posted: May 13, 2013

It's not often I get the opportunity to draw jazz hands.
A quick cover for last weekends New York Times Arts & Leisure section. I wish I could tell you that these are all drawn from life, but unfortunately I haven't had a chance to see any of these plays. The closest I've come is my daughter's middle school drama club production of The Wizard of Oz, which was sadly overlooked for a Tony nomination.
Thanks to Shannon Robertson and Paul Jean for a fun gig.

posted: January 14, 2013

Within minutes after the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary, memorials started springing up all over Newtown. People seemed to have a strong visceral need to give visual expression to their shock, horror and grief. People spray painted messages on sheets and plywood and mounted them in yards and on roadsides. Balloons and teddy bears festooned the Sandy Hook School sign. More elaborate memorials quickly followed. The plywood angels, banners, christmas trees and other displays appeared over and over in the media, and became rallying points for the people who poured in to Newtown to pay their respects, to mourn and to offer help and condolences. As they added their own messages, flags, banners, stuffed animals and other tributes, the shrines grew.

At the same time, people all over the world mailed in messages and gifts. The many packages and letters threatened to overwhelm the local post office. Local volunteers worked in shifts opening and sorting, and the town warehouse was soon filled to the rafters. There were donations of  tens of thousands of stuffed animals, school supplies, checks, even cash. The sorters have been very careful to take inventory, and to honor the wishes of the person making the donation. Funds have been set up, and arrangements have been made to distribute the toys and supplies.

After a couple of weeks, the town cleared away most of the outdoor public memorials. They have been carefully stored, and will be incorporated into a future permanent memorial site. There are still many private tributes all over town, everything from signs and posters to lights and snowmen.

The donations that were sent to Newtown are currently in 2 locations. The 'stuff' is in the town warehouse, and the many letters and cards are in the town hall, stored in bins stacked in tables lining 2 sides of the long front hall. My wife and I spent the afternoon there today. Along with thousands of cards and letters, there are many drawings, posters, books, cutouts, and handmade memorials of all kinds. Again, it seems like there was a universal urge to express grief and condolences with images. I saw beautiful expressions from all over the world. From a Forward Operating Base in Afghanistan, from town mayors, from groups of school children, church groups, and individual kids and families. There was a very moving letter from a prisoner in a state prison, and another from an inmate in a mental institution.

I found myself wondering what would happen to these tributes. They might eventually be ground up with the outdoor memorials. I wanted to keep a record of one that was particularly moving, so I took a snapshot of it with my phone. Before I knew it, I had spent hours there and taken over a hundred photos. I want to go back tomorrow with a better camera and get permission to take more photos, so there is a permanent record of these demonstrations of the worlds' love and grief.

People were moved to write and draw, and to send it to a town they'd probably never heard of before. They may not have known if it would even get here, or if it did, if someone would read it. I don't know if anyone who sent a card or letter will see this, but I hope so. I'd like you to know that we did get it, that your letter is appreciated, that it's in good company, and that the people of Newtown stop by constantly all day to read it and the many others, and that we are taking the comfort from it that you offered. Thank you.

posted: December 15, 2012

A first grade teacher sheltered her students in a closet, listening to gunshots in the hallway outside. Fearing the worst, she said she wanted these tiny 6 and 7 year olds to know that somebody loved them, and for that to be the last thing they heard, not the gunshots. Other teachers and staff risked their lives and died trying to protect children. They literally ran out without hesitation to warn others, to pull students to safety, and to put themselves between the bullets and the children.

Their incredible selflessness and bravery saved many childrens' lives. Thinking about that is helping to hold up the crushing weight of the rest of that horrible, tragic day. Because we can't stop thinking about it. I wanted to do something to help somehow, but feel pretty helpless. The only thing I can do right now is draw. It's not going to help, but I wanted to be doing something.

I'd like to dedicate this image to the teachers and students of Sandy Hook Elementary School.

We live in Newtown. Our daughter Daisy goes to Newtown Middle School, and our son Jamie is a senior at Newtown High School.  A lot of friends, relatives and colleagues have texted and called and emailed over the last day to find out if we're okay, to express their grief and horror, and to send love and support. We are very grateful for all the thoughts and wishes. A lot of people have also wanted to know more information. I think everyone is desperately trying to find something to help give this all some kind of meaning.

So I hope you'll forgive me for describing our day here for all of the people who have been asking.

