Artistic Memoirees © 2008

The 70's

In 1971,I heard of an opening at Ralph Bakshi studios in NYC, It was a beginners job opaquing a  new Animated Cartoon, An X rated animated cartoon called "Fritz the Cat. The feature film was looosely based on Robert Crumbs character created for the underground Comix  copyrighted in 1965. 

I met Ralph Bakshi,interviewed for the job, and was hired as one of the many opaquers on  Fritz the Cat.

It was , what most people would feel a boring necesary job.

We were the infantry, we took the inked film acetate cell,  turned it over, and painted the 

reverse side with an acrylic cell vinyll paint. . That was it, that was all we did all 

day long.

We followed a chart with a lined drawing of the character on it. The line drawing had numbers and coresponding  arrows pointing to the character for color. So simple almost anyone could do it.For an artist, this was mana. I loved my job. Every day I would grab the train from Long Beach, NY and travel the 90 minute ride to the city, just so I could be a part of this animation film. I met wonderful people, and watched an animated film come to life. Face it I was a kid.

I met the guy who created Baby Huey, I believe his name was Marty Taras, he was  a gentleman, and he was a dead ringer for Baby Huey, in size, demeanor, and personality. .  He

 was one of the animators on the film, in New York City. It was amazing to watch how animation was created via Ralph Bakshi and company. The Original drawing was drawn by an animator, and given to another animator, called an inbetweener. He or she would ,  t

race the pencilled art, and make small adjustments to give the illusion of movement..  Sometimes only a part of the body, not the whole body was was drawn, it was all dependant on the characters movement. The crew involved was a tight knit group of incredibly talented artists,

The finished pencils were all checked , then given to an inker. He, or she would trace over the lines with  a pen, on each cel. When that was completed, the acetates  were given to the cell painters. The background was based on photos of the city, then turned into a magnificent water color paintngs for the film, It was an amazing production, and a lot of fun to see it being produced.

There is a wonderful book called "Unfiltered" The complete Ralph Bakshi, by Universe Publishing Co, I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys great art, cartoons, or animation.

It will explain the whole process, and display the amazing artwork that went into each of the  RalphBakshi animated films, Enjoy

 

Below is my little animated cartoon, promoting the web site 

  www.caricatoonist.com

       It can also be seen at 

 www. partypop.com

 along with samples of the artwork, from TCS.

An Artistic Interposition The 70's  ( continued)

There has ben too many words, and not enough art, so I am interjecting at this point more art from the past.

       

                          That was a bit of fine madness from 1972.

In 1971, I was fortunate to meet wallace Wood. Woody, was living in Long Island, with a bride,and ready made family. The unfortunate part was that Woody was never happy.

I worked  in Woody's studio , in Valley Stream, NY with the talents of, Nicola Cuti, Syd Shores, Jack Able,,and the occaisional visiting, artist who happened by. My job was to spot blacks, ie:

blacken in the areas on his comics strips, Sally Forth, and cannon. The strips were created for the overseas weekly newspapers. You haven't lived as an apprentice, until you hear tsss! over your shoulder, as you are inking in the art of the master.I looked over my sholder, and there was Woody, grimacing at the work I had just completed.Just like that, with a flourishing whip of the masters hand, with some  whiteout, the page was good as new.Woody, just smiled at me, and said continue. Woody was very forgiving, and also giving. He would let me do more and more, on a page of his creation. I always was watchful, and knew that I could not be  Woody,

so I went as far as I could with the inking.  He taught me a lot.As the years passed, we went our separate ways. Woody was a wonderful teacher, and good soul, we were good friends.

Those who know  Woody have had different impressions of him. I enjoyed his company, and friendship..and was awed by his amazing talent

Sally Forth originally© 1971 Wallace Wood Published by Overseas Weekly 

Published 1993 Eros Comix © Bill Pearson

Artist Memoirees ©2008 stevens

Artistic Memoires©2008

The Seventies...continuing...

OK, Ok, it's been a whle since I addressed this blog, I'm sorry.

I've been trying to keep it real,  and locate pertinent information to make it so.

That's a job in itself.

This chapter is about...Love, from the 70's

I know , I know, Love?

 Boring, time to move on...

I felt the same way, then I found a large batch of cartoons addressing love, so I said

Buck up and just write it, so, either close your eyes, or read on, I might just do the same

So here it is 

Love.

