It Is Apparently Scotts Day
Ideally I’d have a third Scott to talk about, but we’ll make do with two.
- The thing about that photo up there? It was taken about eight months after I first met Scott McCloud, and he was as old then as I am now. He pretty much looks the same, but I’ve definitely got more grey than I did then. It’s maybe not the best photo of McCloud to use, because as anybody that knows McCloud in person (as opposed to via his works) knows that he’s not a solitary creature; he’s half of the indivisible pair known as Scott and Ivy.
Whether you look back at them as little baby Scott and Ivy (photo by Scott’s Aunt Pat) or as they are today (photo by Lisa Corson for the New York Times), they are mad crazy in love and it’s not possible to separate them in your brain. All of which is to say, Happy Birthday to the youngest fifty-five year old I know. You taught (and continue to teach) us a new way to look at the world and the art we love.
Also, weirdly, searching for pictures of you on Google results in a considerable number of hits for Bernadette Peters. What’s up with that?
- You love Scott C, right? His paintings (especially the Great Showdowns) are whimsical and full of heart; I’ve got a couple of them on my walls at home and I love them. His books (art books, children’s books) are even more so; C’s world is one where there is no malice, only misunderstanding, and even that can be resolved by staring at your opponent with smiles on your faces.
He may have hit a career best in one of his most recent pieces — the enormous paean to Mad Max: Fury Road reduces the murderous action of that movie to a casual mid-afternoon gathering, where everyone is just in such a relaxed good mood; it’s the exact opposite of the heavy despair that pervaded much of the movie and yet it’s perfect, goshdarnit. It’s also provided the basis for a peek into Mr C’s methods and approach to painting — check out the process writeup he did, showing the evolution from sketches to final painting. It’s gorgeous.
Spam of the day:
Il est dégueulasse. (désolé je n’avais vraiment pas d’autre mot pour le coup)
D’accord, vous allez devoir être plus précis.
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