エピソード

  • The Art of Drawing Worse with Tom Toro

    The Art of Drawing Worse with Tom Toro
    2025/10/08
    Thank you Kevin KAL Kallaugher, asher, Margreet de Heer, Dan Collins, Pat Coakley, and many others for tuning into my live video with Tom Toro (and his cat, Pumpkin!) Tom is a New Yorker cartoonist, author, and the rare person who can make me feel simultaneously inspired and completely inadequate about my cartooning skills.His new book, And to Think We Started as a Book Club, just dropped, and it’s already Andy Borowitz’s October Book Club pick. The title itself is a gag from one of his cartoons—bank robbers mid-heist, one holding a crowbar (originally a shotgun, but weapons get flagged by algorithms, apparently). It’s the kind of unwieldy-but-funny title that works because the joke sustains it.The Art of Drawing WorseOne of the best moments came when Tom shared Bob Mankoff’s advice to Paul Noth: “Draw worse.”Not as an insult, but as a direction. Noth’s early work was so detailed—cross-hatching, filigree, the whole nine—that Mankoff told him the jokes were strong enough to carry simpler art. The delivery needed to be cleaner. Tom admitted he sometimes overdoes drawings when he’s insecure about a joke, like he’s compensating. I felt seen. Very seen.“The best thing about your work is the worst thing about your work,” Mankoff once told me. “You draw too well sometimes.” I’m still not sure if it was a compliment. Probably not.Fact-Checking V*ginas & Left-Handed CatchersThe New Yorker fact-checks cartoons. Tom once got a note asking if he could make a drawing “less vaginal.” (Three lion manes forming an unfortunate composition.) “I had a baseball cartoon flagged because I’d drawn a left-handed catcher—apparently, there hasn’t been one in the majors since 1972. They let me keep it, but wanted me to know.”These notes are rare, which makes them oddly precious. “It’s nice to know there are eyes on it,” Tom said. Most of the time, cartooning is just the Roman Coliseum—thumbs up, thumbs down, see you in twelve years.AI Can’t Make Good MistakesWe talked about AI creeping into cartoon spaces, and Tom’s theory hit hard: AI can’t make good mistakes. It can mimic, reproduce, even generate six-fingered hands by accident—but it can’t make the artful mistakes that lead you somewhere unexpected. The kind that gives a drawing its heartbeat.“Maybe it’s incumbent upon artists to keep pushing ourselves to realms of discomfort,” he said, “where we just make more beautiful mistakes.”That’s the hope. That’s the work.Tom’s on tour all month—Powell’s in Portland this Friday, then Connecticut, New York, Boston. If you’re near any of those spots, go hear him talk and get your book signed. Support cartoon collections. Raise all boats.‘til next timeYour pal,Referenced in the conversation:* Tom Toro’s website* And to Think We Started as a Book Club (Tom Toro)* The Borowitz Report (Andy Borowitz)* Well, This Is Me (Asher Perlman)* The Joy of Snacking (Hillary Fitzgerald Campbell)* Understanding Comics (Scott McCloud)* Matt Inman / The Oatmeal on AI* Civics 101 Podcast* Powell’s Books, Portland* St. Nell’s Writer’s Residency (Emily Flake) This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.newyorkcartoons.com/subscribe
    続きを読む 一部表示
    58 分
  • Asher Perlman & The Art of Eugene

    Asher Perlman & The Art of Eugene
    2025/10/06
    I went into this episode of DMA expecting the usual blend of cartooning shop talk and digital doodling. What I got was a deep dive into creative authenticity, delivered by someone who's figured out that being yourself is both the hardest and most obvious solution to every artistic problem.The Eugene EmpireAsher's Hi It's Me Again had just dropped, and our conversation naturally gravitated towards his most famous creation: Eugene. For the uninitiated, Eugene is that wide-eyed, innocent character who looks like he just materialised in the world ten minutes ago and is still figuring out the rules (and nervously figuring out how to ask the barista for the bathroom code).An unexpected moment came when Asher produced an actual cardboard cutout of Eugene—because of course he has one within arm’s reach. But the real insight was his theory about Eugene's existence: having come up through Chicago improv and sketch, Asher needed a creative collaborator for the inherently solo act of cartooning. Eugene became that collaborator, a subconscious way of recreating the writer's room dynamic on paper.When a live