Since April 2010, Disquiet.com has hosted a monthly project called “Sketches of Sound,” in which illustrators, many of them comics artists, are invited to draw a sound-related object. I post the drawing as the background of my Twitter account, twitter.com/disquiet, and then share a bit of information about the illustrator back on Disquiet.com. Call it “curating Twitter.”

This, the 21st entry, and final entry for 2011, features a boombox by Jaime Crespo:

Born about a zillion years ago in the region of the world now referred to as California, Jaime Crespo, a non-award-winning cartoonist, has been writing, drawing, and publishing comics for over thirty years. Okay, he’s been drawing and writing them for a heck of a lot longer than that and he has had a number of publishers, editors, and the like but never really enjoyed answering to “the man.”

So, in the punk rock DIY spirit, Mr. Crespo has appeared in loads of self-published comic books as well as others anthologies, weekly newspapers, magazines, art magazines, and a whole slew of stuff you’ve probably never heard of and he continues to do so, unabated in spite of his age, ailing health, and tenuous grasp on reality.

Mr. Crespo is also a pet owner.

jaimecrespo.com

The previous “Sketches of Sound” contributors were, in alphabetical order, Jesse Baggs, Michael Bartalos, Brian Biggs, Leela Corman, Warren Craghead III, Scott Faulkner, Owen Freeman, S.L. Gallant, Scott Gilbert, Brian Hagen, Dylan Horrocks, Megan Kelso, Minty Lewis, Natalia Ludmila, Darko Macan, Caesar Meadows, Justin Orr, Hannes Pasqualini, Thorsten Sideb0ard, and Gustavo Alberto Garcia Vaca. ‎

Since April 2010, Disquiet.com has hosted a monthly project called “Sketches of Sound,” in which illustrators, most of them comics artists, are invited to draw a sound-related object. I post the drawing as the background of my Twitter account, twitter.com/disquiet, and then share a bit of information about the illustrator back on Disquiet.com. Call it “curating Twitter.”

The 19th entry features this drawing by Scott Gilbert. Scott Gilbert is a cartoonist, illustrator, and primarily a librarian living in Houston, Texas, since 1984. From 1989 through 2002 he produced the weekly comic strip True Artist Tales, and collaborated with Harvey Pekar on American Splendor.

The previous “Sketches of Sound” contributors were, in alphabetical order, Jesse Baggs, Brian Biggs, Leela Corman, Warren Craghead III, Scott Faulkner, Owen Freeman, S.L. Gallant, Brian Hagen, Dylan Horrocks, Megan Kelso, Minty Lewis, Natalia Ludmila, Darko Macan, Caesar Meadows, Justin Orr, Hannes Pasqualini, Thorsten Sideb0ard, and Gustavo Alberto Garcia Vaca. ‎

Following up a recent interview with Kid Koala about the intersection of scratchboard comics and turntablism scratching, here’s another audio interview with the Canadian musician and longtime Ninja Tune Records roster member on the occasion of his new graphic novel and accompanying soundtrack, Space Cadet (MP3). He was interviewed for the excellent Panel Borders comics podcast series, part of the generous offerings of resonancefm.com. Koala is a thoughtful participant in and observer of the more sedate vestiges of street culture. He spins a good tale about the origins of his “Music to Draw to” series, in which he DJs downtempo music to inspire the artists and other creative types who show up for the special live shows, held in places like art galleries. The series began during a Canadian winter, as a way to inspire his friends to get out of their apartments and do something creative together — or at least side by side. It isn’t just for artists. He reports that fashion designers, video-game coders, and writers have joined in. At least once, someone brought along a loom. The first rule of “Music to Draw to” is: be prepared to do something creative. The second rule of “Music to Draw to” is: no dancing.

MP3 originally posted at resonancefm.com.

The recent exhibition of contemporary art from India at the San Jose Museum of Art — Roots in the Air, Branches Below — had numerous and welcome splashes of color and whimsy.