The Webster's dictionary justified my chapter with the following...in no particular order

love (luv) a noun. An intense and warm feeling for one another. To like, or desire enthusiastically, A zero score in Tennis, ,Need I say more.  

 The first ones called, "Take off your Glasses"Next is something I called "Ah Love...." 

".. and finally "Out the Window"

  

Sure they are cynical.I was depressed, and my cartoons were my therapy. It was a hard time.  Susan liked strays of all kinds, the house always had some new entity in the fold for a while.

 A new dog, cat or person was in our home, or life. someone said ,of me, that I would give you the shirt off my back, but first I'd have to draw it .  That was pretty true, below you will see an example of , just that. 

The funny part about this shirt is that I created myself, in 1971, as Young old John, white beard and all. Suzy and I had an unusual relationship, I had no where to go, we enjoyed each others company I guess, but we stayed together because where would we go. That would soon change.

To be continued,, Soon I hope, sorry about the delay.  Time passes too quickly.

Artistic Memoirees ©2008 stevens

Artistic Memories© 2008

The 70's continued

Driving a cab, didn't put enough food on the table, nor pay the rent, so in 1971, I donned a suit and tie, and headed back to the big Apple. I took a job as a pasteup/mechanical artist, for a retail newspaper. If you were born in the after 1979, let me explain what a pasteup/mechanical artist does. He cuts out type from a galley of body copy, and art and paste it into position on a board.

A tedious, necessary, lousy start up position in the art field. The work of drudgery. The word  pasteup is so old, the at my spell checker is quizzing me

 on the correct spelling. Today in our  wonderful age of computers, the pasteup/mechanicals are all done digitally, and not with rubber cement, or wax to paste it down.. Did I mention  lousy start up position. Well, that was how ads were put into Newspapers and fliers back in the dark ages of printing. Hey, It paid the bills, sort of... 

The company I worked for either handled retail stores, or was a store ad agency, I can't remember which. I think it was Korvettes, a long  ago gone retail store, like K-Mart.  It 's not that important. I mentioned earlier that I always pushed the envelope, so my area where I worked was no exception,. I had my own cartoon characters everywhere around me, I even had a 4' high cartoon creature towering above my drawing desk lamp. The place was a cartoon carnival. The organization, humored me, somewhat. 

 I remember they had a great relaxation room, that everyone went to during lunch hour. There were billiard tables, and everyone congregated there. I loved to write and draw, but with all the commotion during lunch hour, I couldn't hear myself think. So, I did the obvious, I chose my lunch hour from 1PM to 2PM, when no one else was there.  I drew cartoons vigorously in the peace and quiet of the large room. One day my concentration was interrupted, by an "Ahem"

" What are you doing here?' question. I proceeded to explain how I was an artist, and how I... 

I was cut off by "Lunch hour is from 12 noon to 1PM, This room is not open after 1PM."retort.

I said I wasn't bothering anyone, and, the peace and quiet is so conducive to creating art.

Whereupon, he said" This room is open for lunch only , and from 12 noon to 1Pm, who is your supervisor."

 Needless to say, from that day forward I ate my lunch at my desk, whilst I sketched cartoons in my book, from 12 noon to 1PM.

One last vignette, about Korvettes, it's not art related, but since I'm stuck at my desk in time, I figured I drop it in.

One afternoon, as I was slaving over my pasteups for an always exciting weekend special flier, I looked up and saw a couple dressed up like they didn't belong in our Korvettes establishment. 

He was tall, smartly dressed, and she was attractive, and wearing clothes, that you would never find at a Korvettes store. As they walked from department  to department, they were introduced to each person. " This is Ed Furstenberg, and Diane, they will be working with us"

my manager said, and off they sauntered . I thought, I can't see them soing pasteups, and I was right, in fact I never saw them again , until some time later, when I picked up the Daily News, and read the About Town page. The Crown Prince of Austria, Egon Von Furstenberg, and his lovely wife were in America , to learn about the retail business. Eddy Furstenberg, Cmon !

I realized after working at a job I hated, that my days were numbered. The week moved slowly, each night I would go home, and tell Suzy about my escapades, and the pending sword .

Her reaction, "you'll find another job, we have cat's to feed". Throughout the week, I slowly took down my cartoon museum, by Thursday, it was totally fresh and clean, ready for a new lackey. Friday, at 4:30, I placed a clean white board on the drawing table, said my few goodbyes, waited to 5PM to leave, and I never got a call from my boss to see him. I was amazed.