stream viewer requested drawings of "Eugene and his dog, who looks like Eugene," the chat collectively decided the dog should also be named Eugene. Asher immediately declared this "canon." Watching creative mythology form in real time was unexpectedly moving.The Mankoff Hair DoctrineI recounted Bob Mankoff's bizarre but apt advice about finding your artistic voice. Mankoff stumped with an analogy about hair styling: "You decide to wear your hair that way... why is your drawing not as distinct as your hairstyle?"At the time, I admitted, I was too dense to understand. But eventually it sank in: stop drawing what you think a New Yorker cartoon should look like, and start drawing like myself. Asher also sold his first cartoon a month after Ellis gave him similar advice: "Don’t draw a ‘New Yorker Cartoon’, draw an Asher Perlman cartoon that could be in the New Yorker."This feels like the kind of obvious wisdom that's only obvious after you've bashed your head against the wall for years trying to be someone else.The Comedy Economics of HackBoth Asher and I shared war stories about the delicate economy of comedy crowds. His Second City experience taught him that audiences of comedy people versus regular people laugh at completely different things. The example that stuck: during the Cubs' historically bad years, any joke that simply acknowledged their terribleness would reliably kill with regular audiences, while comedy vets groaned at the predictability.I confessed to deploying hack MC material at tourist-heavy shows, earning eye-rolls from grizzled road comics. The unspoken rules of what's permissible comedy form our intricate ecosystem—one where Ellis serves as our "encyclopedia of cartoons," helping determine what's been done before.Digital vs. Analogue RomanticismBoth of us admitted to fetishising paper and pen while acknowledging the seductive convenience of digital tools. Asher confessed to tapping his page to try to undo lines when working on paper. I noted how the digital safety net makes me more confident but less skilled—a creative paradox worth pondering.By some miracle, our technical discussion revealed practical wisdom: 80-pound paper works well with iPad light boxes, draw faces first to avoid redoing entire backgrounds, and always have a brutal filing system that you'll inevitably hate.From Hackery to SubstackeryAsher had just joined Substack a month ago, and his description of the platform was refreshingly honest: "It feels like what I wanted Instagram to be, but it never was." My strategy mirrored my cartooning breakthrough—stop trying to copy what successful newsletters do, write for your own people, and celebrate the unsubscribes.The platform discussion highlighted a broader shift away from algorithmic manipulation towards intentional consumption. As Asher put it: "I prefer things that exist outside of the algorithm now because I don't like being catered to my worst instincts."The Bell House LaunchWe wrapped with excitement about Asher's book launch at Bell House, featuring Gary Gulman, temporary Eugene tattoos, and what sounds like half the New Yorker cartooning community.Related Reading:Asher's journey from frustrated imitator to distinctive voice serves as both a cautionary tale and an inspiration—a reminder that the path to originality runs directly through the abject horror of just being yourself.Thanks to everyone who tuned in to the live stream!‘til next timeYour pal,Next week: Tuesday at 12pm, I'm chasing down Kevin “KAL” Kallagher to talk to him about his 50+ years as a working cartoonist for the Economist and —until recently— The Baltimore Sun. Add it to your calendar now! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.newyorkcartoons.com/subscribe
    続きを読む 一部表示
    57 分
  • Liza Donnelly on Breaking Barriers, Drawing Aliens, and Why Everything is Political (Including Pigs)

    Liza Donnelly on Breaking Barriers, Drawing Aliens, and Why Everything is Political (Including Pigs)
    2025/09/27
