Category Archives: surrealism

The Uncritical Critic Watches Another Quirky Movie

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Yesterday was a weird day.  If you looked carefully at the mental map I made of Mickey’s head the other day, you realize that Uncle Slappy’s Big Box of Weirdness occupies a key position in the top center.  I had a traffic accident in the parking lot of Long Middle School yesterday morning, banging bumpers with a lady named Vilma.  The sun was in my eyes, and she started to go, then suddenly stopped for no reason I could see.  No damage was done to anything but my pride.  My wife put her parents, Tatang and Inang, on an airplane yesterday bound for the Philippine Islands, going home for a visit.  Afterwards, my wife was feeling mortal, betting me that she was going to die before me even though I have the head start of six incurable diseases and surviving cancer once already.  There are no symptoms for her impending heart attack, so I will probably win that bet.  But the point is, it was a weird time yesterday to stumble weirdly over a weird and wacky movie on Netflix called Moonrise Kingdom.  It is a Romeo and Juliet sort of story about two twelve-year-olds who fall in love at first sight, and though their families try to keep them apart, they end up together.  Thankfully it is not a Shakespearian Tragedy where everybody dies at the end, though Sam is struck by lightning and the big storm nearly drowns all the boy scouts.  It is more like a Shakespearian Comedy where everybody gets married at the end, though the twelve-year-olds don’t get married at the end… rather, they are married by the middle.

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Wes Anderson is the genius director behind movies like;

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None of which I have seen, but now have to watch ALL of them sooner or later.  Kinda like the mad quest to see every Tim Burton movie ever made.  I am one of the few idiots out there who think Dark Shadows was a truly wonderful movie, and along with Edward Scissor-hands, one of the finest things Johnny Depp has ever done.

In Moonrise Kingdom Anderson uses tracking shots at the beginning that shift quickly from one room to the next in a way that invokes an old-time slide show.  The story is set in 1965 in Maine, and is filled with all kinds of iconic references to things we 60’s kids all vividly recall.

The movie also tells the love story of Sam and Suzy with a painter’s sense of iconic pictures that focus you on important plot points and themes.

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And there are numerous quotable bits that make the movie what we teachers refer to as a text-rich environment, complete with phony kids’ books and maps and notes.

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The all-star cast is pretty good, too.

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This is now one of my new favorite movies.  It is a happy-ending-type fairy tale with no fairies in it.  It is full of ineffectual and incompetent adults who have rules of behavior like grown-ups and motivations like goofy kids… just like real life.  The plot is driven by the notion that anything you do in life is a mistake, and mistakes have consequences, but you have to do them anyway because, well… that’s life.

Am I telling you that you should watch this movie too?  Well, you should… but, no.  I am simply gushing about this quirky movie because I like it, and yesterday was a very weird day.

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Filed under goofiness, humor, movie review, strange and wonderful ideas about life, surrealism

Surrealist Eyes

The moral of the story; never challenge Cowboy Flash Crumpwell to a rubber gun duel.

The moral of the story; never challenge Cowboy Flash Crumpwell to a rubber gun duel.

He was the marshal in charge at Crumpwell’s Wild West Dude Ranch and Rabbit Farm.  It was his duty to create order and peace on a lawless frontier… and keep the fur-bearing bunnies happy, and making more rabbit fur.  So, when Pistoleer Pete Pistachio-Mustachio came to town, it was totally up to Marshal Flash Crumpwell to put an end to his terrible reign of Pistachio-ness.

They faced off on either end of Main Street.  Their spurs clanked and jangled as they started their bowlegged walks towards destiny and each other.

Then the guns came out.

The triggers were squeezed.

The barrels began to wiggle and elongate like elastic melting on a hot stove.  Up and down and all around dueling rubber guns dipped and danced and maneuvered through two dimensional space, until finally… Flash’s gun found a target in Pete’s ear.

“I should’ve known better than to hide a target in my ear!” Pete said as he surrendered.  “I just didn’t think any fool with a rubber gun would ever look there.”

sur·re·al·ism
səˈrēəˌlizəm/
noun
  1. a 20th-century avant-garde movement in art and literature that sought to release the creative potential of the unconscious mind, for example by the irrational juxtaposition of images.

