Panel Cartoon Cornucopia

Roland Topor’s Unvarnished Truth

January 7, 2022August 24, 2026gasp655 Comments

« Topor is probably the greatest graphic mind of the twentieth century. » — Seymour Chwast

Well, that’s quite a lofty claim… but given the source, one that must be seriously considered.

Are you familiar with Roland Topor‘s work? Perhaps you’ve seen Roman Polanski’s 1976 adaptation of Topor’s novel Le locataire chimérique (1964). Or seen the singular animated film La planète sauvage / The Fantastic Planet (1973). Maybe you’ve seen some of his arresting film poster art (The Tin Drum, Realm of the Senses… and more). Were you perhaps an early reader of France’s legendarily transgressive magazine, Hara-Kiri, journal bête et méchant? Or, at the other end of the scale, did you grow up with Groucha, Lola and the Gluons on his charmingly bizarre 1980’s kids’ show, Téléchat?

All the same, Topor (Jan. 7, 1938 – Apr. 16, 1997) — eighty-four years ago today — is one of those rare fellows (like, say, Shel Silverstein) who achieved great success at whatever they undertook… and without compromising their vision. Painter, actor, scenarist, playwright, director, affichiste, cartoonist, illustrator… he did it all, and he did it all well. I’m happy to say that his legacy seems safe, if his posthumous presence online and in galleries and minds is any indication. And I’ve rarely had so much trouble paring down my selections, so prolific and versatile and hard-hitting was he. Dig in!

This is a typical, if striking example of the sort of work Topor was producing in the early 1960s (largely for Hara-Kiri — some three hundred drawings in a five-year span), and one wasn’t sure if his draughtsmanship could keep pace with his ideas.

I like to call this one ‘La ruelle armée’.

A bit of Photomaton–fumetti from Mr. Topor, circa the 1960s. To the right: nothing. To the left: nothing. Behind me: nothing. Before me: a moron!

Topor recycled the punch-in-the-kisser motif several times; it was first used for a Hara-Kiri promo poster in 1961.

A pair of excerpts from 1974’s **L’Épikon**. I love the concept: Topor graphically (and fancifully) elaborated upon some antique pornographic photos. « *In Warsaw, a housekeeper, by piety sucked the church candles. By dint of polishing the tallow, she skinned her lips and blushed like a virgin.* »

« *A Las Vegas whore, who resided in a palace, resorted to a trick to tame phalluses: she illuminated her snatch.* » Here’s more from L’Épikon.

Another bit of recycling: first created (I think!) for **Revue Mépris n° 1** (1973, Éditions Kesselring), Topor donated this powerful piece to Amnesty International for its worthy promotional work, such as this 1977 print ad. « *Is Freedom of Opinion Lethal?* ».

This sardonic piece appeared in the collection **L’amour à voix haute** (“Love Out Loud”); the English version was entitled *Je t’aime: A Pillow Talk*, and used it as its cover.

**Les nouvelles en trois lignes I** (The News in Three Lines) – 1975. Comics!

**Le saut périlleux** (the somersault) – 1980.

« *Leaving pain behind, according to Topor.* » (1982)

I’m happy to say that, with the years, his work just kept evolving and, in some ways, improving. This poster was created to promote the 1984 edition of a drawing festival held every other year.

Well, even if you weren’t familiar with Mr. Topor’s œuvre per se, you must have seen its echoes across all media in the work of (just off the top of my head!) Bill Plympton, Brad Holland, Peter Kuper, Bernard Kliban, Jean-Claude Suares… and countless others.

-RG

Tentacle Tuesday: Lazing on a Sunny Afternoon

December 7, 2021December 7, 2021redscraperLeave a comment

Today’s lovely crop comes to us courtesy of co-admin RG, who located these in various cartoon anthologies and scanned them. Lucky me!

A sly cartoon by the prolific Robert Day (1900-1985), a frequent contributor to The New Yorker. That octopus will have a hefty supper!

Dan DeCarlo’s pulchritudinous beauties visit the aquarium. Don’t forget to take a gander at RG’s Dan DeCarlo at Humorama (1956-63) post! Also, ‘jelly-fish’?! I am appalled. This cartoon had two captions, both equally lame – for example, ‘That reminds me, Jack is calling for me tonight…’ I don’t think DeCarlo was too interested in fleshing out the background, either.

Another aquarium vignette (this time without shapely damsels, but with a turtle or two… or three..) by Clyde Lamb (1913-1966).

False eyelashes pay dividends in this cartoon by Frank Modell (1917-2016). He has contributed more than 1,400 cartoons to The New Yorker – « *customarily, he said, “of angry men and sexy women and dogs”*».

