Category: Blog

Activism, Brain Food

One Thing Several Ways

“Some people think I do ‘a lot of different things’ but I think that I am doing only one thing several different ways: I support folks, in groups, workshops, and individually, as they figure out what is theirs to do, and what is not, and how we can aim our labors and our gifts toward negotiating the peripeteia, the turning point that is upon us. We are living through a transformative and dangerous era. I see my work as trying to marshal courage, compassion and collective resources to alleviate inevitable suffering – and in my most idealistic moments, I can imagine we are seeding a new world.” — Martha Crawford

The first line of this paragraph really hit me in the solar plexus when I read it. I still don’t feel the urge to post things on Bluesky, but when I do stick my head in there every so often after following a link, I tend to see posts by Kate Schapira. Her work with the Climate Anxiety Counseling Booth has been inspiring to me since I interviewed her way back in 2016 for my comic on sail cargo. She mentioned having learned some valuable skills in one of Martha’s cohorts, and after clicking through to Martha’s website I can see that they’re clearly singing from the same hymnal. It’s nice when people I admire are connected to other people who clearly get it.

Looking forward to digging through her offerings in the weeks to come (including this workshop called GROUP GROUP!!).

Delights, Experiments, Listening

Echolocation

I can’t recall where I first intersected with Alex Tomlinson’s work, but I’m utterly enchanted with Hear to There, a website of his that uses community-sourced sound bites to plot paths around the globe in sound. The recordings are generally ambient, rather than the narrated Rambles I record with vague regularity, but they evoke such a sense of place it still feels like you’re in dialogue with a character.

There are so many exquisite tiny projects like this that enjoy fireworks of activity when they launch and then end up drifting through the web in quieter ways. (I’m thinking of Meatspace, among others.) Part of me feels sad that the hype machine burns out so quickly, other parts are happy that these small-scale experiments go to ground—just waiting for the next unwary traveler to stumble into their midst.

(I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that Alex is also a designer of bird-themed items. His illustration stuff is absolutely gorgeous, and I was lucky enough to receive one of his Vexillowlogy patches in the mail this year. He’s got a shop, if you’re a bird nerd like me and flush with Christmas cash.)

Activism, Ojai

Sketchnotes: For the People

An illustrated page of portraits and quotes from For The People's informational webinar on library structures.

Notes from a recent informational webinar run by For The People, a fantastic team aiming to get more people actively involved in defending and championing libraries. This was well-timed, since I wanted to check out volunteer opportunities with our local Friends of the Ojai Library organization, but Katie, Mariame, Tara, and their colleagues inspired me to dig deeper. This call was aimed at enrolling people in their incubator project, which offers weekly Zoom calls to help elected or hopeful board members navigate group dynamics, stand up for free speech, and strategize together. It’s an incredibly smart and well-run operation.

How do library boards work? In 2023-2024, For The People: A Leftist Library Project undertook a massive data survey of all 9,000+ public library systems in the United States, and collected - with the help of hundreds of volunteers - information on the governance of more than 7,000 systems, information not available anywhere else. FTP’s research showed that the majority of library board seats in the US - 83% - are appointed positions. Those appointments are usually made by other local elected officials (city councils, county boards of supervisors, etc). The remaining 15% of seats are directly elected by voters.

True to their word, I found the documentation online for the Ventura County Library board to be pretty opaque, but with a little digging I was able to locate the one board member who lives in Ojai. I reached out and she kindly agreed to give an informational interview on Friday, so we’ll be chatting about how things get done in this corner of the world. I’m very curious to see what she has to say about the process.

If you’re a library enthusiast, I can’t recommend For The People enough. Sign up for their newsletter, check out their fantastic resources page (especially the Public Libraries 101 zine), and see if you can get more involved in your own local library community.

Blog, Seacritters

Laid Low

I’m sick in bed the week of Thanksgiving, which is mostly bothering me because I was looking forward to using the holiday lull to finally get some work done.

