PCOer John Jensen is to give an illustrated talk on the early work of cartoonist Rowland Emett, entitled The Eccentric Whimsicality of Mr. Emett, Inventor at the Cartoon Museum in London.

The talk is a tie-in with the exhibition Engines of Enchantment: The Machines and Cartoons of Rowland Emett which is at the museum until November 1.

John Jensen’s talk takes place on on September 16, from 6.30pm – 7.30pm. Entrance is £5, Concessions £4 and Friends of the Museum £3.

The Cartoon Museum, at 35 Little Russell Street, Bloomsbury, is open Tuesday-Saturday 10.30am to 5.30pm and Sundays 12pm to 5.30pm.

With the 2009 Ashes series fast approaching, the Chris Beetles Gallery in London is set to stage A Celebration of Cricket: From Ashes to Zooter

The exhibition runs from July 15 until August 8 and features cartoons, illustrations and watercolours from 200 years of cricket.

More than half the show will be devoted to cartoons. From Sir Len Hutton to Shane Warne, few cricketers of note have escaped the hawk-eye of the cartoonist. The show will feature Glen Baxter, above, Mark Boxer, Tony Husband, Jak, John Jensen, Larry, Nick Newman and many more. It will be opened by Sir Ian Botham, with 10 per cent of all opening night sales going to the charity Leukaemia Research

The Chris Beetles Gallery, at 8 and 10 Ryder Street, St James’s, London (nearest Tube Green Park or Piccadilly Circus) is open Monday to Saturday, 10am – 5.30pm. The gallery’s website can be found at www.chrisbeetles.com

Leslie Illingworth by Trog

PCOer John Jensen writes on cartoonists Wally Fawkes (Trog) and Leslie Illingworth:

Two great cartoonists were seen recently at Tim Benson’s Political Cartoon Gallery. One of them was dead, the other elderly but very much alive. Wally Fawkes ‘TROG’, a wonderful caricaturist, was paying his respects to an old friend, the late Leslie Illingworth (1902-79) whose drawings were on display in a new exhibition. Tim Benson’s book – Illingworth, political cartoons from the Daily Mail 1939-69 – was also making its debut.

TROG is no longer drawing and for the cruellest of reasons: his eyes have let him down. This is a tragedy for Wally and a loss to the many people who appreciate and love his skill. I’ve known his work since the early 50s and known him personally, but slightly, for more than forty years. Yet, in company with many people who ‘know’ Wally, I barely know him at all. He doesn’t mind making a display of himself when trumpeting his jazz, but when it comes to drawing he rarely puts in an appearance, refuses to make speeches let alone give a talk or lecture. When he does turn up he is invariably a quiet presence and, for some of us, far too modest. But that modesty doesn’t derive from uncertainty: Wally knows his worth, he just doesn’t shout about it. His qualities speak for him. Unlike his jazz,Wally’s drawing is not spontaneous nor is it laboured. Instead, his caricatures result from observation and analysis of his subjects: forensic dissections.

Three collections of his work have been published none of which do him justice though they are better than nothing. First, from Canada, Trog, the Cartoonist of the Year, Le Pavillon International de l’Humour, Montreal, 1976; The World of Trog, Robson Books, 1977, and finally, Trog, Forty Graphic Years, Fourth Estate 1987. All in black-and-white. All lacking colour! Colour is one of Wally’s strengths.

Leslie Illingworth would have been pleased Wally turned up for the occasion. They were old friends. Leslie is generally considered to be the last of the great pen-draughtsmen in the Punch, Victorian tradition. Sad, therefore, that none of his drawing for Punch appear in Tim Benson’s selection. This is not for the want of trying, but circumstances said No. Draper Hill a collector of Illingworth’s vintage originals, and author of the definitive James Gillray biography, died recently. He had been ill for quite a while and uncontactable. A future volume, perhaps, in due course? Leslie, like Wally, was a wonderful colourist. If Illingworth had a fault, and he had, it was that power and emotion were in thrall to his precise draughtsmanship. That said, it is the penwork, the superb scraper-board cartoons and his colour illustrations that remain to be admired in the pages of Punch and, when possible, collected.