~ ds

Some of Life’s Darkest Moments

November 12, 2021November 13, 2021gasp653 Comments

« This kind of accuracy, continued long enough, can ruin a man who is constructed as I am. I want to be pretty. I want to eliminate facts and fill up the gap with charm. » — Samuel Clemens, writing to a friend of a pen sketch sent to him by young admirer H.T. Webster

I had originally set out to write (and I may yet) of pioneering newspaper cartoonist (and honorary Southpaw*) Harold Tucker “Webby” Webster‘s most famous feature, The Timid Soul (starring Caspar Milquetoast, his contribution to the English language), but I noticed that Atlas Obscura had beaten me to the punch, and quite honourably at that.

Thankfully, it’s fair to say that Webster (1885-1952) had plenty more arrows in his quiver. According to a 1945 Time Magazine profile of the artist (who was even featured on the cover!):

« H. T. Webster has learned to slice and serve his generous chunks of U.S. life methodically. Caspar (The Timid Soul) appears Sundays and Mondays. The pitilessly fanatic and bad-mannered bridge players run Fridays. Boyhood’s lovingly elaborated triumphs (The Thrill That Comes Once in a Lifetime) and defeats (Life’s Darkest Moment) appear on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Thursdays bring How to Torture Your Husband (or Wife). On Wednesdays, in The Unseen Audience**, he pokes a sharp-pointed stick at radio—which of all mixed blessings most needs satirizing, and gets it least. Webster, in fact, is possibly radio’s most effective critic. »

Honestly, they’d each be rewarding choices, but I’ve opted, on this occasion, to draw from the cool, sombre well of Life’s Darkest Moment.

Up here in Canada, we recently had a bit of a furore over a sanctimonious (yet deceitful) fusspot spearheading the destruction of a bunch of graphic novels. Oh, and speaking of Robert Louis Stevenson, tomorrow’s his birthday, number one hundred and seventy one!

Then as now, one can generally rely on the news to be dire.

Another entry in our collection of Legendary Cartoonists With a Great Tousled Head o’ Hair.

And just so you don’t conclude that Webster’s work was all about, and *just* about ‘*poking gentle fun at life’s little foibles*‘, here’s what has to be the darkest, most brutally scathing political cartoon*** I’ve ever seen come out of the mainstream US press (circa 1946!). Incidentally, Webster was a Republican. The original art of this masterpiece resides in the permanent collection of The Library of Congress, right where it belongs.

-RG

*“For many years no one but his close friends knew of an acute arthritis which in 1927 cost him the use of his right hand. In three months he trained himself not only to write, but to draw, left-handed.” — Philo Calhoun in Biographical Sketch, The Best of H.T. Webster (1953, Simon and Schuster).

**In 1948, The Unseen Audience won him a Peabody Award for distinguished service to radio!

***He “… returned to Chicago, where he spent three years drawing front-page political cartoons for the Chicago Inter-Ocean, prompting one politician to introduce a bill in the state legislature forbidding unflattering cartoons.” (it didn’t pass.)

Tentacle Tuesday: Return to Bizarro World!

October 26, 2021redscraper1 Comment

Today’s entry is fun and light-hearted, but as this is the last week before Hallowe’en, let’s open on something with a bit more decorum!

Once upon a time, Vincent Price accorded his (paid) stamp of approval to Creamettes, a brand of elbow macaroni. You can read all about that in Vincent Price’s Supper Casserole! on the Dinosaur Dracula blog (where there are plenty of other things, too). I far prefer the version below. Who was this delightful parody created by? Is it something that would be served at The Monster Club with a nice glass of ruby red what-is-this-liquid-anyway? So many questions!

*No actual octopuses were eaten in the making of this post

And now, back to our regularly scheduled pogrom… I mean programme: Bizarro! Visit Tentacle Tuesday: Let’s Get Bizarro and Tentacle Tuesday: That Bizarro Look in Your Eye if you’ve missed previous instalments.

~ ds

Hallowe’en Countdown V, Day 3

October 3, 2021February 12, 2023gasp651 Comment

« Changing from the ghosts of faith to the spectres of reason is just changing cells. » — Fernando Pessoa

Today, let’s transport ourselves to the foggy, boggy British Isles, where every crumbling castle holds its lot of revenants and spectres within its mouldering walls.

The great cartoonist, tinkerer and beloved eccentric Frederick Rowland Emett (1906 – 1990) was evidently quite at ease within this spooky world, as you shall see. He first came to prominence as a prolific Punch cartoonist, beginning in the late 30s. In the 1950s, though at the height of his powers, he found himself struggling with waning eyesight (an exacting style was his!), so he brilliantly shifted his creative focus to building what he had hitherto been drawing. You may have encountered some of these creations in the 1968 film Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (Emett and Roald Dahl… fancy that!).

