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(no subject) [Aug. 6th, 2010|10:39 pm]
dane_m
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Today I bought, with money given to me by a relative, my first not-used book in years -- "Weathercraft." It is a magical thing. I was shocked that the dust jacket was borderline-ugly, although the actual cover is unspeakably beautiful. Buy those trophies and put them on your shelf. It is definitely a true "graphic novel" experience, somehow, whatever that is. Each panel feels like it has true power and insight, enough to fill 50 panels of another comic.

Anyway, the point of this post is, how do all you people without jobs buy all those fucking comic books??

Just kidding.

Good night and good luck.
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making 'em move [Jul. 2nd, 2010|11:55 am]
dane_m


I CAN'T DO NINETY FEET A WEEK, WALT
I'M SORRY
IT HURTS
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My Dream [Jun. 7th, 2010|06:08 am]
dane_m
WALT: THE MOVIE

BY DANE MARTIN

SCENE #9

(Ubbe is sitting at his desk drawing. He is listening to a slow waltz on a phonograph next to his drawing table. We hear it faintly in the background of the whole scene.)

WALT (off-screen): Ub, get in here.

UBBE: What is it, Walt?

WALT (off-screen): Just get in here!

UBBE: All right, just let me finish this frame.

WALT (off-screen): I said get the fuck in here!

UBBE: All right, all right. Jesus...

(Ubbe, mildly annoyed, puts down his pencil and gets up from his chair. He walks to the other side of the room, where Walt is sitting, calmly typing loudly on a large typewriter and smoking. As he talks to Ubbe, he does not look up.)

UBBE: What is it, Walt?

WALT (not looking up from the typewriter): I want to talk to you, Ubbie.

UBBE: I'm trying to finish that picture!

WALT: That can wait.

UBBE: You said Margaret needs it next week.

WALT: Maggie can wait.

UBBE: What do you want, Walt?

(Walt doesn't speak. He continues to type and smoke.)

(There is a long silence as Ubbe stands and waits for a reply. Smoke fills the room and the loud typing continues.)

UBBE (starting to go back to his desk): All right, my God, let me get back to the picture.

WALT: Don't go anywhere, Ubbie. (Walt puts down his cigarette, stops typing, removes the paper from the machine, and hands it to Ubbe, making (slight) eye contact with him for the first time in the scene.)

UBBE (taking the paper): What is this?

WALT: Just look at it.

(Ubbe reads.)

UBBE: Jesus Christ.

WALT (desperately wanting approval): You like it?

UBBE (laughing slightly, lightly mocking Walt's critical tone): Is this a picture outline or a dog's discharge?

WALT: You don't like it?

UBBE: Walt, we can't do something like this, it's... it's not right, it's just real off, Walt.

WALT: You don't like it?

UBBE: Well, no, it's fine, Walt, but we... I don't... look, here (takes out a pencil, begins to mark up the page)... Oswald should never be a victim in that way; there is always a reason for the situations he’s in; he can’t be that confident, he needs to bend back a litt--

(Walt suddenly quickly grabs Ubbe by the neck and forces his face into his crotch. The pencil drops to the floor.)

WALT (raspy smoker's voice): LISTEN, MOTHERFUCKER

(Ubbe is terrified.)

WALT (in the voice): I KNOW WHAT I WANT, YOU LITTLE PRICK. YOU'RE A GOD DAMN SHRIVELED SHREW, UBBE, AN INCHWORM'S WRITHING COCK SLIVER, A PIN NEEDLE IN A LARGE PULSATING AUTO TIRE. A WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT. I'M THE IDEA MAN HERE. I KNOW HOW TO MAKE THE AUDIENCE LAUGH, I KNOW HOW TO MAKE THEM CRY. I CONTROL THEM. I AM THEM! I MAKE THEM SAY WHAT THEY SAY AND I MAKE THEM DO WHAT THEY DO. I'M GOD, UB, I'M JESUS CHRIST AND HIS MOTHER MARY! I TELL YOU HOW TO MOVE THE RABBIT, AND YOU MOVE HIM AROUND THE SCREEN IN JUST THE WAY I WANT HIM, AND YOU BETTER LISTEN TO ME, UB, BECAUSE YOUR BALLS ARE TIED TO MY STRONG SWEATING TETHER. AND YOU BETTER NOT EVER BREAK THIS TIE, UBBE, THIS WONDERFUL BOND WE SHARE, BECAUSE GOD DAMN IT, YOU FUCKING IMPOTENT IMMAGRANT SALTINE CRACKER FIREMAN'S EXCUSE FOR A PUSSY, THIS IS A BEAUTIFUL THING I HAVE AND I DON'T EVER... EVER... EVER... EVER... EVER... WANT TO LOSE IT.

(Walt lifts Ubbe up from his lap and throws him on the ground.)