    Thank you Stan!, E. Sjule, Margreet de Heer, Loitt, Michael Maslin's Ink Spill, and the nearly 500 others for tuning into my live video with Liza Donnelly yesterday! Join me for my next live video in the app next Thursday, Sept 4th at 12pm EST when I speak with political cartoonist Kevin KAL Kallaugher. You can follow his new Substack here:Nearly 500 people tuned in yesterday for Drawing Me Anything #25, and honestly, I'm not sure if they came for the cartoons or just to watch me fumble with my drawing setup like a broken octopus. Either way, I had Liza Donnelly on—the first person I ever subscribed to on Substack, and a cartoonist who's been breaking barriers since before breaking barriers was trendy.From Watergate Kid to New Yorker PioneerLiza grew up in Washington D.C. during Watergate, which explains a lot about her political sensibilities. She wanted to be Herblock—the political cartoonist's political cartoonist—but felt like she couldn't find her voice in that arena."I looked at the political cartoonists that I admired, Gary Trudeau and Herblock. I just didn't feel like I could fit in. I didn't think that I had a strong enough opinion about things, which was not true, but I couldn't find my opinions, I guess. I was afraid to share them."So she turned to the New Yorker, which she initially thought was "stodgy" until she realised it was actually full of "subtle but subversive" cartoons. This led to her becoming one of the first women to regularly publish cartoons in the magazine since after the period in the 1920s. She came up alongside Roz Chast and a few others.The old system was beautifully archaic: Tuesdays for the seasoned cartoonists, Wednesdays for the "young upstarts" like Liza, Roz, Jack Ziegler, Mick Stevens, Bob Mankoff, and Sam Gross. After submissions, they'd go to lunch at places like The Quiet Man (an Irish bar) or The Century, sometimes hit a Mets game, and occasionally go down to Tin Pan Alley to shoot pool."Before we went to lunch, we would go to the other magazines, take your little envelopes of your rejects from the New Yorker, and you'd go to other places," she explained. The rejection tour included National Lampoon (where she sold her first cartoon), Good Housekeeping, Cosmopolitan—places that actually paid cartoonists, unlike today's one-shop reality.The Live Drawing RevolutionLiza's been doing live drawing on streaming since way before it was cool. She started during the 2016 State of the Union, using an iPad with Paper 53 and one of those chunky styluses that Apple doesn't make anymore (she had to stockpile them like they were cartoon gold)."I drew these quick drawings of what I was watching and put them on Twitter immediately because the app connects to Twitter. And nothing was like that yet on that platform at all, really. So it took off, and that's when my live drawing career sort of happened."This led to everything from drawing the Oscars red carpet to being the first cartoonist credentialed for that gig, to courthouse sketching during Trump trials (where electronics weren't allowed, forcing her back to paper and pen like some kind of analogue warrior).The CBS Morning Show Years and the ImplosionFor about four years, Liza worked for CBS This Morning, live drawing guests and hosts, connecting their social media with the actual broadcast. They sent her to the White House, the DNC, debates—until CBS imploded with the Les Moonves and Charlie Rose scandals."CBS imploded, you know, Les Moonves and Charlie Rose and all that sort of—CBS imploded. And I was no longer," she said, with the casual tone of someone who's watched media empires crumble before breakfast."Women Laughing" DocumentaryThe big news is Liza's documentary "Women Laughing," which is finished and premiering in New York this fall. The New Yorker will publish it on their site, and Katie Couric (who once commissioned me to draw a deliberately bad caricature of Larry David for Sardi's) is executive producer.The documentary features drawing sessions with contemporary women cartoonists at the Society of Illustrators, because, as Liza noted, "cartoonists are relaxed when they're drawing." It's a 35-minute short that traces the arc from the magazine's early women cartoonists through today, when about half the contributors identify as female or non-binary."We talked and drew at the same time because it's something that I've done with my children. And I know it's a way people are relaxed, at least cartoonists are relaxed when they're drawing," she explained.The Rejection Game and ReinventionWe talked about The New Yorker's brutal rejection rate—drawing eight to ten ideas a week, maybe selling one if you're lucky. It's almost masochistic, but as Liza pointed out, "without that rejection, the ability to tolerate rejection, you're not going to really last long in cartooning.""You and I, we have to really start reinventing ourselves because there's no... Magazines are dying, are almost dead, and there are no ...