Scores of his cherished kinetic sculptures — trains (“Far Tottering and Oyster Creek Branch Railway“), flying machines (“Featherstone-Kite Openwork Basketweave Mark Two Gentleman’s Flying Machine“), mechanical computers (“The Forget-Me-Not Computer“), musical hydraulic clocks (“Aqua Horological Tintinnabulator“), musical instruments and nonpareil assemblages… are scattered far and wide across the world’s museums, many of these works restored and in fine functioning order. For instance, Toronto’s Ontario Science Centre owns ten or so (see them in action here!), and the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum possesses a choice few.

Obviously, there is much to discuss about this astonishing creative soul (watch him at work!). In the spirit of manageable narrow focus, I’ve kept it to three of his spookiest Punch cartoons from the late 40s-early 50s. Just consider it an amuse-gueule, an opening salvo. We shall return with a more panoramic view, you just wait.

« *But Sir Bedivere* always walks the battlements at this hour. Can’t think what’s keeping him. »

« *Some say it’s haunted by the First Earl AND the Ninth Earl… I wonder how they’d get on together… ?* »

« *Go on! You ask Him!… Ask him if he’s on essential business* ». This magnificent scratchboard creation was completed in 1947.

In a similar mood, here’s an excerpt or, as the Brits would say, an extract, from **Far Twittering or The Annals of a Branch Line, being Some Interesting and Unusual Aspects of the Far Twittering and Oysterperch Railway Presented by Emett** (1949, Faber and Faber, London). The caption tells us: « *Locomotive No. 3 (Hector) at Mrs. Bristow’s Folly, now used as a water-tower.* »

« *I TOLD you never to take the 11:50 round by the Witch Hollow loop… !* »

A portrait of the artist, circa the mid-1950’s. Oh, he’s a wily one, all right.

« It is a well known fact that all inventors get their first ideas on the back of an envelope. I take slight exception to this, I use the front so that I can include the stamp and then the design is already half done. » — Rowland Emett

-RG

Hallowe’en Countdown V, Day 1

October 1, 2021gasp652 Comments

« Dennis the Menace was probably the most realistic comic book ever done. No space aliens ever invaded! » — Gilbert Hernandez

Is it already October? So it is. Well, here we go again with our annual Hallowe’en Countdown. We’ll kick this edition off by featuring that pint-sized bundle of toxic toddler masculinity, Dennis the Menace (I can’t help but think that his French name, Denis la Malice, is a far more accurate description of his sociopathic essence).

Here at WOT?, we’re both (amble over to ds’ earlier DTM spotlight) huge fans of Hank Ketcham’s cartooning finesse… I mean, these are beautiful! But… drawing skill aside, the stuff is hard to take is large doses. To quote one frazzled babysitter to Dennis’ parents: « how can you stand it? »

And Dennis is still around, seemingly unchanged…

Dennis’ first Hallowe’en, from Oct. 31, 1951, the strip’s inaugural year.

Just put yourself in Dennis’ parents’ shoes, and you get a better sense of the sheer magnitude of his malevolence. His poor folks don’t seem to have done anything to deserve being forever trapped in this relentless cycle of humiliation and injury. October 31, 1952.

The old lady didn’t think it was so silly. October 31, 1953.

This is **Dennis the Menace Bonus Magazine Series no. 155** (July, 1976, Fawcett).

Back in the day, you could *be* Dennis (more or less) for trick or treating, thanks to that fondly-remembered purveyor of cut-rate (but cool in their way) costumes, Ben Cooper, Inc.

A fuller look at the Dennis ensemble. And do check out this bit of Ben Cooper history!

-RG

Niso Ramponi: He’s not a Pervert, He’s… Kremos!

September 3, 2021September 3, 2021gasp651 Comment

« By 1948, the Italians had begun to pull themselves together, demonstrating once more their astonishing ability to cope with disaster, which is so perfectly balanced by their absolute inability to deal with success. » — Gore Vidal

The accomplished Italian graphic designer, animator and illustrator Niso Ramponi (1924-2002), is perhaps most renowned (it’s all relative, but not to actual merit!) under his pinup cartooning nom de plume of “Kremos”.

