« The majority has no right to impose its stupidity on the minority. » — George Wolinski (1934-2015)
I realised this morning that yesterday was Mr. Wolinski’s birthday, so here’s a quick post. Despite what one might expect from the name, Wolinski was born in Tunisia; aged eighty, he perished in the terrorist attack on the Parisian offices of Charlie-Hebdo on that grim Wednesday of January 2015. For more context, see last year’s related post Never Forget: Cabu, le grand Duduche.
It would be futile to attempt to do justice to a brilliant, prolific and varied career spanning seven decades, so I won’t waste anyone’s time with such foolishness. Here’s Lambiek’s biographical essay, and here’s a conte cruel from Wolinski’s first solo collection, Histoires lamentables (1965, Hara-Kiri).
« Jean was the lone survivor of a fire that claimed his entire family. Having suffered atrocious burns to the face, he was as hideous as one could imagine. In order to avoid exposing others to that grim spectacle, he went to live deep in the woods with the wild beasts. However, each year, the returning Spring invoked in him strange reveries. » A PATHETIC TALE. « He then could not refrain from lurking about the homes of men. And so it was, one day, that he heard Isabelle’s song. Her voice made him forget his usual caution. » « Isabelle was blind. At the idea that she could not witness his ugliness, Jean felt an extraordinary emotion. He found the courage to speak to her. She responded with kindness, and he dared return. » « Soon, they became inseparable, and at last Isabelle agreed to follow him into the forest. »« Long months of happiness ensued. And then, Isabelle realised that, little by little, her sight was returning. When Jean learned the wonderful news, he was at once happy and desperate. Because he could no believe that Isabelle would remain by his side, now that she saw his ugliness. But Isabelle told him that his physical appearance mattered little to her, and that she would always love him. »« Jean, however, could not help but be miserable. One day, as he was hunting for mushrooms in the forest, he came upon a hare caught in a snare, pitied him and set him free. As it happened, that hare was a powerful genie who, in gratitude, transformed him into a handsome young man. »« Jean, delirious with joy, ran to meet Isabelle. The young girl was working at the beehive. Jean took her in his arms. »« Sweet Isabelle, assailed by this young stranger and fearing for her virtue, crowned him with the hive. »« Panicked with suffering, poor Jean fled like a madman. »« That evening, Jean returned late… » « Ah, if you only knew what happened to me. Some horrid masher attacked me. But I gave him a bad time. After what I’ve done to him, he must look quite a fright! »
from the look of this early style, I get the sense that young Wolinski was under the artistic sway of, say, Will Elder and Al Jaffee…. not a bad place to start!
Here’s a trio of his early gag cartoons (circa the early 1960s), working in a more natural, more direct style:
« Working in collaboration means spending half of one’s time explaining to the other that his ideas are stupid. » Wolinski served as the editor-in-chief of Charlie Mensuel from 1970 to 1981. His chief non-editorial contribution was his scripting, for his friend — and fellow Georges — Pichard, the adventures of Paulette, which ran in the magazine from 1970 to 1976. For more Pichard (and Paulette!), check out ds’ post Georges Pichard’s Distressing Damsels. This is Charlie Mensuel no. 80 (Sept. 1975), art — naturally — by Georges Pichard.« Happiness is an occupation » (2016, Glénat). Here’s an example of Wolinski’s fully evolved, more streamlined visual style, from the cover of a posthumous autobiographical collection. Wolinski was interred in Paris’ Cimetière du Montparnasse. Photo by Stéphane X. « Murdered on January 7 during the attack against Charlie-Hebdo. »
In the spirit of saluting our heroes while they’re still around to get a boost from it…
A few weeks ago, I got wind of a delightful bit of news: that local favourite Russell Kommer Myers now holds, according to Guinness, the world record for Longest running daily cartoon strip by a single author. Perhaps because of his chug-along consistency, the prodigious Myers is generally taken for granted. Well — I’m happy to say — not in these parts: see our tribute post from a while back, Growing Old Gracelessly With Broom-Hilda, for further, abundantly illustrated praise.
Here’s some of what the folks at Guinness (not the Dublin ones) had to say:
« The longest running daily cartoon strip by a single author is “Broom-Hilda” by Russell Myers (USA), which has been in continuous publication for 53 years 292 days since first published by the Chicago Tribune Syndicate on 19 April 1970, as of 5 February 2024.