    続きを読む 一部表示
    1 時間
  • Adventure Sketching, Pickleball, & Bus Rides with Samantha Dion Baker

    Adventure Sketching, Pickleball, & Bus Rides with Samantha Dion Baker
    2025/07/01
    I spent an hour yesterday drawing with Samantha Dion Baker —artist, author, and one the best Substackers on drawing—and came away feeling like I'd just had the best kind of therapy session. Which, as it turns out, is exactly what Sam's work is all about.Sam joined me from her studio in Dumbo, and what started as a casual chat about pickleball evolved into a masterclass on using art as a tool for presence, sense memory, and genuine human connection. It’s crazy I get to speak to people like this every week (it’s even crazier that they speak back.)The Accidental ArtistSam's artistic journey is one of those creative pivots that make you believe in second acts. She spent years as a graphic designer (same!), creating pristine designs—all clean typography and careful spacing. Then life happened: kids arrived, screens became suffocating, and she found herself reaching for a sketchbook just to remember things."I was drawing things so well or comfortable drawing things," she told me, flipping through pages of her early work. "I was just doodling like letters and arranging things. It was very designy."But here's the thing about doodling when you're not trying to be an artist: it becomes honest. Sam started documenting daily moments—not because she planned to publish them, but because drawing made her more present. The practice was meditative, almost inadvertent therapy.When she published her first collection, Draw Your Day, Amazon classified it in the art therapy section. "I didn't really think about it when I was writing it," she said, "but I was like, oh, yeah. That makes sense."The Art of Paying AttentionWhat I love about Sam's approach is how unforced it feels. She's not precious about her sketchbooks—they're repositories for whatever catches her attention, regardless of artistic merit. We talked about the tyranny of the "perfect sketchbook," those Instagram accounts full of museum-quality watercolours masquerading as casual sketches."I'm not happy with 90% of my pages”, she admitted. But that's the point. The sketchbook isn't a performance; it's a practice.Her upcoming book, Draw Your Adventures (out July 15th—pre-order it now!), explores this idea of documentation versus decoration. It's not about capturing the Sistine Chapel; it's about noticing the "Call Your Mum" mural near your son's new apartment, or the woman across from you on the bus."Sometimes it's completely unrelated," Sam explained, "but it will still bring you back if you're present and you're taking it in."The Technical Bits (For the Process Junkies)Mid-conversation, we naturally gravitated toward tools—because what are two artists without strong opinions about pencils? Sam's a devotee of Blackwing pencils and has worked with them for years (she even illustrated their iconic poster of all the limited editions). But her real secret weapon is Derwent Inktense paints."I always describe them as like a cross between acrylic wash because they dry flat and watercolour," she said, layering colours on a portrait of her friend's dog, Wayne. "They're more forgiving than watercolour." (Watch the video above to see her drawing Wayne!)I confessed my own tool obsession whilst wielding a Wren fountain pen I'd discovered the night before at a comedy show (thanks Lauren Layne and Anthony LeDonne). We compared notes on everything from mechanical pencils (neither of us likes them) to date stamps (both obsessed) to that magical Faber-Castell 14B pencil that somehow exists despite breaking all the rules of graphite grading.(This is probably where I should mention that Sam's giving away 50 copies of her book at her launch party on July 15th in Dumbo. RSVP required—don't just show up like you're crashing a wedding.)The Interrupted ArtistOne of the most honest parts of our conversation was when Sam talked about working around constant interruptions. Her artistic practice developed not in some pristine studio, but in the margins of motherhood—quick sketches between playground emergencies, continuous line drawings because she might have to stop mid-pencil stroke."I was constantly being interrupted," she said. "So my process, I've learned to work in stages."This resonated deeply. How I often wait for the "perfect" time to create—the uninterrupted afternoon, the ideal lighting, the moment when inspiration strikes like lightning? Sam's work is proof that creativity thrives on constraint, that the most meaningful art often happens in the spaces between other obligations.Adventure as a State of MindAs we wrapped up (Wayne the Cairn Terrier now immortalised in both our sketchbooks), Sam explained the philosophy behind her new book. Adventure isn't necessarily about passport stamps or mountain peaks—it's about approaching the world with the curiosity of someone who might want to draw it.When you're carrying a sketchbook, you notice differently. You see the baroque curve of a fire escape, the precise way someone holds their coffee, the particular ...
    続きを読む 一部表示
    1 時間 2 分
  • Ann Telnaes: Talking Musk VS Trump & Freedom of Expression!

    Ann Telnaes: Talking Musk VS Trump & Freedom of Expression!