Monday morning, I showered, put on my best clothes, headed to the train station. I bought a weekly ticket, grabbed a coffee, and newspaper. I  got the best seat on the train, since it was the end of the line, and headed to the city.   Squeezing my 6' 2" frame into a packed subway can, was again to be my continuing joy. I grabbed another cup of coffee to face the day at the office .

Getting off the elevator, and crossing through the corridors to the art department, I received a few quizzical looks. I stopped short, when I saw a pair of crossed legs, sitting at my drawing table.

I heard a cough, and another, and the "John, can I see you in my office" was heard next.

I traipsed into the managers office, sat down and waited. "John, It's not working out, we have to let you go" he said sheepishly. I said, "Wait a minute, doesn't that always happen on Fridays, I just bought a weekly ticket"

 ..........."I forgot" was his only reply. 

Artistic Memoirees ©2008 stevens

Artistic Memoirees© 2008

The 70's

Above is my first and only puppet I created in 1970. His name was Jeremiah, based on a character I created in a Children's Book Class at The  School of Visual Arts , back in 1966.

I have been trying to locate that book, but have so far, had no luck. It was interesting, because

I dummied up the entire book . 

The story  followed this large Green character, who did everything to fit in with everyone else. The last page he finally found his place in society. He was happy as a lark, sitting in a cage, with a sign above saying "Please don't Feed the Jeremiah"

It was an Anti Children's book. I always pushed the envelope ay SVA. Sometimes the instructors accepted my creativity, sometimes they thought I was a smart *ss.

As an artist, you are always asked to draw something,

 or create something for someone.

Susan and I lived in the 840 house,  It was an apartment house where some of the wealthy lived, right on the beach. Across the hall were Mike and Judy  with their two german shepherds,( Yago, and Tasha,)  Bobbi and Joey lived next door,and  upstairs was two of the band members  of the Vanilla Fudge.

It was Joeys birthday, so they asked me to create a gift for him. Joey was a smoker, but a particular one. He never bought store bought cigarettes, "I don't trust them" , he would say.

He would buy tobacco,  papers, and roll his own cigarettes. Below is the mobile gift I made for him. I gave it to him in pieces, in a box. He had to build it himself. based on my directions, and  cut outs. He got a kick out of it.

Because you create something for a friend, you must create something for your  girl.

Suzy's birthday was coming up, and I had no idea what to get her. Heck, with the cost of the apartment, I had no money anyway.

So I used my hands, and created her, what I called the "Jiggasaurus". It was a jig saw puzzle birthday card. Each piece represented one of my characters, or a portion thereof. I also created a story to go along with it.

Each page was pasted on the walls throughout the apartment. It told of how the Jiggasaurus came to be, as it blew into town with one purpose. To get each piece together, to celebrate Suzy's birthday. It was at least unique. The pages are all but lost, I have but one photo to show you how the Jiggasaurus looked ,in part, for Suzy's Birthday. See Below.

What I find interesting as I dig through my old files, is that , not only the evolution of my art and style, but also  at how we dressed , and our appearance back then, either in art or in life. .

Note the Bell bottoms and the platform shoes. Even I, at 6'2", wore platform shoes...

More Artistic Memoirees  to follow later...

Artistic Memoirees © 2008 stevens

Artistic Memoirees© 2008

The Blog Cab Tales via the 70's

As I mentioned last time , to put food on the table, and more importantly, 

to pay the bills, I took a job driving a cab. The job was mine , due to our neighbor, and a  friend of Susan's. The neighbor's name was Jerry, he lived in the next building , with his room mate, who was the  co owner a competing  cab company . I think his name was Rich, his partner's name Steve. 

Well, since everyone knew Susan,  I got the job.

 I will illustrate tell some Taxi Driving Tales,

 with a brief cartoon illustration to make my point.

 All stories are factual , based on my memory, and not embellished.

 This being true, they

 may leaving you hanging for more,

 since you are use to  TV shows and fictional accounts of facts.

The above illustration is entitled 

 "The day I sunk the 42 car"

Each vehicle was given a number, and I drove, the checker cab, 

 known as the 42 car.

Each of the next four vignettes,

 will tell tales of that vehicle, and me.

One snowy, icy morning, I received a call to pick up a customer,

 from their home, for passage to the rail road station.

  Normally, a 5 minute  drive,

 but the area was a new development in  Island Park, NY.

 I wended my way through the dirt roads, picked up the passenger,

 and headed towards the railway station. 