Illingworth was the kindest of men. Too generous sometimes. His Welsh accent was beguiling and his huge bushy eyebrows were the only alarming thing about him.

The exhibition of cartoons by Leslie Illingworth continues at the Political Cartoon Gallery, 32 Store Street, London WC1E 7BS. You can contact them at 020 7580 1114 or info@politicalcartoon.co.uk.

You can read more of John Jensen’s contributions to Bloghorn here.

PCOer John Jensen watches a conversation with Posy Simmonds and Steve Bell and finds them to be cartoon chalk and cheese

Posy Simmonds and Steve Bell, both satirists but so different from each other and both so good, were brought together at Kings Place, London; the Guardian’s new glass and glister home.

Posy Simmonds at work, with not a computer to be seen

On stage in front of a full house in a modern theatre there was some amiable bumbling about. Drawings were not easily found, one was left at home. Posy leaning down to scrape sketches and sketchbooks from the floor. It was all comfortingly, mythically English.

Informally chaired by the Guardian art critic William Feaver, the event brought forth snippets of interest: Steve, for example, claimed he can’t invent characters. He must caricature, and fortunately politicians just present themselves. How does he do it? He Googles a lot, takes photos at party conferences, and of anything of interest anywhere, and the whole lot is piped onto CDs: “I’ll show you my family snaps if you like.”

Posy does invent. Brilliantly, of course. No caricatures. She is meticulous and possesses the sharpest eye for detail and ear for dialogue of any living person. Posy is like one of the nurses she sometimes draws in her strips, smiling and saying, “This won’t hurt a bit”, as the needle slips in deep. Her patients awake stunned to find a whole landscape peopled with characters of the artist’s imagination but who remind us of everybody we have ever met and more than a few we would cross the road to avoid.

Excerpt from Tamara Drewe © Posy Simmonds

She uses no computer. Reference material is is stored in Posy’s retentive memory but, as back up, much is filed away. Posy treasures many clothing catalogues so that if shoes from, say, the 70s are wanted they can be found with a simple indoor search. (Just great if you have the space.)

A miniaturist in drawing production, Steve thrashes and whacks about in his same-size-as-printed space using a sharp pen as the bluntest of instruments. His strip “If …” is drawn in the morning and “the Big One”, his political cartoon, during the afternoon.

Guardian Comment cartoon © Steve Bell

He claimed that that day’s deadline [the event was last Monday, April 6] was 7.30pm and he started work on his big political only by 6.30pm. That was pushing it a bit and I suspect is not entirely typical. However, it may help explain the occasional uneven nature of his work. When inspiration flags (not often) it shows, but when (usually) he is on form you can hear the cries of pain all the way from Whitehall. Posy’s work is leisurely, lucky woman, and probably timeless.

Steve’s voice, unsurprisingly, is resonant – good timbre – particularly when giving a maniacal cackle at something which amuses him. Posy, is quiet even when speaking but is also crystal clear. She is slim, was dressed smartly in a black trouser suit, as cool as you please. Red shoes. I don’t remember the colour of Steve’s shoes but his belly is potting nicely,
thank you.

Two great talents together on top of their form on one fine evening. The Guardian’s Kings Place entrance currently sports an exhibition of Posy’s drawings and strips. Go!

Link: Posy Simmonds speaks about Tamara Drewe

Following on from his look at the weird and wonderful work of Fletcher Hanks, PCOer John Jensen takes another trip back to the comic books of the 1930s and 1940s with the focus on his native Australia

“The Case of the Haunted Piecrust”, “Wocko the Beaut”, “Supa-Dupa Man”, “Speed Umplestoop” and “Tripalong Hoppity” – all of these and many more funnies fell out of the wonderfully zany mind of cartoonist Emile Mercier.