Ramponi champion Joseph V. Procopio sheds some light on the genesis of this alias:

« Ramponi’s pen name, Kremos, was born of necessity: Like many of his generation, after the war Ramponi was conscripted into the Italian army for a year of service. Loath to abandon his budding cartooning and illustration career but barred by military regulations from working as a freelancer, Ramponi conspired with a friend named Sandro Cremo, who acted as his intermediary to secure and deliver freelance art assignments on Ramponi’s behalf. To maintain the ruse, Ramponi signed his work Kremos, a pseudonym that stuck even after his discharge from military duty. »

My own initial exposure to Ramponi/Kremos’ work came through Lawrence Lariar and Ben Roth’s splendid, but woefully short-lived Best Cartoons From Abroad collections (1955-60), which contrasted favourably against the genteel contemporary American humour anthologies. Fortuitously, Signor Procopio eventually assembled, circa 2015, twin collections of Ramponi’s finest cartoon work, ‘Kremos: The Lost Art of Niso Ramponi‘, volumes 1 (b&w) and 2 (colour). Grab ’em while you can!

Here’s a mixed even dozen of my favourite Kremos cartoons. Buon appetito!

From **Travasissimo no. 41** (Jan. 1951).

Worry not: she’s not bad, she’s just drawn that way. From **Travasissimo no. 50** (Oct. 1951). I see much kinship between Ramponi and Jack Cole‘s pinup styles, don’t you?

Ah, yes, when one ate fruit and vegetables only when they were in season. I miss that; it seems more honest, less decadent and wasteful. From **Travasissimo no. 57** (May 1952). For the strangest reason, this doesn’t leave me craving peaches, but rather… aubergine.

From **Travasissimo no. 76** (Dec. 1953). I do believe that this is an encore appearance from the previous cartoon’s exam taker.

From **Travasissimo no. 85** (Sept. 1954); translated version from ***Best Cartoons From Abroad 1955***, my inaugural, unforgettable brush with the Kremos aesthetic.

From **Travasissimo no. 88** (Dec. 1954). The caption was completely rewritten for the cartoon’s English-language appearance in ***Best Cartoons From Abroad 1955***, edited by Lawrence Lariar and Ben Roth. The original gag went: Husband: “*You know, dear… I took some swimming lessons from the lifeguard because I wanted to surprise you…*“
Wife: “*Now*?”
Husband: “*No, in April!*“

From **Il Travaso** –“The overflow” for you English speakers (May 26, 1958).

From **Il Travaso**, circa 1958; reprinted in ***Best Cartoons From Abroad*** 3, edited by Lariar and Roth.

From **Il Travaso**, circa 1958; also reprinted in ***Best Cartoons From Abroad*** 3.

From **Il Travaso**, circa 1958; again reprinted from ***Best Cartoons From Abroad*** 3. Those American editors loved their Kremos. I love the word “pappagallo” which, in Italian slang, means a wolf… *autrement dit*, a randy *ragazzo*.

From **Il Travaso**, circa 1959; reprinted in ***Best Cartoons From Abroad 1959***, edited by Messrs. Lariar and Roth.

-RG

Jean Gourmelin: Tenants of the Void

August 13, 2021March 23, 2026gasp651 Comment

« It’s true that Gourmelin’s world has everything to unsettle the general public: it contains as much horror as black humour, as much morbidness as sombre poetry. But to classify his drawings in a well-defined genre is a hopeless enterprise, and we well know how our times need clear, idiotic and exact labels. This relegates Gourmelin to some fuzzy area, a sort of no man’s land where one can find anything — even fanatics — but never a thing to eat or to drink. » — from the artist’s presentation in the anthology Les chefs-d’œuvre du dessin d’humour* (1965, Les éditions Planète; ).

While France’s Jean Gourmelin (1920-2011) started out as a painter and practiced — and often mastered — scores of artistic techniques and media (etching, technical drawing, sculpture, stained glass, wallpaper design, and so on…), he’s more commonly remembered for his stark black and white, wordless pen and ink drawings. Even as they remain open to interpretation, their power and eloquence are undeniable.

While his earliest drawings appeared in print sporadically from 1951, his crucial turning point was his 1961 encounter with Belgian writer-historian Jacques Sternberg, who encouraged Gourmelin to emphasise, in his work, idea over form. This canny shift in approach soon landed his newly-galvanised work in the pages of Planète, crucially, but also those, just as notable, of Bizarre, Midi-minuit Fantastique, Pariscope, Hara-Kiri… with occasional forays into other media, for instance some striking production design for a 1967 TV adaptation of Gustav Meyrink‘s classic novel, The Golem. Here’s an unexpected (and fine!) article in English about Gourmelin’s work on the film.

Here, then, are some (dark) highlights of Gourmelin’s work in the 1960s.

I’m reminded here of the immortal cover photo of a certain album by Bill Evans and Jim Hall.