The customer was in a hurry to make the 7:55 train,

 and told me of  a short cut through the construction areas. 

On a clear day, that would have been a fine idea,

 but with intermittent,ice, and rain, not so. 

I dutifully followed the passengers' directions,

 a  left here, a right there, until we hit a pocket of ice.

The cab skidded a bit, but I kept control of it.

 The next move was to be our final move. 

I slowly made  a left turn, through what appeared to be a clearing,

 but alas, the road had it's own mind. 

The ice gave way, and we began to sink. 

A checker cab is a fairly heavy vehicle, so we 

sunk pretty quickly. The car didn't sink straight down, it went face down. 

All the passenger cared about was missing her train. She said to me, forget it, I'll walk, opened the door, and water rushed in.I turned off the motor, grabbed the keys, hopped out the back door, and muddled my way thigh, to ankle, deep in frozen water , hearing the words "Idiot" "Jerk", and worse as I traversed my way back to the cab station. The cab was saved, I froze my assets off.

"Driving a cab, can be Murder"

One  evening, about 9;30 PM, I received an unusual call,to pick up a customer at  The Long Beach Motor Inn. 

Why this was unusual, was because, The Long Beach Motor Inn had  a direct line to the Long Beach Cab company, our competitor. I took the call, drove to the Motor Inn, waited for the fare.

I brown leathered jacketed young man hopped in the car, and said "Let's Go!" He seemed hopped up on something.

I said where to, he proceeded, to not only give me the address, but also to disclose his tale.

He began with, "You look like a pretty together guy...", with those 

words he proceeded to tell me how he robbed a jewelry store, in Long Beach, NY

 earlier in the day, and how he got away  with $28,000 in gems.I lived in Long Beach, and heard of no robbery this day, so I thought he was Bull Sh*tting me., so I listened , because my tip was in balance. I drove him to his destination, he said" Wait here, I 'll be right back,and cut the top light". Usually that means that you'll never  see your fare again. Just as I was about to leave, he appeared , shaky and sweaty, he said" Let's Go" I said where to now, "Back to the Hotel", he retorted . He paid the cab fare, and handed me a $20 tip. That was quite unusual.

Upon heading back to the cab stand, I clicked on the radio, to hear of a brutal murder in Long Beach, earlier in the evening. The cab  office sat next to the Nassau County police booth. The police were always dropping by to talk, and grab a coffee. This evening the cab stand was a beehive of activity. There was indeed a murder, in Long beach, NY. A brutal murder, not that long ago. I didn't put two and two together, so I went about my business, ended my shift at midnight, headed home. When I got to my apartment, Susan was entertaining , our neighbor, Jerry , and a few friends. I was wide awake, so I partied into the early morning with them.

I told them of my unusual passenger earlier in the evening. They all laughed at the dumb story.

 The next evening while driving my Checker cab, I got a call from the dispatcher, to come in immediately after the paid fare.As I drove into the cab station, there were two plain clothes officers to greet me. They asked my name, and inquired if I had anyone strange in my cab last night. I told them that most of my passengers at night are strange. They said I picked up  this fare, last night,  at The Long Beach Motor Inn. I sunk in my seat. They said "Could you identify this person, if you saw him again?" I said "If you have a picture" Then one cop turned to the other and said, "Do you have the picture?" Whereupon, the other cop said, "No, I thought you brought the pcture." They jumped in their car, and said , "We'll be right back." As I was returning from my latest fare,  I received a call from the dispatcher, "John, your friends are back, you better get back here, in a hurry."Before I could even park the car, the two officers flipped out  a photo, and said "Is this the man you drove last night?" I said, 

"Yeah, only he's a bit uglier. "

Apparently, how this all unfolded was that , my neighbor Jerry's room mate, Rich, knew the person who was murdered. She was his mothers good friend. Rich  notified the police, after

 Jerry told Rich my story, and the police came to the cab station to quiz me.

 They caught the perpetrator about two weeks later. 

 Thinking no one was home, the perp broke into a house in Long beach, , to steal a T.V, and a few other items. He was startled by a woman , who caught him robbing  her. She tried to stop him, He pulled a knife, and stabbed her. Not only did he stab here, but he then stabbed her 27 times, and raped her. He wanted the police to believe a maniac killed her, not him. 

I lived in fear, until they caught him. Simple police work, was how he got caught.