WALT (laughing): You better get back to work, Ub. Maggie needs that by next Friday.

UB: Yes, Walt.

(Ub gets off the floor and goes back to his desk. We see him finish the drawing he is making, Oswald in a "frightened" pose. It should register to the audience that the slow waltz is still playing.)

WALT: Can't be late, Ubeb. Ha ha ha. Gotta get that fucker in by Friday. That's right, ha ha ha, Maggie needs it Friday. Think we'll call it TROLLY TROUBLES. What do you think, Ubbie, you old snakedick? Good title, huh? Didn't you suggest that last week? Or did Norm suggest that? Fuck, you're both snakedicks! I can't tell the difference. You're both wonderful, wonderful snakedicks, and you're mine! Ha ha! You're mine! Hey, Ub, I'm out of cigarettes; what say we walk to Woolworth's and get a pack.
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picture palace sanctuary [Jun. 5th, 2010|02:43 am]
dane_m
many ridiculous pictures and things here:

http://danemartin.tumblr.com

if you're into that sort of thing. i think i completely understand and appreciate the mindless 'image dump' direction the internet is heading.

fight through the boredom and smile, daddy!!!
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follow-up [Jun. 2nd, 2010|09:56 pm]
dane_m


margery's visions
scarlet fever dreams
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(no subject) [May. 31st, 2010|02:14 am]
dane_m
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.
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FREE FUN PAKS [Mar. 4th, 2010|01:22 am]
dane_m


As a new attempt to embrace the beauty of mail, I've decided to begin sending packages of drawings, comics, and doodles to anyone who wants one. They are not minicomics but they perform a similar function. They are free. (Greedily, trades of minicomics or other objects are encouraged but definitely not required.) If you'd like one, please e-mail me at danenitram@gmail.com with your address. I will begin sending them in two or three weeks. I'm not sure if this is crazy or not yet but we shall see. We need to send and receive things in the mail. It's important.
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POEM FOR A MAN I LOVE [Feb. 5th, 2010|02:49 am]
dane_m
This is copy-and-pasted from my blog. I feel weird about it but the time has come for all good men to die for their country.

***

I am the last person who should be doing anything like this, but blogs like Comics Comics and Comets Comets and Jeet Heer's blog have made me want to try to write comics "essays," which from time to time may start to appear on this blog. I'm mainly trying to figure things out for myself. I don't know how seriously these should be taken. But they shall be sincere.

I want to try to talk about Theador Guisel.



Obviously, Dr. Seuss has had a deep influence on my drawing style that I'll never be able to shake, no matter how desperately I try to. It's not something I consciously set out to do; I never wrote Dr. Seuss fan-fiction and I never drew those characters at all. My deep love for that man's line was too powerful to hide, I guess, and out it came. Sometimes when people are looking at a drawing I've done they'll say "Is that the Grinch?" The habit of drawing in that way is a little disgusting and weird but I hope you understand. While I hope it never looks like I'm trying to use his visual language for my own purposes (I hope there is something fresh in there somewhere), I'm not really ashamed at all for drawing like that. Every time I go back and look at Seuss' drawings a wave of guilt and confusion happens ("I draw wheels like that, I draw cars like that, I draw trees like that, I draw eyes with those loops"), but that is deluded with plenty of pleasure and awe at one of the most beautiful bodies of work ever created.

With all of the shameless, violent rape that Dr. Seuss' work has gone through the last couple of decades, theme parks and CGI movies and Nickelodeon puppet shows and Broadway musicals, it's hard to separate that awful product from the actual work. That isn't to say that the difference isn't obvious to everyone -- it definitely is -- but even I, as a dear Seuss fan, take the extra peanut-butter-jar-Halloween-costume-Pizza-Hut-reading-day baggage to Seuss' books, and I get overwhelmed and disgusted and confused by the whole thing. The forced "wackiness" of the whole thing. There is a beautiful elegance to whatever "wackiness" there is in Dr. Seuss' actual work. The tone of it always, time and time and time again, seems to be misinterpreted and transformed into something awful. Something out of the worst John Kricfalusi rip-off cartoon mixed with the Berenstain Bears. (Another ruined property!) It is hard to put into words, but in my mind, there is a fine line between whimsy and wacky, and Seuss never crosses into wacky territory. He never loses his dignity.

Dignity seems to be what his work is all about. His style and life outlook was never compromised for any project he worked on in any medium. Obviously a statement like that is an exaggeration by nature but as far as I can judge it is completely true. Advertising, comic strips, children's books, adult's books, animated cartoons, musical albums, even a computer game late in his life, all have a weird and intimidating consistency to them, as though they are all part of the plan. It's one of the hugest draws to his work for me. "I trust this man." It's a shame what has been done with his "properties" since his death but if we can all push them to the back and focus on the actual work, the world is a better place. Even the children's books themselves, as objects and products, have a certain feeling to them that makes me uncomfortable. Glossy, plastic, colorful, menacing. Touching those books feels weird to me. Even as a kid I knew something was "off" about them. I felt like I was being tricked somehow. That is part of the charm of Seuss to me, too: in some ways it feels evil.