    2025/06/06
    Two Megalomaniacs Walk Into a Democracy: Ann Telnaes on Cartoons, Chaos, and Why We Can't Look AwayEarlier today, I got to speak with Ann Telnaes, 2025 Pulitzer Prize winner and one of the most fearless voices in political cartooning. (Also, one of my favourite people in the world.) We discussed the urgent question: “How do you document democracy's slow-motion car crash when two unhinged maniacs are fighting over the steering wheel?”New York Cartoons is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Ann doesn't mince words. She never has. When I described Trump and Musk as "a petulant toddler and a drug-addled lunatic lobbing bombs," she laughed and countered with her more accurate assessment: "Male adolescents who have too many toys."We're not dealing with political disagreements here. We're watching what happens when unlimited power meets unlimited ego, and spoiler alert: it's not that funny.Cartoonists: The Canaries in Democracy's Coal MineAnn has a theory that cartoonists are "the canary in the coal mine of democracies," and honestly, after our conversation, I'm starting to think we might already have one lung full of coal dust. The documentary she's featured in, Democracy Under Siege, was made before everything currently happening actually started happening, yet it predicted pretty much everything we're watching unfold.As Ann put it, there was urgency during Trump's first presidency, "but nobody noticed because he was so entertaining for the media to cover, because it got eyeballs." The cartoonists, however, "did a fairly good job showing who Trump was in the first one." We had a running start this time, but somehow we're still acting surprised that the leopard is eating faces.When Free Speech Gets ComplicatedOur conversation took a serious turn when we talked about Charlie Hebdo. Ann and I were both in the States when the 2015 murders happened, and like me, she felt that gut punch of "sadness and fear and fury." But here's where it gets interesting – and uncomfortable."At first, everybody was all... ‘Je Suis Charlie!’, Free speech! —and everybody was together," Ann recalled. "Then, all of a sudden, at least in this country, there started to be a divide." She strained friendships over defending those cartoons. So did I. "I discovered that I definitely am a free speech absolutist because I don't think you go down that path where you start talking about what you can and cannot draw or say."Her line in the sand is crystal clear: "You're just not allowed to kill people because you disagree with them." The moment someone justifies murder with "Yeah, but the cartoons…" they've lost the argument immediately.RELATED:The Kitchen Counter RevolutionHere's something that blew my mind: Ann still works at her kitchen counter. This absolute legend, who's been skewering politicians for decades, is creating her masterpieces at the same place most of us eat cereal.Her style evolved out of pure practicality. When she started, she tried to copy the McNally crosshatching approach that everyone was doing. "I realised I couldn't do those cartoons very fast. And in business, you have to work fast." So she just started doing them in her own style fast, using the brush and ink techniques from her animation background.Sometimes the best artistic breakthroughs come from just figuring out how to pay the bills.The Art of Evolving EvilOne thing that fascinates me about Ann's work is how her caricatures evolve. She doesn't just create one version of Dick Cheney and repeat it forever. "For me, a caricature is more about who a person is inside rather than how they look outside," she explained. "I wouldn't say that my Cheney looks like Cheney, but it certainly feels like Cheney."This is particularly evident in her Musk cartoons. As I told her, "Your Musk evolved as he devolved." If you did a retrospective of her Musk drawings, it would show this terrifying de-evolution from celebrated businessman to... whatever the hell this is. Her recent cartoon of Musk strung out in an alley with needles around him perfectly captured not just his downfall, but the Greek tragedy of watching it happen in real time on our collective screens.The Pat Oliphant RevelationAnn shared an incredible story about how Pat Oliphant transformed his art. In the '60s, his style was much more cartoon-y. But when he went to speak at the Corcoran School of Art, he noticed they were teaching life drawing and decided to sit in. That's when his incredible draftsmanship really developed.Ann's advice? "If you want to learn to draw, go take life drawing classes. I still take them." She goes to open sessions to draw the figure because "the best way to really understand foundation, to understand shapes and make your cartoon solid" is to master the fundamentals.It's a reminder that even legends are still learning.The Panic That Powers CreationWhat drove Ann to political cartooning? Two ...