The horrible truth is, I have always been a surrealist.  My unconscious mind is constantly bombarding my life and work with irrational images.  And my ultimate source of creativity comes from a simple assumption.  “I can make sense out of the irrational things in my dreams and the movies constantly playing in my mind’s eye.”  Of course, that assumption is total hoo-haw.  People really can’t make sense out of nonsense.  But I am the idiot that always swims upstream.  I tend to try impossible things that can’t possibly be possible, and I end up pretending I can do them.  I am not the only one who has ever done this silly, stupid thing.  Notice what the auteur has to say about Chuck Jones, a cartoonist and fellow Surrealist;

So here is my conclusion; If you have ever wondered, “Why am I drawn to reading the meandering nonsense of this daft bugger?  And why does he do all this irrational and random stuff?”… It is because I am desperately infected with the affliction of surrealism.  Take pity on me.  Laugh at my kooky quirks.

MickeyX22

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Life is Surreal

I have told you before that I am a seriously committed surrealist.  Not in the sense of “committed to an institution” sort of committed, but seriously committed.  All cartoonists are by nature surrealists.  Bill Watterson created Calvin and Hobbes around the idea that a toy tiger can come to life in the evil imagination of a child.  Jim Davis created Garfield around a seriously self-absorbed and greedy talking cat.  Elsie Segar created Popeye about a one-eyed sailor who drank from a magic pool to gain invincibility and maintains it with iron-fortified cans of spinach.  To be a surrealist, you must put unlikely things together to make something fantastically super-real… so unreal it seems flawlessly real… er, how do you actually define surrealism without resorting to the dictionary definition about “juxtaposing severely mismatched items created with photo-realism”?

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Surrealism is actually more real than realism.  If you simply take a photograph of your picture idea, a picture of a birthday cake or a picture of a clown or a picture of your favorite bicycle’s back wheel, you are not showing the reality of life.  You are only taking a photograph of a thing.  You cannot get more than the physical, objective reality of that thing captured on photographic paper… or in a digital image (I am learning not to be a dinosaur even though I am old).  Reality is so much more than that.  It is the feeling, the evocation, the nuance, the… stuffy stuff-ness of stuff… and an infinity of other things that make reality seem real.

Take for a moment the whole notion of flying cars.  I am trying to create a hero-worship colored-pencil Paffooney about Astroboy riding in a flying car.  I am still puzzling out how I am going to make this scene look like the car is flying by juxtaposing something.  (By “juxtaposing something”, I, of course, simply mean putting one thing next to another thing… but it is important for artists to use hundred-dollar art words wherever possible to prove that they are serious artists) (I, of course, am actually making fun of my own stuffy stuff-ness in that last parenthetic expression.) (Maybe juxtaposing parenthetic expressions with the phrase “I, of course,” in all three of them is a kind of surrealism?)

So, why am I taking on this silly topic right now?  Right now I am a working artist in the midst of making art.  I am not just a cartoonist… I also write novels… silly young adult novels about voodoo men and snow babies and incompetent alien invasions and fairies successfully invading a middle school in Iowa.   I am suffering from six incurable diseases and am a cancer survivor… so I could drop dead of a heart attack or stroke any second… I may not finish most of the artwork I am now working on… and I am blogging…   I need a lot more silly topics like this to fill 500 words a day for every day of 2015.  I am writing this down in a published blog on WordPress because I need to put all my thinking down in a crystallized form to preserve it in case the opportunity to do so suddenly ceases.  And all of that muddle of meaning is so surreal it hurts.  I could do a better job than this of summing up and pulling it all together in a tighter package, but it is all about the messy business of surrealism, after all… another way of saying… “It’s about life.” 

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More Nuts n’ Bolts… This Time Mostly Bolts

Okay, this is another filler piece to allow me to post every day of 2015.  But it does give me a chance to write down a few things I have been thinking about…  And I do realize allowing me to think nowadays is a completely risky proposition.  But when you talk about Nuts and Bolts, you are talking about how things are put together.  The nut keeps the attachment from sliding apart and failing to do its job, but the real work of bonding things together is done by the bolt.  So, to keep mangling the metaphor until it is either as tightly bolted as it will go, or it bursts from the torque and stress, let me talk about some bolts in my cartooning endeavors.