Key among them was Chintan Upadhyay‘s “Untitled (Designer Baby) (2008),” a painted doll caged like a songbird (pictured at left), its mouth open, though perhaps more likely to bite than to sing. The figure painted on its chest could just as easily be meant to imply that it has been consumed, rather than tattooed — which is to say, rendered mute. Also making an indelible impression was Aparna Rao and Soren Pors‘ “The Uncle Phone” (2004), a red rotary-dial device extended to an almost absurd 78 inches (shown up top). Despite the phone’s relative antiquity and seeming ineffectiveness, it is not a comment on the long-distance relations of tech workers; according to the artists, it takes its inspiration from an uncle who preferred someone else dial the phone for him. So, come to think of it, maybe the long red phone is about a communication disconnect, but that would be one of age and class, not of physical distance.

The most cacophonous piece in the show buried its visual noise in a field of apparent white noise, a loose haze gathered around a central, colorful figure. The work is “Sink” by Dhruvi Acharya, and it dates from 2007:

As the five details below show, that haze around the central figure is, in fact, a warzone. Images of violence — archaic weaponry, car wrecks, bombs — are accompanied by the cartoon onomatopoeia of their associated sounds: “bang,” “blam blam blam,” “fsssssshhh,” and so forth.

Word balloons often appear empty, serving double duty as traditional containers of written sound and as visualizations of explosions and exhaust.

Many of the sounds are drawn from familiar comic-book norms, but also there are more improvisatory effects like “spakk” and “poom” and “nnhh” and a “kreeeeee” with almost too many vowels to count. It’s worth noting that for all the war-like imagery, the message of the piece is said to be as environmental as it is pacifist, and Shiva’s trident links the contemporary concerns to Indian myth.

The line work of the figures (helicopters and guns, for example) is, by and large, indistinguishable from that of the sound effects. This renders them equal on the page, serving both to elevate the prominence of the sounds, but also to usher the collective drawings into the background, a fatalistic statement about the ubiquity of violence if ever there were one.

More on the exhibit at sjmusart.org. Roots in the Air, Branches Below ran from February 25 through September 4, 2011. (Dhruvi Acharya: “Sink,” 2007; Synthetic polymer paint on canvas and panels; 48 x 48 inches; Collection of Dipti and Rakesh Mathur; Photo: Courtesy Chemould Gallery, Mumbai; Copyright Dhruvi Acharya.)

Since April 2010, Disquiet.com has hosted a monthly project called “Sketches of Sound,” in which illustrators, most of them comics artists, are invited to draw a sound-related object. I post the drawing as the background of my Twitter account, twitter.com/disquiet, and then share a bit of information about the illustrator back on Disquiet.com. Call it “curating Twitter.”

The 18th entry features this drawing by Scott Faulkner. A lifelong resident of Washington State, Faulkner graduated from the Evergreen State College in Olympia, where he contributed his first published comics to the student newspaper. There he also discovered the work of some of his cartooning heroes, Matt Groening, Lynda Barry, and Charles Burns, and moved to Seattle to join the vibrant ’90s alternative comics scene. Today, he works with the cartoonist collective The Bureau of Drawers, and more of his work can be seen at his website, vinylsaurus.com.

The previous “Sketches of Sound” contributors were, in alphabetical order, Jesse Baggs, Brian Biggs, Leela Corman, Warren Craghead III, Owen Freeman, S.L. Gallant, Brian Hagen, Dylan Horrocks, Megan Kelso, Minty Lewis, Natalia Ludmila, Darko Macan, Caesar Meadows, Justin Orr, Hannes Pasqualini, Thorsten Sideb0ard, and Gustavo Alberto Garcia Vaca.

The current issue of Nature, street date September 1, contains my interview with Jim Ottaviani, author of a newly published graphic novel that tells the life story of influential physicist Richard Feynman. The book, titled Feynman, is drawn by Leland Myrick. It’s published by First Second, and came out this past month. It’s full color, and approximately 250 pages long. The interview is behind a paywall (at nature.com), so I hope you’ll pick up a copy, or check it out at your local library. The article explores not only the life and work of the physicist, who is as famed for his bongo playing and his public speaking as for the research that earned him the 1965 Nobel Prize, but what I think of as his posthumous career: the iconification process (a kind of secular beatification) that is steadily making of him something akin to a mix of Albert Einstein and John Lennon.