Russell was born “BT” (before television) and fell in love with comics and cartooning as a child. He started a collection of over 2,000 comic books, which he still has.
After years of having other comic strips rejected, Russell sold “Broom-Hilda,” which became an overnight success. He is a “one-man shop,” writing and drawing every strip himself, over 19,710 as of the 54th anniversary. »
For a little perspective, here’s what Lambiek had to say on the subject:
« He leaves previous record holders behind, like Frank Dickens (‘Bristow’, 51 years), Charles M. Schulz (‘Peanuts’, 49 years) and Marc Sleen (‘Nero’, 45 years). Yet Myers is still behind Ed Payne (‘Billy the Boy Artist’, 56 years), Fred Lasswell (‘Barney Google & Snuffy Smith’, 59 years), Jim Russell (‘The Potts’, 62 years) and Russ Johnson (‘Mr. Oswald’, 62 years, though this was a monthly comic). » Honestly, one is inclined to gently bring up the touchy, controversial issue of, ahem… assistants.
Having already dealt with Broom Hilda, let’s dig a little deeper. In 1974, early in his strip’s run, he contributed illustrations to California paediatrician Lewis A. Coffin’s book, The Grandmother Conspiracy Exposed (Good Nutrition for the Growing Child)… and did a lovely job. Given the ever-fickle nature of the dietary business — to say nearly nothing of its oft-political ramifications — Coffin’s book now seems of its time and place, but he was pretty progressive, and put forth a lot of sound notions. Here are some of Mr. Myers’ fun chapter illustrations:
« The best way to get vitamins is to eat foods which contain them. »« The advantages of breast feeding are well known: lack of preparation, sterility, natural warmth, ready availability, proper nutritional balance of ingredients, prevention of anemia, attractiveness of container design, transfer of protective factors against disease, apparent lower incidence of allergic disease, relative absence of intolerance to milk, and all the emotional gain for both mother and child. » « Unless you live in a semi-tropical area or are a heavy manual labourer who sweats profusely for long periods, you probably require no salt beyond that found naturally in food stuffs. »« I believe that a person who has felt a sun-warmed, firm but ripe tomato in his hand, lifted it up to his nose and savoured the deep, earthy aroma, and tasted the full, tart-sweet taste, juice and seeds dripping down his chin, will never forget the look, feel, smell or taste of that real tomato, and will know how to pick out the best tomatoes in the supermarket, because he will have that supreme standard to measure them against. »« My children love raw vegetables. They dislike many cooked vegetables, often the same ones they like raw. While I’m not saying you should sell the stove, it seems they sense that something’s missing after cooking. » « For many years Americans felt secure in the belief that the government and, more specifically, the Food and Drug Administration was constantly screening all processed food for harmful additives. It has finally become evident that this is not the case. » « Most school systems have completely abdicated the responsibility for nutritional education and have totally misused their most potent teaching tool, example, in the name of economy. » « Your children will sneak around your back and gorge at the neighbour’s house, or will slither down to the local store and furtively cram candy-bars and soft-drinks down their deprived throats. »« It wasn’t until television came along that the finely honed art of brain-washing children came to full flower. »« … we know that the majority of peoples in the world not only don’t drink milk, but they would be quite ill if they did. »« You would naturally assume that your local school’s lunch program was nutritionally a good one. »And here’s my durably bound copy of this lovely tome, discarded early this century from the library of Alma College, a private Presbyterian liberal arts college in Alma, Michigan.
And since I’ve touched upon Mr. Myers’ Broom Hilda achievement, I would be remiss in not giving our readers a look at what he’s been up to lately. After all, an endurance record means little if the work itself has scant remaining merit. If you ask me, his timeless charm has weathered the years admirably well.
A Sunday strip from June 9, 2024.And a daily from June 15, 2024. Pretty sharp for a guy in his mid-eighties!
Despite the online abundance of all manner of cat cartoons, the work of Russian artist Vasya Lozhkin (the nom de plume of Alexei Kudelin, born in 1976, lawyer by profession) stands out. Passed around on social media with equal enthusiasm by housewives looking for a giggle, journalists foraging for a satirical cartoon to supplement an article, and art lovers with a penchant for the feline, his paintings run the gamut from wistfully sentimental to quite scary, often in some combination thereof.
