The Jizz

I’m not going to bore you with more boasting about how I can draw better than any contemporary “web comic” artist out there. I’m going to bore you with an explanation why.

I’ve got The Jizz.

You could set out right now to be the greatest cartoonist in the world, spend billions of dollars, and you’d still never top me. You don’t have The Jizz. I do.

No rapper today can touch Rakim Allah, Kurtis Blow, or MC Ren. No one develops an ability to rap for survival anymore; it’s all about copying the last moneymaker. The original rappers had The Jizz because they were forging new artistic territory as part of staying alive. They imparted lessons they’d learned personally, with sincerity. They didn’t have to play tough, it was part of who they were.

I’m not a woman, so I can only assume that there’s a form of The Jizz for them too- I’ve seen it in plenty of female artists. It’s not squack or semen, it’s the creative impulse born out of survival instinct. In both grade school and jail, I drew pictures to demonstrate my value and avoid beatings. I developed a sense of humor for the same reason. Women will never, ever understand that they cannot be worthless, by nature. We men are fodder. We die for you. We cannot create life within our bodies, or nourish that life. This won’t change. Ever. Okay? Even women who can’t have children are valuable in society, simply by dint of being female. This is the way it is.

I couldn’t fight worth a shit in elementary school. I could draw, so I did that instead. I did it so much I forsook my studies. More than once, a girl saw me drawing and said, “you’re good.” I knew, instinctively, that drawing was more important, and I was right; it’s what I do for a living now.

If I hadn’t had The Jizz back then, I wouldn’t have cared about developing artistic skill. I maybe would have gotten to a level commensurate with your average latter-day Marvel penciller. My only inspiration would be a paycheck. All the idiosyncratic tics and quirks that make my work my own; they wouldn’t exist. They’d have no reason to.

Your favorite musicians most likely had The Jizz. They may change instruments, but they started young on something. They came to learn the rules from somebody, then instinctively decided which ones to follow, bend or break. You can start acting at a later age, but you’ll never truly catch up with the lifelong performers; the DeNiros, the Gielguds and Oliviers. They didn’t “catch the bug”, it was already crawling in their veins.

Mozart began composing at five years old. 

He was already able on piano and violin, though he must have been playing on tiny instruments. How could the fingers of a toddler depress heavy ivory keys, or tight strings?

Anyway, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart had The Definitive Jizz. From early childhood, he witnessed Human Awe firsthand, as a result of his natural talents. No amount of money can buy that. Some people know they can never possess it, and it drives them to madness.

I see the art of Bernie Wrightson, and all I can think is how can I be like him? Not to have what Mr. Wrightson has, but to celebrate his work’s impact on me, through my own. I want people who see my art to feel like I did when I saw Bernie’s. Not by giving them a crummy imitation, but by carefully studying his linework and technique, and applying it to what I do.

I love Basil Wolverton’s art so much, I wanted to pass on the intense frisson I experienced when I first saw the cover of MAD #11. I redrew this classic from scratch for BIUL #2, doing my best to work in Wolverton’s distinctive idiom. My intention was to be accused of photocopying the original and making minor changes. Sorry, Charlie; I hand-stippled every dot. I would never disrespect Wolverton by defacing his work, and certainly not on the fucking cover. 

In my twenties, I read a book by Dave Sim about technique. He was the one who taught me that if you’re fucking up, you’re working too fast. I have to rush on occasion, and it makes my art look cheap. That BIUL cover up there? That took weeks. Some artists can take months, YEARS! You think money carries them through that duration? Money always runs out. The Jizz never does, until you die.

Dave Stevens is a perfect example; he’s the inker with godlike skill who created The Rocketeer. His uncanny renderings of pin-up queen Bettie Page played a large part in her reemergence in the public eye. He worked with the legendary Wm. Stout, doing storyboards for a little film called Raiders of the Lost Ark. He influenced the master Adam Hughes. He didn’t just draw models, he banged and married them. In the foreword to The Rocketeer, there’s a tale of being utterly dumbfounded by Stevens’ casual knowledge of a long-forgotten swing artist… written by Harlan Ellison. Stevens died in 2008 of hairy-cell leukemia, which absolutely sucks, but still sounds kind of badass.

Jim Blanchard is to rendering what Mike Patton is to vocals. He’s as good as Drew Friedman, the absolute gold standard of facial rendering. Not only do they have The Jizz, but they have a clear idea of what they want to accomplish, and how best to apply their specific skills. That’s the trifecta. See?

1. The Jizz (impulse-driven creative fuel)
2. The Goal
3. The Act

Dude, I just gave you that for free. It’s priceless. Man, woman, young, old, in-between, whatever; if you do that, you will succeed. I don’t have to guarantee it; I live it. It’s already happening. I call it The Ozymandias Effect, sometimes. No one can stop something that’s already happened. No one can beat you when you’re already at the finish line.

Just remember, money will never take you there. Only one thing can.

The Jizz.