Cryogenic Comix # 23

Cryogenic Comix # 23
Copyright (c) 2019 Steve Willis

The drawings are felt tip on thin bond, probably drawn in the first half of 1980.


Old memories resurface as I rediscover my own drawings from about two/thirds of my life ago.

The equine drawings come from my upbringing on a 55-acre farm where my Dad raised Shetlands as a sideline. For part of the summer of 1980 I went down there to help build a barbed-wire fence. I recall that every time I slammed that posthole digger into the ground a little cloud of ash from the Mt. St. Helens eruption from May 18, 1980 would rise up. Heavy dense stuff. Most likely still in my lungs today!

Notes: The TV antenna sort of dates this, as does the Dean Rusk reference. Actually even in 1980 most people had forgotten about Dean Rusk, one of the "Best and the Brightest."

Postcard - Ocean Shores, Washington - 1970s

"Ocean Shores Golf Club. Home of Pat Boone Celebrity Classic. Ocean Shores, Washington 98551. Eighteen Holes - 6145 Yards - Par 72 - Providing many challenges the first nine holes border the man-made canal. The second nine holes are lined with beautiful trees."

"Long tee shots and large velvet greens provide a golfing experience on a course often referred to as the finest in the West. Club House has a coffee shop, dining room, 19th Hole, Sauna Baths, Electric Carts, and a Pro Shop featuring fine sports wear and equipment. Centrally located, these facilities cater to conventions and special Tournaments."


Probably from the 1970s.

I have a lot of Scots blood, but the allure of golf remains elusive to me. I think Robin Williams' bit on golf pretty much pegs my attitude on this surreal sport. When my Father was in his 20s he had a set of golf clubs, the bag, etc. because he thought knowing the sport would help him rise in the private sector. We're talking JFK era here. He always called those clubs "idiot sticks," and promptly dumped them when we moved from the city to the farm.

Postcard - McChord Air Force Base, Washington

"McChord Air Force Base, Washington. Located between Tacoma and Olympia, adjacent to Interstate 5, this premier defense facility serves the entire Pacific Northwest and Alaska. The strategic location provides excellent facilities for communication with all Pacific Rim Countries as well as Western U.S. and Hawaii."

From the late 1970s probably. Mt. Rainier is in the background. This base was merged with neighboring U.S. Army Fort Lewis in 2010 to form Joint Base Lewis-McChord (JBLM).

My Dad was in the Air Force. He served in Europe during the Truman era.

Morty Comix # 2519

Morty Comix # 2519 was slid behind a sign on an outdoor kitchen at Millersylvania State Park, Thurston County, Washington. Most of the structures at this park were built by the CCC in the 1930s.

Here I am with my Dad at Millersylvania, July 1959. As you can tell by my furtive expression, I knew that over a half century later I would be involved a bit of artistic mischief at this same place, so I was scoping the scene for a good place to hide a Morty Comix.

Morty Comix # 2481

In the dead of night I went to my tool shed

And grabbed a clam shovel. 

I don't actually dig for clams even though I live close to the Coast. I have fond memories of clam digging with my Dad when I was a kid, but that's because I was spending time with my Dad. Today I use the clam shovel when I clean out my woodstove and stovepipe. Here's my woodstove almost two years ago after I replaced the old stovepipe. Notice Buster in the lower left corner doing what he does best-- eating.

The place where I bought that stovepipe in Olympia ironically burned down in April, 2011 shortly after my purchase.

But, back to comic art. Morty Comix # 2481 was placed inside a big plastic bag

 And wrapped tightly to keep it from getting wet

 

 It was buried under a lid of turf thanks to using the clam shovel

Now it is under a street lamp in McCleary, Washington where it will be unearthed by archaeologists in the distant future.

My Aunt Pat Pearson and Olympia Folk Art

I grew up with 24 uncles and aunts and out of all them, my Aunt Pat Pearson (1922-2007) was the most unusual. And in my family, that is saying a lot, believe me.

In other places I have documented how wonderful my parents were in encouraging my development as a cartoonist. My Father had a genetic gift for drawing which was handicapped by his early years in grinding poverty in the Virginia Cumberland Mountains. Being great at illustrating didn't help much when one was trying to survive. But he was a great artist, just in the way he regarded life. In the rare times he drew anything, I recall being thrilled by the result. He didn't know it, but he was a poet and conceptual artist by the life he led. He took risks no sane person would take, and he was rewarded for those decisions.

My Mother, being a professional educator and the product of Washington pioneer stock (I had to slip that in), saw very early that I loved the graphic art form and really nurtured and promoted my art education. Ironically, although my Mom was not an artist herself, she recognized the strain more than my Dad, and saw that it was an important part of being human.