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This most recent pen and ink Paffooney is a cartoon panel about Pirates from the imaginary dream world of Fantastica.  In the cartoon environment I am working on now, Pirates take your gold and valuables basically by being bankers and compounding your interest…  mostly by compounding really, really hard… like with hammers and heavy swords.   So here is one of the bolts holding my posts together.   I am financially troubled right now (right now meaning the last twenty years) by trouble with credit card debt and banks.  I fight that kind of trouble with swords of satire.  You find me complaining a lot about this particular topic by mostly metaphorical means.

And that leads to another bolt that is a common rivet in the girders of my purple paisley prose.  I use metaphors and drawings in a way that can be characterized by the artistic term (or is that autistic term?) surrealism.  Yes, I am an out-of-the-closet surrealist like Salvador Dali, Juan Miro, and Rene Magritte.  I would like to argue that I am also a surrealist in the manner of Bill Watterson, creator of Calvin and Hobbes, Charles Schultz, creator of Peanuts, and Dan Piraro, creator of Bizzaro, but cartoonists in general don’t tend to be out of the closet, willing to admit that they juxtapose disjointed images with realist elements in them to make a comic point or raise an emotional response.  That is something most cartoonists are unwilling to let their parents understand about them… that, or they simply don’t know what big words like juxtapose mean… because cartoonist are generally unwilling to look things up in the dictionary.  I hope this paragraph doesn’t make your brain hurt.  But if it does… well, that’s why most of us surrealists try really hard to keep it secret and end up living a double life.

I think you can also tell by today’s post that I need to revisit this idea of examining bolts.  I am swiftly coming to the end of today’s 500 words, and I have only covered two working bolts.  What kind of structure can stand up to high winds with only two bolts in the entire thing?  But hopefully it won’t all suddenly collapse before I have a chance to come back and place a few more bolts.  And on that note, I am at 514.

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Architecture for Clowns

Try not to be upset with me for drawing a naked lady. You see, she is not really a lady, she is a caryatid, a stone pillar for holding up a building.  Besides, I have been recently very ill, and drawing naked ladies makes me happy, even though it is a sin and means I will probably burn in hell.  I am a hopeless sinner in this regard.  I got kicked off Pinterest for liking an oil painting of a naked lady.  I think it was a painting by William Adolphe Bouguereau.  How could I be so terrible?  You should check out my post about his sinful, horrible paintings so you can see how terrible I am for yourself. (Bouguereau)  carytidOf course, This post is not about naked ladies at all, so why am I fuming and ranting and telling all my darkest secrets about that?

This post is about architecture, about giving structure to things, about holding things together and holding things up.  Is it clever that I drew this picture of an ornate pillar and placed it in this post so it looks like it is standing on later paragraphs and holding up the introduction?  I find weird surrealist things like that help me write stuff that makes a few people laugh.  It helps me because I can focus on nonsensical side-stuff like that (mixed up with obscure puns and alliterations like “pillar” and “placed” that, when cooked together with goofy rhythms in over-long sentences end up sounding funnier than they really are), and then I can say stuff that is actually funny because I don’t realize how wrong, or weird, or silly some of these words I am futzing it all up with truly are.  (And I am amazed that the Pinterest police haven’t come and kicked me off WordPress for using a word like “futzing”, even though they don’t know what it means.  Heck, even the spell-checker didn’t object to the word!)

But someone like me who is trying to be funny needs structure more than anyone else you can think of.  Why?  Because the sad-clown-crying-on-the-inside is so very true.  The dark dips of depression… pain, illness, and more pain… family stress from others in my family who also suffer…  That’s what makes the laughing so very necessary.  You need the lighter stuff to fill up the room (somewhat like a really big fart) because you depend on the sheer buoyancy of it to lift the entire house up and keep it from sinking to the very center of the earth.  (And the stink of it can also help keep you awake when otherwise you might never get out of bed again)… (But please don’t light any matches around my house.)

So, in conclusion, this stuff I write does have basic structures, basic rules.  It has a beginning, a middle, and an end.  It has a theme, a point that needs to be made,  And then it needs to end with some kind of a kicker line or punch line… because when that finally hits me square in the face (like a pie thrown by a pie-whacker clown), it helps me remember… I am still alive, and I can still laugh about it.

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Filed under humor, Paffooney, surrealism