This sounds bad, I know. But my family doesn’t even do Thanksgiving! My whole life I’ve made do with (and enjoyed, to be fair) turning up at other people’s celebrations. This year I’m starving for a secret pocket of time instead; one of those interstitial spaces that nurture creativity. I’ve been thinking of the days I’d bike to my studio in Portland having forgotten, in my freelancer’s fog, that it was a public holiday. The roads were empty. The traffic was quiet. No one was asking me to work, so I could actually work. And my work, of course, sits in the strange dip between play and purpose.

I wrote a little on Patreon this week about taking time off of penciling the graphic novel to design a new character. It has felt intolerable do this kind of thing when the spreadsheet looms and I’m constantly berating myself for how long this book has been taking and I want to see progress and I want to know how long it will take and the work of designing something new is anything but predictable.

And yet it IS predictable! I went from tentative sketches to a properly captured character in about three days! That’s barely any time at all!

Anyway, top of mind these days: how making a career of a creative practice does, eventually, impose a sense of constant dis-ease. The catch-22 of needing a sense of spaciousness in order to indulge the kind of experimentation and noodling that allows one to actually, y’know, create, but existing in a world full of deadlines and invoices that require foreknowledge of exactly how long something will take. There’s nothing new about this gripe, as evidenced by the very thoughtful and validating comments I got from other comics peers on that Patreon post, but I’m feeling it keenly right now.

At least I’m getting to draw a lot of outrageous lizards.

A dense sketchbook page full of goofy lizards.
Blog, Brain Food

A String of Letters

My friend Christopher made himself an acronym to live by (PAASH: P.E., Art, Admin, Study, Help) and I liked the idea so much I had to make my own. The general idea, as far as he described it, was to capture the things he does in any given day or week that make him feel like a whole person. If something feels off, he can take a look at the acronym and see what’s missing.

After a lot of messy note taking and backronymification I landed on CLEAR: Create, Learn, Embody, Act Up, Rest.

Create: make something with your hands, has to be tangible, no computer shit

Learn: engage the conspiracy string brain, read a book with a pencil in hand, take a class, listen to a podcast

Embody: move in any capacity, whether concerted exercise or rolling around on the floor like a pill bug

Act Up: engage in some form of activism, ideally connected to community, that pushes you outside your comfort zone

Rest: the hard one, zero input time, staring into space, lying on the ground, generally after lunch

They’re not so different, really, but I think it does add something to have to come up with your own. I’d be very curious to see other people’s down the line. Maybe we all, deep down, want the same five things out of a day. (There’s a thought: should it be limited to five letters? That’s just how these two examples shook out, but I see no reason to limit the parameters.)

Delights, Ojai

Encounter

I don’t know how long she’s been there when I spot her.

A pointed muzzle. Massive, soft ears swiveling in the dusk. Slender legs perched on the rock wall. She’s close to the orchard, but leaving the shelter of the trees. The comet of her dark-tipped tail follows her to the lawn.

We’re close, maybe twenty feet from each other. The dogs don’t like it one bit, growling and barking in a defensive fury, but she saunters forward, unconcerned. I’m frozen, attuned, waiting for something. She holds steady until I stand and shatter her confidence against the edge of my movement.

In seconds both the coyote, and the brief unselfing she brings, are gone.

Blog, Brain Food

Noodling in the Dark

There’s something undeniably different about finding a community via blogs.

Social media spoiled us for feeling like we were all in the same giant room—liking, replying, reblogging, DMing and so on—but when I go to quote a friend or draw attention to a project on my own site, I find myself applying a higher standard of stewardship. How do I want to introduce other people to this person? What work of theirs really sings to me? I always try to do my due diligence with tags and links and properly formatted images, because we’re making our own internet out here and we owe it to each other to get it right.

I have a richer picture of the group of people in my feed reader than I did of the people I regularly interacted with on social media platforms like Instagram. There are also fewer people to keep up with overall. I’m more likely to unfollow feeds whose updates I don’t leap at the chance to consume. I’m more aware of nuanced opinions, annual projects, and the inner thoughts of relative strangers.

Because blogs are much quieter than social media, there’s also the ability to switch off that awareness that Someone Is Always Watching. I’m far more likely to write or make things just to please myself on my site. I’m also always genuinely delighted and startled when someone tells me they’ve read a post.

I don’t want to lose that feeling of noodling around in the dark.