So I was lucky in the parent department.

So, what did my Aunt Pat contribute to this foundation?

Pat never had any children and she eventually became the stereotype Crazy Cat Lady, leaving perhaps as many 20 cats in her little apartment when she died. But when I was little she was the most glamorous woman I knew. She designed and made her own clothes. She carried herself as if she was on the runway. She was creative. And she painted.

At the time (mid-1960s) I recall being so impressed that someone I knew had actually painted a picture! In oil! That had a big impact on me. A grownup I was related to had produced a painting!

As an adult I now see her work as a form of folk art. But I honor her influence on my own creativity by hanging one of her paintings in my hallway. It is, I believe, a picture of 4th and Capitol, in Olympia, Washington, facing east in the late 19th century. 

Yes, it is not a great work of art by itself. But it means a lot to me.

 Pat's painting at the end of my hallway

 Another Pat painting

Pat, 1960

Me and my hero, my Dad, July 1959, Millersylvania

I actually recall this event in a spotty way.

So Aunt Pat, here's to your memory and contribution. You will be happy to know every single cat you left behind found a good home after you left us. And you let me know it was OK to be a grownup and creative. Thank you.

Buttons - Presidential Campaign - 1980

Anderson For President

Congressman John Anderson of Illinois initially ran in the 1980 primaries as a Republican, but refused to join his party in their extreme tilt to the Right, so he bolted and ran as an independent. One of the more interesting third party campaigns in recent history, he enjoyed support from college campuses (and my Republican father even voted for him) but ultimately had no impact on the election, which was a landslide for Ronald Reagan. Then he vanished. So far as I know, John Anderson is still alive and is 90 years old today.

Morty Comix # 2409 - # 2415 Watercolor Series

Morty Comix # 2409 through # 2415 can be called the Watercolor Series. Before I post these things, they will require some explanation since the final products came out even weirder than normal, and even I will admit that is saying a lot.

Last year when Colin Upton told me "Color is for the weak," I really knew what he meant. So call this a moment of weakness while I was on a staycation.

First, I tied a string between a young elm that is sharing some kind of leaf disease with all the other elms in my yard, and a tree from the Southeast called, I think, the Devil's Walking Stick. This was a tree my Dad, may he rest in peace, gave me to plant. When a guy from Alabama fixed my garage roof a few years ago, he asked why I had this big weed in my yard on purpose.

Then, using some of the very same clothespins I employed in the Bezango WA 985 art exhibit at Batdorf and Bronson in Olympia several years ago, I hung up seven blank sheets of letter size typing paper.

What I was about to do has been on my mind for quite some time. A year ago, maybe more, maybe less, I had purchased a cheap watercolor set and a suction-cup toy gun. I laid them out with a styrofoam cup filled with water on an issue of our local weekly newspaper, the East County News.

I dipped the suction cup end in water and after that in the watercolor set. Then I took aim and fired at close range. I did this over and over, for about 30 minutes.

Yes, here's a case where a gun is really a tool for something good. The "gun is a tool" argument is frequently repeated by the gun crazies. In my situation, I was making something fun. But the real gun is a tool for one thing: wounding or killing someone. And that is not good. 

Here's the ironic part. I dislike guns and think the National Rifle Association is full of paranoid rightwing nutjobs with a penis complex. Oops, I was being quadruple redundant there. My review of Bowling for Columbine in Cheaper by the Dozen 6 pretty much summarizes my mixed feelings on firearms.

Anyway, here's an example of the results of my efforts. This sheet of paper eventually became Morty Comix # 2410 after I finished with it. You'll see.

Sarah happened to be here when I was performing this act of art, wondering what the Hell I was doing as I failed to explain what I was up to while she was visiting. So she took this photo since she is a journalist. I apparently did not inherit my Willis grandfather's deadeye aim when he had his famous 1931 shootout, killing two people and taking three bullets himself and living through it. Even at this close range, I still missed several times.

When this orgy of watercolor violence was over the toy gun was no longer functional. I'm sure members of the NRA can appreciate how Freudian that is. I had to throw all the supplies away.


At any rate, now you have the background on the next round of Morty Comix.

Favorite Movie Quotes: Shenandoah

"It's like all wars, I guess. The undertakers are winning. And the politicians who talk about the glory of it. And the old men who talk about the need of it. And the soldiers, well, they just wanna go home."

[Reviewed in Cheaper by the Dozen 2]

Some personal trivia. My Mother picked my first name, my Father my middle name. According to my Virginian raised Dad, if my parents had switched roles in the name game I would be known today as Shenandoah. Mom probably still would've picked Steven, but as my middle name. So I could've been Shenandoah Steven Willis.