When I was in third grade, my mom gave me a book for my birthday called "The Secret Art of Dr. Seuss." That is the book that opened the floodgates of Seuss beauty for me. I really loved that book, and I still do. It may be my most prized book. If you have not seen this book, it is definitely worth finding; I think it's still in print. Sprawled before the viewer are amazing drawings and paintings that hint at what Seuss would be known for if he were born two or three decades later. I fell in love with all of the naked women in that book, drooped over the arms of dog-faced men and tied to giant hammers. Potentially offensive and damaging on the surface but the actual product never feels that way. That book, looking back, singlehandedly made me do the drawings and comics I do today. The language in those painting captions was more influential to me than the poetry in his children's books. Please find this book. The Theador Guisel portrayed in it is, in my eyes, the perfect artist.

That isn't to say that his gag cartoons and (short-lived) comic strip and children's books weren't amazing -- they were -- but there is something about that "fine art" that really stuck with me. Of course, Seuss wouldn't be Seuss without that strangely appealing "advertising man" nature. The books often have that practical, almost businesslike tone and feel to them sometimes, to contrast with the rest of the experience of the book. It's strange but it works. His books often feel like extensions of his advertising gags. "I am selling this moral, although I'm not even sure if I completely believe in it, but I really need to sell the idea that this has a moral in order to make everything seem like a children's book and everything must seem right and comforting in the best of ways, in the most dignified of ways."

Seuss knew exactly what he was doing. He was no accidental wacky genius. He was selling his gift for "beautiful whimsical 'nonsense' images" -- a gift shared by only a handful before him and maybe one or two after him -- in the smoothest and best of ways. "Here is a new gimmick for elementary school primers, here is a new way for children to learn the piano, here's an entire line of people making books imitating mine, here's a new way for me to be king of the kulture." Seuss would have probably approved of the Rozz-Tox manifesto.

But none of that really matters and I don't think it really changes the work at all. Sometimes it feels really formal and serious and that usually works in contrast to the images. The children's books are often confusing to me in a way but I love them. They are among my favorite things in the whole world.

Sometimes I think the idea of Dr. Seuss is what I'm really in love with, and that's probably true. It's hard for me these days to look at his output for any length of time; the images are vaguely burned in my brain and almost cause me pain to look at sometimes, like seeing pictures of my mother as a young woman. But there is no doubting that he is the perfect artist and I want him to stay that way in my mind. In a better world I would try in all of my heart to mimick his surviving-as-an-artist-in-the-cold-world attitude but it's a different world and I'm a nonfuctional idiot.

Seuss was a master of cartoon drawing composition. Character here, trees here, buildings here, everything is sprawling and great, text goes here, eye moves across page; it never fails! It always works. It almost seems sometimes like Seuss was influenced by the animation of his (late) youth -- sprawling happy animals and their environments. Crazy machines. Wide-eyed youth destroyed. Speed lines. Tricksters. It connects to early cartoons to me, in my brain, really nicely, and it helps feed the dangerous imaginary "funny animal" machine that I'm always thinking about and drawing from. I think the way Seuss' drawings always look, whether they are in Good Housekeeping or are promoting General Motors or are in the comics pages, always flow in this beautiful, perfect, appealing way that, whether you want to admit it or not, is the very drive and essence of what makes great cartoon drawing work. They are beautiful things and among my favorites and I try not to think any deeper than that. I've tried to here and it's baffling and angering me but I'll try to keep going.

Strip away all of the bad associations you have with Seuss and you have a beautiful, appealing style and some of the best-sounding language to ever appear in the world. It comes off the tongue like serenaded silk. The coupling of those two things, rare and wonderful gifts, is so flawless that I keep expecting to hear that Seuss was actually several men, many men, a Walt Disney studio.

A Walt Disney studio. That is a subject for another day.

Frank Santoro I am not.

Please ignore this post.
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(no subject) [Jan. 27th, 2010|08:26 pm]
dane_m
Spooked Horse Skips A Grade
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'old spanish dog' by daniel boone [Jan. 16th, 2010|04:56 am]
dane_m
like an old spanish dog,
the retarded boy goes to the beautiful woman,
and like the old spanish dog pines for the old spanish moss,
the retarded boy begs to the beautiful woman for acceptance into her beautiful world,
and the beautiful woman kicks him in the genitals
and proceeds to pick the old spanish moss
and feed it playfully to the old spanish dog
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