We got Daisy ready in the morning and got her on the school bus at 6:25 as usual. Jamie had the first few classes free and didn't have to leave until 10 am. Some time before that we were notified by phone and email of a school lockdown. It's not all that unusual here. The schools have drills, and they also lock down the schools as a precaution if there is a robbery or anything unusual in the town, so we weren't worried. But we wanted to know if it would be over soon so my son could get into the school. So I turned on the police scanner to see if anything was going on. Usually it's silent - not a lot goes on here in Newtown. This time it wasn't silent. It was immediately clear that something serious was going on. I felt a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I heard an EMT say they were setting up triage units in the parking lot. Then a dispatcher said that 3 MCI units - mass casualty incident units - were en route. It was obviously a large-scale emergency. We heard ambulances inbound from towns all around us. We heard only three ambulances leaving for nearby hospitals.

Details started coming out on the local news feeds. A school shooting. Our relief at eventually seeing that it wasn't Daisy's school was immediately overwhelmed by the horror of finding out it was Sandy Hook Elementary. On the police scanner we heard cops clearing the school - they did it a total of four times. The news was talking about one or more gunmen fleeing into the woods, and we heard the cops searching. They were also searching for a vehicle - pulling vans over on the surrounding roads. We heard the dispatcher sending units to investigate suspicious people in the parking lots of other schools near us. I tried to reassure my son that other gunmen weren't coming to us. We turned on CNN for more news but it was useless - they didn't know how to pronounce Newtown, much less where it was.

We were desperate to go get Daisy, but knew we couldn't. The minute they lifted the lockdown we rushed over to get her. The roads and school parking lot were filled with grim parents picking up their kids. Daisy was relieved to get out, and a little stunned. The announcement "Lockdown!" had come over the intercom very quickly, and the teachers had jumped into action. They locked the door and covered the window with paper, while the children all crowded into the corner, like they had practiced many times. They sat on the floor in silence for 3 hours. Many had to pee, but they weren't allowed to move or make noise. For the first hour they didn't know what was happening, but then one of the teachers told the kids that there had been a shooting. One of the teachers showed the other her phone, and she began crying and left.

We originally had a plan for that afternoon - we had tickets for the Rockettes. A Christmas present for Daisy. It was the last thing we felt like doing at that moment, but we realized That it wouldn't be doing her any good to sit at home and listen to the horrible news reports coming in. So - shaking and shell-shocked, we drove into the city, making it to Radio City Music Hall just in time. Daisy loved the show, and clapped in all the right places, but every time I looked over at her, sitting beside me in the dark, I saw her sad little face. The show was amazing, but felt surreal to say the least. I clutched my phone in a death grip, willing myself to not check the local news feeds.

And then the show was over, and we were walking through the streets of midtown. It felt so odd to be in the middle of all these people - none of them seemed to know that a horrible tragedy had taken place. My wife Lucy said "there's no one here from Newtown." So we got in our car and drove right home. Even the air in Newtown seemed sadder somehow.

That evening I overheard my kids downstairs, talking quietly to each other about the day. My son said "I'm so glad you're safe Daisy."

Today, the day after, it's quiet here in Newtown. As I drove Daisy to a friend's house, we saw flagpoles in front of houses here and there, with flags at half mast. At every one, the cars passing slowed.
 
So - that was our day. It was a hard day for everyone, no more hard for us by virtue of our proximity.
 
There is a way you can help. The United Way has set up a Sandy Hook Support Fund. You can get a link to that and information about other ways to help here:
 
http://newtown.patch.com/articles/ways-to-help-sandy-hook#photo-12588300
 

posted: November 28, 2012

Here's some letterpress madness for your private delectations.
 
Given the subject matter of this book, my friend Milan Bozic at Harper Collins felt that some hand printed wood and metal type would feel just about right for the cover. I couldn't agree more, although it's possible that I'm biased.

My so-called design process sometimes involves slapping type onto the bed of the press and proofing it. Other times I'll doodle until something starts to feel right. This time I did both. I proofed a few things but none were really doing it. So I busted out the paper and pen.

A few of these looked promising...

...but this little guy seemed to have something the others lacked. Of course, it would be difficult - type on complex curves, twining in the branches of a tree - but it was just crazy enough to work!

Here's the final forme locked up on the bed of the press - a crazy confection of curved quads, curved furniture, 1830's to 1850's wood and metal type, great lashings of leading, reglet, furniture, magnets and ornaments - all ready for inking and printing on some handmade paper.
 
Thanks to Milan for a great gig. This piece is a couple of years old - the book came out in 2010.