A panel from “Wocko the Beaut”, courtesy of Lambiek.net

Mercier was born in New Caledonia in 1901. Twenty years later, in Australia, he began his career as a freelance cartoonist. During the Second World War, the bulk of his work, the comics, appeared in an array of Frank Johnson Publications. Johnson encouraged Australian talents and his publications developed a character and liveliness which set them apart – sometimes for the better, sometimes not – from the many US imports which which were dumped in Australia, usually as ships’ ballast, during the war.

Due to wartime paper restrictions, Johnson was forced to reduce the size of some offerings: Star Pocket Comics ran for at least 14 issues, successful in spite of some issues being printed on brown wrapping paper. The same paper shortage brought forth a decree that there would be no new regular runs of comic books.

Johnson resorted to cunning to deal with the situation. His regular characters continued to appear each month but each issue bore a new title: King Comics, Amazing Comics, Gem Comics, Slick Comics, Bonzer Comics, Flash Comics and more. When imagination failed, the word “new” was tacked to an old title and the process began over again. Mercier’s work appeared in most of these issues.

Mercier was a people watcher but the people he watched, ordinary everyday Australians, were transformed into creatures of his eccentric universe. Occasionally in the background of a cartoon someone would be walking around with springs on his or her feet, or on stilts or jumping around on pogo sticks. His characters’ feet quite often sagged at a ninety-degree angle half way along the sole of the foot. Dogs, cats and boozy types abounded. Mercier’s cast list was very Australian.

I met Mercier just after the war, and I asked him for his definition of a good cartoon. “A good cartoon, sonny, is one that is accepted, published and paid for,” he said. You might argue with this definition but for me it was heart-lightening.

A few months after our meeting I took my first comic strip, “Mary Mixup, Female Spy Terrific” (by Jon J) to Frank Johnson Publications where, to my amazement it was accepted and published. My mother, who hated comics, wouldn’t have them in the house. When I took home my copy of Gem Comics No.27 with “Mary Mixup” within, Mum took it, tore it and threw it away.

John Jensen’s “Chester Nutte” was published in Gem Comics, circa 1947

In spite of this, other titles followed, such as “Chester Nutte”, a time traveller, above, and “Snooper McDroople, Ace Newspaper Reporter”. Mercier’s drawing never influenced me but a little of his humour rubbed off. The strips improved a bit over the twelve months I worked on them and there were strips for other comics publishers too, but “Mary Mixup” was an abomination.

Frank Johnson wanted to withhold payment because the drawings were so bad. I remembered what Mercier had told me, and squeaked: “If the drawings are good enough to publish, they are good enough to be paid for.” A voice from a neighbouring office said, “Y’can’t argue with that, Frank.”

Johnson paid up – eventually. I think he was so traumatised by my demand that he continued to use my work, and pay for it … eventually.

Bloghorn says click J for Jensen.

The PCO: Great British cartoon talent
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There are cartoon fossickers who dig and delve among old comics – I’m talking American comics, circa late 1930s and early 1940s, looking for, and still finding, strange treasures and curios. Like, for example, Stardust, Fantomah, Buzz Crandall of the Space Patrol and, finally, Big Red McLane of the Northwoods. The link between them is the late Fletcher Hanks, cartoonist, strip artist and, according to R. Crumb, “a twisted dude”. He should know.
The comic Stardust features in the Collected works of Fletcher Hanks reviewed here by PCOer John Jensen.

Gary Panter, an American illustrator and a former denizen of the psychedelic era but now a hugely successful graphics person wrote the following for the jacket blurb of the collection I am about to review for you.

“Fletcher Hanks was this old guy back in the old days who made magic jellybeans. The magic jellybeans looked like comics, but they were magic jellybeans.”

If you ever see the strips you’ll know that a hammer has smacked a nail firmly on its head. Stardust is the biggest jellybean of them all. One more quotation, this from one of the strips, written just prior to Germany starting off on World War Two:

“Stardust [he lives on his own asteroid] whose vast knowledge of interplanetary science has made him the most remarkable man that ever lived, devotes his abilities to crime-busting …”

In one story, our super-sized, booming voiced hero uses a boomerang ray; a fusing ray, his reducing ray and, finally, his transporting ray. In other strips he makes himself invisible, travels faster than the speed of light and has an active anti-gravity ray, a magnetic ray, a suspending ray and a disintegrating ray – the ray doesn’t disintegrate but other things do!