This piece appeared in **Les chefs-d’œuvre de l’épouvante** (1965, Les éditions Planète), accompanying Claude Farrère‘s classic 1928 short-short story, ***Le Train perdu***, which you can read here (in the original French). Gourmelin also provided the anthology’s arresting cover and frontispiece artwork. Maybe next time…

-RG

*It says something (flattering, if you ask me) about the Gallic character that Gourmelin’s work would fall under the category of “humorous”. We’re a looong way from, say… Dave Barry.

Tentacle Tuesday Masters: the Formidable Gahan Wilson

June 29, 2021June 30, 2021redscraperLeave a comment

« I will eliminate this ignominious blot on the city’s reputation. I will correct this annoying oversight. And so Ostap undertook the actions dictated to him by his reason, his sound instinct, and the situation at hand. » – the magnificent Ostap Bender, from 12 Chairs by Ilf & Petrov

With considerable dismay, I recently realized that Gahan Wilson had yet to be featured as a Tentacle Master, despite having thoroughly deserved this title not only with the sheer number of tentacles in his cartoons, but their impeccable quality as well. Co-admin RG wrote a lovely piece on this prolific artist in Gahan Paints What He Sees!, and we’ve included his work in a multitude of posts, but he certainly deserves this official TT accolade.

Without further ado… and with many thanks to co-admin RG, who figured out where these were published and on what date, as well as doing a lot of scanning and editing while I was grappling with myriad technical issues at work (instead of grappling with tentacles, he-he).

« *Looks like this fellow you came across could be bigger than we thought*! » (Playboy, Aug. 2007).

« *Occupant, apartment 5C; Congratulations — you may have already won the all-electric Colonial split-level house of your dreams…* » (Playboy, July 1974).

« *Well, sir — it looks like things are getting pretty serious for Peter and Pauline.* » (Playboy, July 1992).

« *I think something’s wrong with the baby, dear!* » (Playboy, May 1997).

« *Harry, I really think you ought to go to the doctor.* » (Playboy, Feb. 1968).

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is gahanaug73a.jpg — From Playboy, Aug. 1973.

« *Er, driver, just let me off right here, please!* » (Playboy, Nov. 1981).

A friend sent recently sent me an issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction from November 1974 that has that characteristic, lovely aroma of aged paper. Lo and behold, some Gahan Wilson tentacles lurked within! I came for Mushroom World by Stephen Tall, and stayed for the charming doodles introducing different sections of the magazine… Here are the three together, once again scanned & processed by RG:

🐙 ds

Jean-Jacques Sempé’s Caustic Heyday

May 14, 2021August 20, 2022gasp659 Comments

« When I grow up I would like to be an artist in France. » — Keith Haring

The other day, while weighing the idea of producing this post, I asked my wife: “Is Sempé too obvious a choice?”, to which she wisely replied: “To whom?”. To add another few grammes of perspective, I’m reminded of how, a decade-or-so ago, I was helping out a friend by manning his business phones while he took a vacation. One caller identified herself as Mme Sempé. I immediately asked whether she was related to the cartoonist. She was (they’re second cousins), but rather shockingly, this was the first time anyone had ever brought up the subject with her. Okay, so not so obvious after all.

If you only know Jean-Jacques Sempé‘s work through his cover illustrations for The New Yorker, well, you’ve missed his finest. Sempé (born August 17, 1932, in Bordeaux, France; died August 11, 2022, just a few days short of his 90th birthday) was recruited in the late 70s, in the twilight of editor William Shawn‘s tenure (1952-87) with the magazine. To be quite frank, Sempé’s New Yorker work is his weakest, comprising almost invariably mawkish scenes of the dying arts: little girls practicing scales at grand pianos, ballet rehearsals and grand operas. And the work has only grown more anachronistic and sentimental with time; I’d say he’s the least compelling cover artist currently working for the magazine, with the exception of art director Françoise Mouly‘s little chouchou, the stiff and bland Adrian Tomine, he of the lifeless line and emetic palette. Ahem.

But there was a time…

In 1968, a decade-and-a-half into Sempé’s career, ever-lucid Belgian writer and historian Jacques Sternberg perceptively summed up the artist’s appeal:

« But Sempé’s humour has earned the favour of a very wide audience. Without a doubt because he’s able to observe with a playful — but rarely sadistic — eye the drawbacks and peculiarities of our daily lives, and that his reader feels — mistakenly — reassured by this vision.

Sempé has, in fact, a way with an impressive setting, with meticulous detail, of the mise en scène that sugarcoats the bitter pill and of the lyrical flight that dampens the ferocity of the content. The miracle occurs as if by magic: Sempé, who is rather scathing, seduces rather than worries his readers. »