Cute Cats

I drew the comic on the way home, and then used words cut out of an essay (written as an exercise by/for someone learning English) I found on the Upfield train about the changing role of women.

The day after I went on the gay radio I was bombarded with messages about women's changing role; two stories on Yahoo which on the face of it seem so different. 1) Old, skinny tart banned from wearing sexy clothes in local pub, and 2) Mad religious man keeps daughter in cupboard for 10 years. Except the basic message is the same; you shame us with your cunty self.

Reading two books; The Ballad of Dorothy Wordsworth, about the poet's ever supportive spinster sister. The phrase 'she lacked irony and self awareness' had me closing the book and giving up on her. Then the first chapter of Surface Detail by Iain M Banks, where an interesting, active female character is raped, has her throat slit and is eviscerated in the first chapter; gave up on that one too.

Finally I got to What It Is by Lynda Barry and the knot started to unravel. Diffuse, elusive, circular rather than linear; concerned with the journey, not so much with the finished object, not 'important'; playful. Women's work.

No-one can resist a comic about a cute cat, can they?

Whilst the issue of comics and why I should continue to try to make them is still spinning in my head, I made this mish mash of a three panel strip cartoon. It is a version of the cute cat logo for the Festival International de la Bande Dessinée d'Angoulême which was on last weekend; but in a dress, so it is both a self portrait and an image of the fickle, fleeting spirit of Comix herself. From the distance of my computer the festival looks like everything one could wish for; a comic Utopia.

Women and Comics

A while ago I was on Joy FM talking nonsense in a much nicer studio than 3CR, with actual windows, individual headphone volume controls and a cough button if you can believe it. I was asked a simple question, but I don't think I answered it very well.
(if you want to hear it http://www.cpod.org.au/page.php?id=215&page_style=joy.css&no_brand=1)

Sonja asked me how women were supported in comics in Australia.

I think I gave a fairly inadequate answer, basically complaining about how major publishers had failed to support me in the style to which I would like to become accustomed, but the question is not as simple as it sounds. I could have said, there is no real comic publishing machinery that we can fit into, or a literary patronage system that women practitioners are excluded from. Women comic artists don't compete with male comic artists for prizes, the attention of a range of comic publishers and fight exclusion on the basis of sex. Like in most democracies women's oppression and exclusion is more subtle than a sign saying 'no girls allowed'.

Silly-Looking Birds

Happy New 2012

Sundew

This picture is entered into the Linden Post Card Show. The opening day is Saturday the 2nd of February, which is by tradition, unspeakably hot, or raining, but usually part of the St. Kilda Festival.

Some houses...

... which are also in the exhibition.

By The Way

My exhibition of drawings at Brunswick Bound Bookshop; The Mysterious All-Alloneo Archipelago is now up on the walls. The afternoon tea party is on this Saturday and you are all welcome to come. Most of the islands have appeared on this blog, but there are a few new ones.
Brunswick Bound is at 361 Sydney Road Brunswick, and tea will be served at 2 pm on
Saturday 29th of October.

Westgarth

After Murrumbeena I travelled into the city boxed in by the type of over-educated idiots who think dressing in a rented suit and standing in a field watching horses run about is an acceptable way to spend an afternoon.
Coming back to Clifton Hill in late afternoon light I passed West Richmond, Colingwood, Victoria Park all looking splendid, but I was on the express train to Hurstbridge. At Westgarth station I snapped 2 girls going over the dilapidated footbridge without them noticing; I'd rather not take pictures of people, especially those I don't know, but this was a happy accident ... and don't they look happy?
The new railbridge over Merri Creek looks a bit pop art; is it meant to be retro 1960's?

Murrumbeena

As unlikely a place as Murrumbeena provided me with a perfectly serviceable cup of teabag for $2.50. An impossibly twee name and sign and logo, but a proper bakery rather than a franchise, with such a high counter I couldn't see over it; meant for working men in search of meat pies and pasties and nescafe in big, manly mugs.
Then a pee in a vintage 1960's toilet block.

Caulfield again.

The number 3a tram deposited me in Caulfield. I was brought so low I went in to a Gloria Jean's.

Balaclava

By the time I left Brighton I was starting to be in need of a cup of tea. There are two things which make travel bearable; the availability of toilets and of tea. Other things like a certain amount of civility, privacy and respect for each other by one's fellow passengers, seem to be optional. So I got off at Balaclava in an effort to find a decent cafe serving more black teas than Earl Grey or English Breakfast. Or failing that a tram to parts West and another train station. No cafes with more than a passing acquaintance with tea, but plenty of attitude and snobbery.

Hampton & Brighton Beach

As befits a posh suburb like Hampton, the train station was both clean and tagging free, and hardly patronized.
Brighton Beach had more people, as well as a working toilet. I've always liked BB station; as an adolescent I spent many winter days wandering on the beach, disconsolately.

Cheltenham

Cheltenham Station is next to a beautiful cemetery. I wandered about in it for some time.
I had an idea I could catch a bus across to the Dandenong line, but I could only get as far as Southland, and in despair, caught the first bus out of there to Hampton.

Mordialloc

Mordialloc has picturesque decrepitude and an oddly shaped railway water tower of historical significance.

Carrum

From Caulfield, to Malvern, then onwards to Carrum, three stops before Frankston. Carrum station looks like a municipal toilet block built in the 1930's.

Caulfield

I was at Caulfield before 10 am, and Saturday seemed to be turning into a day of warm, filthy wind. The Caulfield races seem to be on because various types of losers and Hooray Henrys wander through the station while I take photos.