His mental power stops thugs from shooting at him while, also under his belt – you should see his belt! – there is an attractor beam and an agitator ray. The villains, always grotesque and quite mad, are invariably captured after which they meet their hideous eternal variegated dooms. No doubt Stardust celebrates victory with his very own Hip Hip Hoo Ray.

Fantomah, the Mystery Woman of the Jungle, had many edgy, disconcerting powers of her own, including the ability when cross, of turning her face into a skull. Very useful in a supermarket queue I would guess.

Another curious point about the anthology is that the Afterword is a strip written and drawn by Paul Karasik, who met and was slightly shocked by the artist’s son who apparently hated his Dad. Hanks was allegedly a drunkard, a liar and, to cap it all a deadbeat who froze to death on a park bench. He also painted ducks in a pond.

The Comics of Fletcher Hanks “I SHALL DESTROY ALL CIVILIZED PLANETS!” was recently published by Fantagraphic Books. If you’re a Knockout or Beano fan you might not care for, or about, this extraordinary gathering of super surreals but if, like me, you grew up with American comics you’ll be full of beans. Jellybeans.

The PCO: Great British cartoon talent

PCO member John Jensen offers a memory of things at Punch magazine. This article was originally published in the Foghorn magazine, which the PCO publishes.

Punch died in 1992. Towards the end of its life the atmosphere in the art department was bright, lively and smiling. I thought such camaraderie was inspiring amid all the rumours of imminent collapse. Until, that is, I realised the entire art-department was working with opened tins of Cow gum on the desks and tables.

Cow gum was an essential item for pasting down the pages in those pre-software days when these things were done by hand. Cow gum was necessary but Cow gum was glue. Tins of it were always open in the art room. Whether the art room knew it or not they were glue-sniffing all day long. Happy daze.

The atmosphere had been quieter, more sedate – less Cow gum – except for occasional brief outbursts of either rage or pleasure when Bill Hewison, was Art Editor. A bearded man of fiercely held beliefs constrained within a polite, conservative manner contrasted nicely with his sidekick, Geoffrey Dickinson, a quietly funny guy who heralded the Swinging Sixties with a cover for Time magazine, the payment for which allowed him to buy his home. Punch payments never matched that.

A third party, sitting hatted, hunched and shirt-sleeved in the office, personally saturnine and professionally ubiquitous: Michael Heath, looking, as always, younger than his experience. Physically, Bill and Geoffrey reminded me of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, but the imagined similarity ended there. Bill’s humour, when it surfaced, was so dry it crackled like tinder.

Punch had its institutions: its weekly lunches and its outings. At the lunches the editor would sit at the head of the famous Punch table overseeing guests and Punch regulars. As a general rule, although there were exceptions, cartoonists would sit below the salt leaving the writers to do most of the talking, at which they were very good and very practised. The pen-and-ink boys tended to mutter and snigger among themselves.

The late and truly missed Alan Coren, more jovial, bouncy even, bursting with words and ideas had to get the chat rolling, along with the coffee and cigars. Billy Connolly – the Big Yin – a welcome guest, was heard to assert that sexual fantasies were fine until you turned them into reality when they were, unfortunately, found to be disappointing. A silence followed this pronouncement. No one had the bottle to ask what those fantasies were. And how did he know? These days he would have been pounded with questions and answers would have been demanded.

The outings were different: sometimes a trip up-and-down the Thames with Wally Fawkes gigging it for the evening. Or maybe a visit to France, or maybe a plush hotel in the country, the name of which I can’t remember – I don’t keep a diary and I have no memory for names or details: useless, really! Pat, my wife, on seeing a coach filling up with elderly ladies and gents, stooping and making serious use of walking sticks said jokingly, “I expect that’ll be the Punch outing.” It was.