One key element of the Feynman graphic novel’s storytelling is how it emphasizes the synaesthesia inherent in the imagination of its hero. In the interview, Ottaviani talks about the image-centric nature of physics (“Flip through Physical Review: there are a lot of pictures”), and connects that to Feynman’s interest in studying drawing. I didn’t get to mention this in the article, but by a strange coincidence, illustrator Myrick (whose work brings to mind early Ted McKeever) lives in Pasadena, where Feynman was for many years at Caltech.

Read an excerpt of the book at firstsecondbooks.com. More information on the book at macmillan.com. More on Ottaviani, who has written numerous comics about science, at gt-labs.com and on Myrick at lelandmyrick.com.

Since April 2010, Disquiet.com has hosted a monthly project called “Sketches of Sound,” in which illustrators, most of them comics artists, are invited to draw a sound-related object. I post the drawing as the background of my Twitter account, twitter.com/disquiet, and then share a bit of information about the illustrator back on Disquiet.com. Call it “curating Twitter.”

The 17th entry features this drawing by Caesar Meadows, a New Orleans cartoonist who has been self-publishing his own comics for the last 20 years. He’s also had his strips published regularly in a couple of free monthly local magazines, Where Y’at and Antigravity, during this past decade. Since 1999, he’s been reformatting the strips as 1″ x 1.25″ micro-comix which he sells in plastic capsule gumball machines around town. “I also enjoy giving out special edition micro-comix to folks I meet on Mardi Gras day as I marvel and meander in costume through the festive crowds,” says Meadows. He’s been part of on-going jam comic drawing collective called “dafa FUNGUS” since 1998. His latest project is “FEAST yer eyes,” an annual New Orleans illustration and comix newspaper anthology that he edits. The second issue was just published this past July.

I became friends with Caesar during the four years I lived in New Orleans (1999-2003), and I’m very happy to see his line drawing on the site. More on him and his art at jigsawjct.com, feastcomic.com, and twitter.com/jigsawjct.

The previous “Sketches of Sound” contributors were, in alphabetical order, Jesse Baggs, Brian Biggs, Leela Corman, Warren Craghead III, Owen Freeman, S.L. Gallant, Brian Hagen, Dylan Horrocks, Megan Kelso, Minty Lewis, Natalia Ludmila, Darko Macan, Justin Orr, Hannes Pasqualini, Thorsten Sideb0ard, and Gustavo Alberto Garcia Vaca.

Every month since April 2010, Disquiet.com has hosted a project called “Sketches of Sound,” in which illustrators are invited to draw a sound-related object. I post the drawing as the background of my Twitter account, twitter.com/disquiet, and then share a bit of information about the illustrator back on Disquiet.com. Call it “curating Twitter.”

The 16th entry features this drawing by Jesse Baggs. Baggs grew up in Sacramento, California, close to Fulton Avenue, the street used by Robert Crumb as reference for depictions of urban alienation and decay. Unaware of his neighborhood’s deficiencies, Baggs was happily raised on a steady diet of comics and Star Wars. He has created illustrations and designs for a variety of clients, samples of which can be found on his web sites HardPressedInk.com and JesseBaggs.com. His most recent comic, Congressional Caffeine Caucus Catastrophe!, a meditation on politics, religion, and uppers, can be read on his blog.

The previous “Sketches of Sound” contributors were, in alphabetical order, Brian Biggs, Leela Corman, Warren Craghead III, Owen Freeman, S.L. Gallant, Brian Hagen, Dylan Horrocks, Megan Kelso, Minty Lewis, Natalia Ludmila, Darko Macan, Justin Orr, Hannes Pasqualini, Thorsten Sideb0ard, and Gustavo Alberto Garcia Vaca.

Anyhow, this past Sunday’s episode of Leverage, written by Geoffrey Thorne, involved a death that occurs during a costume-party murder mystery that is staged at the home of an exceedingly corrupt businessman. At one point, the Timothy Hutton character, who has dressed like Ellery Queen, and Parker, dolled up like Nancy Drew, find themselves at opposite ends of a stairway, needing to get by a guard. They have to remain silent, so they read each other’s lips. There are subtitles for us non-lip readers, but the whole thing already has the feel of a silent movie when a tinkling piano appears in the show’s score to seal the deal — not to mention that the guard is wearing a bowler hat, straight out of a Charlie Chaplin flick. (Hutton playing Queen is an in-joke, because his father, actor Jim Hutton, played the character in the 1970s TV series.)