    続きを読む 一部表示
    36 分
  • Comedy Over Tragedy: Austin Kleon's Masterclass On Creative Survival

    Comedy Over Tragedy: Austin Kleon's Masterclass On Creative Survival
    2025/06/04
    Thank you The Bob, Brendan Leonard, Tammy Evans, Bill Cusano, Mariana Marques, and the 500 others who tuned into my live video with Austin Kleon yesterday! New York Cartoons is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Join me for the next one on Friday at 11am EDT — I’ll be talking & drawing with special guest, Two-Time Pulitzer Prize-winning Cartoonist, Ann Telnaes!About The Guest:Austin is the New York Times bestselling author of a trilogy of illustrated books about creativity in the digital age: Steal Like An Artist, Show Your Work!, and Keep Going. His books have sold nearly two million copies. Two million. That's even more than the 27 of mine that sold this month! They've been translated into over 30 languages (including Australian.) New York Magazine called his work "brilliant." The Atlantic called him "one of the most interesting people on the Internet," and The New Yorker said his poems "resurrect the newspaper when everybody else is declaring it dead."He also does talks for organizations such as Pixar, Google, Netflix, SXSW, TEDx, Dropbox, Adobe, and The Economist. This is the kind of client list that makes freelancers weep into their instant noodles.With that intro out of the way, here is the recap of our conversation. At the bottom, I’ve also included a full list of books recommended or discussed during our one-hour talk.Comedy Over Tragedy: What Austin Kleon Taught Me About Creative SurvivalYesterday, I had the pleasure of chatting with the brilliant mind behind Steal Like an Artist, Show Your Work, and my personal favorite, Keep Going. What started as a conversation about creative routines turned into a masterclass on attention management, the importance of play, and why treating your art like a comedy might be the secret to actually surviving as a creative person.The Magic of Knowing What You LikeAustin started by dropping one of those deceptively simple truths: "Knowing what you like is this kind of magic tonic for your attention." It sounds almost embarrassingly basic, but as he pointed out, "we live in this world where everyone else is trying to tell you what to like constantly."The problem? If you don't know what you actually like, "how are you going to know what you're supposed to make? Because really, what we make is more stuff like we like. We take all the things that we like and we put them together and that's our work."This hit me hard because in previous years, I've been guilty of the exact opposite: creating things that get likes rather than things I actually like. Austin's approach is refreshingly honest: "Only I actually know what I like, right? And so my reading life, for example, is so much richer when I just focus on what I really, really like to read."The Brian Eno Prescription for FocusAustin's been studying Brian Eno for over a decade, and shared Eno's current obsession with attention management. The key insight: When you truly know what you like, “you can tune in to what you're supposed to be paying attention to. It gives you focus."This connects to something profound he observed about kids: "Kids know what they like, especially know what they don't like." They're naturally discerning in a way we somehow unlearn as adults. As Austin put it, his kids were "almost like an executive... they were very, I like that. I don’t like that—and I loved it." (He has a book coming out soon called “Don’t Call It Art” expanding on the value of this insight.The Artist's Survival GuideHere's where things got real. Austin shared a quote from art coach Beth Pickens that completely reframed my thinking about creative work: "Artists are people for whom their life is less when they don't work." Not that they can't do anything else, but that "my life suffers when I'm not making stuff."The guilt around "selfish" creative time dissolves when you realize you're not just indulging yourself – you're showing up to your work, so that you can feel more alive inside, so that then you can show up for other people.The Tragedy vs. Comedy Framework That Changes EverythingThis might have been the most brilliant part of our conversation. Austin breaks down how most people think about art through the lens of tragedy: "a very special person with a gift who struggles and fights against the world... and then you know, it takes a great toll on them. So they have to shoot up heroin or whatever. And then when they get success, they get rich and they drink themselves to death."But there's another way —the comedy approach. In comedy, you have "an ordinary person, just a regular person, maybe even a lowly person... And what they do is they bumble, they fumble, they improvise... but their fatal flaw, they don't really have a fatal flaw. What they have is their wits."The beautiful thing about a comedy? "There is no success in a comedy. There's just failure after failure, basically. But what happens at the end of a comedy ...
    続きを読む 一部表示
    1 時間 3 分