However, not everybody was old, just some. (If Punch hadn’t died I’d now be one of those old geezers.) Among the now deceased is the “Matisse of cartooning”, Michael ffolkes. Michael was fond of his booze but, what was not then realised , and which tragically was discovered too late, was that he was also allergic to alcohol. Not a good combination.

Unsurprisingly, Michael was given to unsettling mood changes. He could be, and often was, charming and amusing, yet both virtues were too often overwhelmed by a scathing acerbic wit and an aggressiveness which was not threatening but certainly irritating. Invariably forgiven for his lapses (by me, if by no one else) Mike was, in spite of himself, a nice bloke and, on a good day, a wonderful companion. At the lunches he was expansive, cigar-smoking, brandy drinking and serene and secure in his talent. Most of the cartoonists around the table were like that.

You should see them now!

I’ve exceeded my 600 words. The jog down memory lane ends here.

Bloghorn says click J for Jensen.

The PCO: Great British cartoon talent

To many people, one drawing can look much like another, but to a professional practitioner of the art, little could be further from the truth.

The simple dictionary definition of drawing* is the art of representing by line, but behind this statement the variety can seem infinite.

Expression and communication in drawn line and the way it is used to make a joke or a point is the unique thing in developing an original, visual sense of humour. And that goes towards making the cartoonist.

The picture here shows a small variety of the lines which are used to make jokes. You can find all of them – and their creators – in our PCO cartoon portfolios.

The curve of different PCO cartoonists from procartoonists.org
Click to enlarge the picture.

* Concise Oxford Dictionary.
British cartoon talent

Cartoon by Peter Brookes of The Times

An exhibition entitled Cartoonists 2008 opens at the Chris Beetles Gallery in London on April 8 and runs until May 3.

It is the gallery’s second annual show devoted to the art of British cartooning, following on from its successful You Havin’ a Laugh? exhibition last year.

The show features cartoonists from publications such as The Times, The Sunday Times, Private Eye, The Spectator, Daily Express, London Evening Standard, the Telegraph and The Economist, and includes PCO members Andy Davey, John Jensen, Royston Robertson, Kipper Williams, and Mike Williams.

Original artwork is on sale, at prices ranging from £50 to £5,000.

The gallery, at 8 & 10 Ryder Street, St James’s, London, is open from 10am-5.30pm, Monday to Saturday. Tel 020-7839 7551, email gallery@chrisbeetles.com or visit the website.

British cartoon talent

Cover of His Master’s Line and a self-caricature of PCO contributor John Jensen

The wily old dogs of European cartooning, or at least the ones not being chased by would-be-assassins*, are on the move, as PCOer John Jensen reports.

Dieter Burkamp, organiser of the annual Zemun International Salon of Caricature, and Branko Najhold, have had a wonderful idea: why not celebrate elderly cartoonists before they pop their clogs, rather than after? All exhibitors to the show would have to be 75 or over.

As Branko’s introduction to the resulting book, His Master’s Line, succinctly puts it, all 30 cartoonists, from Western and Eastern Europe, each supplying three drawings, fairly recent, not more than ten years old, who “were at one time in the summit of European cartooning”. However, “glory is passing … and as it happens, the most famous cartoonists of their time sink slowly in oblivion.” (Some not so slowly, I can tell you). “Some of them with trembling hands and with the eyesight weakening”. Yup. But a “master always stays a master”. Yup, again.

Suitably buttered up, and as the only representative from the UK – why? Britain is filled with brilliant decrepitude – I was proud to take my place among the others to show “the new drawers” a thing or two.

The exhibition began its travels in Zemun, Serbia and, after several journeys, will wind up in Oerlinghausen, Germany during 2008.

A hardback book accompanies the show, costing about 25 Euros and Bloghorn will be publishing John’s review of the book soon. Bloghorn says click J for Jensen.

Link to the Zemun festival of Caricature.

* Check the recent entry for news on the Mohammed cartoons controversy.

British cartoon talent