True Grift: The characters Hardison and Parker dressed, respectively, as a Hardy Boy and Nancy Drew in an episode of the series Leverage that briefly flirted with the concept of “silent television”

The sequence is one of the longest wordless non-action/non-sex/non-people-in-labs-with-colorful-test-tubes scenes on television in recent memory. TV musicals, as series and as standalone episodes, have been the rage for some time now, and despite being a huge admirer of the late Dennis Potter (whose The Singing Detective is the ur-text for most fourth-wall-breaking, singing-and-dancing television spectacles), I’d say it’s high time that silent TV episodes had their moment. Being an intimate medium watched generally in the privacy of one’s home, television lends itself to the silent treatment.

What’s sort of funny, as a side note, is that neither Ellery Queen nor Nancy Drew has ever been the subject of silent movie, at least to the best of my knowledge. The two earliest Ellery Queen are streaming online for free and are titled The Spanish Cape Mystery (1935) and The Mandarin Mystery (1936). The first Nancy Drew movie appeared in 1938, more than a decade after The Jazz Singer (1927) popularized the “talkie.”

If the fun Leverage sequence brings to mind the ctheory.net essay on “silent television” by Robert Briggs that I wrote about last September, the quasi-anachronism is straight out of this great xkcd.com webcomic:

There’s an episode recap for “The 10 Li’l Grifters Job” at tnt.tv, and in the next week the full episode should stream there for free.

Shhh! It’s a Theater: Speaking of silents, as well as of history as viewed through the lens of the present: it’s pretty genius that the San Francisco Silent Film Festival teamed up with the local public library. Read about it at examiner.com. Truth be told, though, this is one of those situations when words in common suggest correlations where they don’t necessarily exist. For one thing, the projectors that played silent movies were notoriously loud. For another, live music performances were part of the experience, and the music was anything but silent, as part of its role was to cover up projector noise. The showings could, reportedly, get pretty rowdy. We only call them “silent” movies in retrospect. It’s an example, as debcha (in a message from her twitter.com/debcha account) recently reminded me, of what is called a “retronym”: Until the introduction of the talkie, silent movies were simply movies, just as until the introduction of the electric guitar, acoustic guitars were simply guitars.

Every month since April 2010, Disquiet.com has hosted a project called “Sketches of Sound,” in which illustrators are invited to draw a sound-related object. I post the drawing as the background of my Twitter account, twitter.com/disquiet, and then share a bit of information about the illustrator back on Disquiet.com. Call it “curating Twitter.”

For the 15th entry, in time for the Fourth of July, S.L. Gallant volunteered for service. He writes of the piece:

My late father, Larrie Londin (aka Ralph Gallant), was a studio drummer who started out at Motown with a band called the Headliners, the first white band signed to the V.I.P. label. His r&b sound led him to Nashville, where he backed Dolly Parton, Chet Atkins, and Jerry Reed, and was one of the few to work with Elvis. Later, before his death, he played for Steve Perry, of Journey, and prog rocker Adrian Belew, and for all of them it was his unique drum sound that made him an ideal studio musician. My father loved to accumulate all types of percussion instruments, but snare drums were his favorite. That collection filled the house, and the one I remember most was a colonial-style marching snare that we used as an end table.

S.L. Gallant is a comic illustrator, born in Nashville, now living in Washington, D.C., with his wife, Melissa. It was during his time as an on-staff illustrator in advertising and public relations that he developed the ability to mimic various artistic styles and to meet impossible deadlines. These traits have allowed him to artistically jump between titles such as Titan’s magazine versions of Shrek and Monsters vs. Aliens, to BBC’s Torchwood. Currently, he is the regular artist on IDW’s G.I. Joe: Real American Hero, which continues the original storyline of the classic characters, and is written by the series’ creator, Larry Hama.

More of Gallant’s work can be seen at slgallant.com and his blog, slgallant.wordpress.com.

The previous “Sketches of Sound” contributors were, in alphabetical order, Brian Biggs, Leela Corman, Warren Craghead III, Owen Freeman, Brian Hagen, Dylan Horrocks, Megan Kelso, Minty Lewis, Natalia Ludmila, Darko Macan, Justin Orr, Hannes Pasqualini, Thorsten Sideb0ard, and Gustavo Alberto Garcia Vaca.