All televisions had registration code numbers, to identify the owners. When the perp fenced the TV, and the person tried to sell it, the police arrested the seller. The seller turned against the perp, and the perp was arrested. I was to be his alibi, since he called just after the murder, was all shaky, and nervous, and gave me a preposterous robbery story. I would be sure to have his alibi covered, It didn't work out that way.

Be rewarded when?

Sometimes we got to pick up the last call drinkers, from the bars, and drive them home.

It was a task that all late night cab drivers had to do. Rewarding? well that would depend on the luck, and possible good fortune  of the driver. The idea was to get them in and out of your cab as quickly as possible. Not only because they might throw up, but also, cab driving is a numbers game. The more passengers the more money you make. It was as simple as that.

One evening, I picked up and old sot, who wanted to go home from the pub. The problem was not only was he sleepy, but he also, couldn't remember where he lived, in Long Beach.

I kept naming apartment houses, not only to assist in his identifying where he lived, but also to keep him awake. Long Beach is aptly named, it is a long strip of beach property with apartments, and houses scattered throughout. My voice was becoming hoarse after driving up and down the strip calling out names of hotels, apartments, and streets. He was half asleep, I think he was beginning to feel that my "42" cab was his home. finally as it was getting almost light, he remembered, I promptly drove him to his home. He asked "How much"

The fare was normally $3.00 from the bar, to his home. but since he claimed squatters rights, I charged him $10.00. He payed gladly, and threw in a $5.00  tip. His last comment to me was" You will be rewarded in Heaven, my friend." My guilt widened at that moment for overcharging him.

The cat lady

During the day shift, frequently we would assist the elderly with their grocery bundles.

One afternoon, I received a call to pick up a fare at the King Kullen food store.

At the curbside there was an old lady with a shopping cart filled with about 12 bags of groceries.

She was to be my fare.  I helped her into the car, she had an odor about her. I placed all the grocery bags into the trunk, and off we went. When I arrived at her home, she asked if I could carry the bags into the house. I obliged. When she opened the door, I realized what her odor was. She was a cat lady. She had about 2 dozen cats of all colors and sizes running about  her home. There was newspapers everywhere, and the pungent smell of cat urine permeated the place.. After several trips, all the grocery bags were in the house.. She thanked me , and apologized, that she couldn't afford a tip. She offered me a cat. I said no thank you. As I walked towards the door, she said"Wait" "I have something for you, sir, something for your kindness"

She handed me a Tiffany lamp, as  a gratuity. I was amazed, I said no, but she insisted. 

So I walked out with a Tiffany lamp.

Years later, my ex-wife sold it at a garage sale. It wasn't a Tiffany.

Thanks for your letting me bend your ear, uh eye for this Adventure in cabbing, 

More art and the 70's to come.

Artistic Memoirees © 2008 stevens

Artistic Memoirees©2008

Ah ,the 70's, at last...

When I left off last time I was mentioning about Susan, my parents, and 

yes, there will be art. I assure you lots of art.

My parents were old fashioned,

or perhaps  unbeknownst to myself, I was  a rebel. 

My parents were furious that I left the nest.

 After all,my sister and brother did the honorable thing,

waited to get married, before fleeing the coop.

They insisted I come to my senses, and come right home, now !.

I did not. They were the co- signers on my 1969 Kharman Ghia,

They called my note,and alas, I lost the car that I loved... my first car.

I know it's about art... I'll get there.

I had no job, a new playmate, an unrealized anchor of an apartment,

 and as I said no job.

Oh did I mention that Susan quit her job . 

I did the honorable thing, I got a job driving a cab. Susan, stayed home. 

I got a credit card, Susan stayed home,

 I fixed the apartment up, well, actually, we fixed it up.

I paid for it. 

It was paradise, and insanity  all wrapped up into one.

Susan made friends easily, she was likable. I worked, so she stayed home, sort of .

She was never alone, she and her several cats, and more friends. 

I wasn't that alone either.

I got a job driving a cab. 

 I had lots of passengers in my cab , during my, too long to remember, shift.

Actually, that's not true, I was very  lonely.

 One thing though, It was my most prolific time of creating cartoons.

(I'll try not to drag out too many, just enough to make my point.)

I filled books, upon books ,of cartoons during that time.

 It was kind of  a cathartic  beginning

 of my cartoon therapy, without the doctors.

I feel this may be a long chapter , so bear with me.

My cartoons were about feelings,  emotions, and  innermost thoughts.

Maybe not funny, a little crazy, but, a learning experience, that was for certain.

No Pain, No Gain,  to speak...

To be Continued....