One can argue whether Lozhkin is actually an Artist or not (capital A intended) — he himself says that he loves painting, but is no painter. As far as I’m concerned, his eye for colour and striking compositions compensate for whatever deficiency may exist in terms of actual drawing talent. He’s unabashedly prolific, returning again and again to the same themes, populating his world with an addictive medley of orange tomcats, grannies of a threatening disposition, sad Slavic bears and grey bureaucrats of ill intent… as well as good sprinkle of ‘ordinary’ people gone mad, with or without the presence of alcohol. There’s a lot of alcohol.
‘I’m an artist! I have a certificate!’ The author posing next to one of his paintings.
It is Lozhkin’s cats that mostly grab the public’s fickle heart, thus providing their creator with what must be a fairly steady income from knick-knacks of all kinds, à la Kliban*. I’m glad. If it didn’t involve ordering stuff from Russia, I’d be first in line for, say, a mug or two. He has produced something like five thousand paintings so far, exhibiting no shyness whatsoever about recreating particularly successful canvases. He notes that ‘I like cats, but so does my audience. Since my job is to feed my family, I feed it with cats.’ His pragmatism strikes one as being almost defensive.
« Life is a merry carnival »
«Smile, and this world will smile back at you! »
« Talking about the ideas behind Lozhkin’s paintings is like explaining a joke — the explanation will not make it funnier or clearer. His metaphysical world is a sort of peculiar successor to the classic Lubok, where a highly amusing image with a straightforward caption is filled with philosophical meaning. Grotesque buffoonery is aimed to the public exposure of a man’s self, his hidden aspirations and his dreams. The Skomorokh makes an absurd mockery of events, turns the innermost self inside out, so that Man can see his soul — see it and laugh at the absurdity of its ideals. » [source in Russian]
«Stuffing your face while Motherland is sleeping? »
«Improving the marketable appearance »
«Freemasons invent rock’n’roll in order to wreck USSR »
« Each sees what he wants to see. And hears what he wants to hear. But with the sense of smell, this trick does not work: if one early morning you go stand in the middle of a field, knee-deep in manure, squint your eyes and take a sniff, you’re certainly not going to smell violets. » On the topic of sweet violets…
«Learn to play guitar, and all broads will be yours! »
«Get down, fool! »
« Glamour cockroaches got into Petrovich’s head by accident »
‘Cockroaches in the head‘ is a popular idiom, meaning somebody’s mind is messy or full of idiomatic eccentricities. Do professional art critics ignore Lozhkin’s cats et al because this isn’t high art, or because they’re perplexed? Occasional exhibitions, if not very well attended, are distinctly enthusiastically attended by ‘people with cockroaches in their heads’.
«A soul’s suffering will be healed with love »
Komsomolskaya Pravda (the ‘Komsomol truth’) included Lozhkin in its series of ‘Best Contemporary Artists’, dedicating its 15th volume to his art. On one hand, he is now amusingly rubbing elbows with Edvard Munch (volume 6) or Salvador Dali (volume 30)…. currently the series is up to 34 (Pablo Picasso, and no, I don’t understand which logic these choices are governed by, either). Lozhkin was amused by this, apparently. From this end of the world, having anything to do with a pro-Putin newspaper** with Soviet roots is disturbing, but then again… I don’t have to survive in that climate.
Veer to the right towards the traditional Slavic bear family for ‘Motherland’, stray to the left for ‘Abroad’, with its circus of horrors and immoralities. Internet denizens are scarily divided about this painting – is this satire, or brainwashing? I’ll let the reader decide, based on the rest of Lozhkin’s oeuvre as glimpsed in this post.
In an interview, Lozhkin said that the fairy tales he creates always have a happy ending, despite heavy elements of psychosis. He also mentioned that lately he’s been trying to accentuate on the positive, to evoke pleasant emotions from his audience. I admire the motive, but I’m not sure he believes in it himself — there is little doubt that the darkness deepens.
« Each one of us, if you look carefully, has this bottomless depth; everything is in there, the icy horror, this hopeless darkness, gray hopelessness and green melancholy, as well as terrible laughter, pandemonium, devils, animals, cockroaches… »
Who's Out There? 