cave writes a newsletter called The Red Hand Files, and man is it good.
Elena Ferrante wrote some books that blew my mind (that’s a pseudonym—no-one knows for sure who she is, which drives me nuts). I finally bought My Brilliant Friend, the first of a four-part series called The Neapolitan Quartet, after hearing about her for years. Before I’d even finished, I couldn’t get a hold of the remaining three books fast enough. The writing is deceptively simple and plain-spoken, and more immediate and real-life-like than anything I’ve read. The characters live and breath. The pathos!
Lindy West on why The Whale is not a masterpiece.
❤ A WORD ABOUT LIKES AND COMMENTS ❤
I completely understand not having the mental energy to engage with all the social media input constantly racing toward your face—even to touch that little heart on Instagram is more than I can muster sometimes. But I thought I’d mention how much it does mean to see likes and comments on a post. If it’s not that you’re overwhelmed, but only that you don’t see the point to liking or commenting, please know that it matters! A LOT. After sending this newsletter out into the ether, every acknowledgement that it’s been noticed counts, and comments especially are much appreciated. Maybe we could even have a conversation.
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I’m not entirely sure what this cat is licking. A giant, rectangular, transparent sugar cube? Anyway, naughty kitty. I just want to say thank you to everyone who subscribes to Feed the Monster (I almost wrote Mobster), and most especially to the kind souls who’ve chosen to support me financially and emotionally by being paid subscribers. Approximately the price of a latté per month people, and it means so much! I do love writing FTM and my hope is that it’ll grow and prosper.
DO YOU HAVE ANY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS POST?
Have you ever had big plans to do something, only to have a fiery comet suddenly come hurtling toward your head and knock you to the ground?
Have you ever experienced letting go of your rigid expectations about how something should be, only to find that life is 1000 times better that way?
Kisses! 😘
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Listen to my interview with Sheryl MacKay on CBC’s NxNW here (starts ten minutes in). It’s all about Life’s Work: A Visual Memoir
Buy my Collage Class (a one-hour prerecorded download)
Buy my book 100 Days of The Artist is Present
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Katy's last paragraph is exactly how I feel.
Every time I read your newsletter or see what you're working on, I feel like I've had the privilege of glimpsing something meaningful. Really looking forward to this new project.
hi there Betty Ann. As always, I am touched deeply by your post today. Your transparency is much appreciated in this image-managed glazed over world. Brava. Keep going with the graphic memoir. It's alive...