Funny and Mean

I have always had a hard time making fun of people, by that I mean drawing them funny, making them look ridiculous. What does that say about me? Am I a coward or just a nice guy? I don't have the same hesitation in my stories; meanness is the soul of satire. And in my drawings I have less of a problem making fun of men, but I am always kinder to women. I feel bad when I satirize them. I guess this follows the first rule of humor: that it's always funnier to make fun of yourself or your own kind. I did this illustration for Bon Appetit a few years ago. The article was about wine; I drink wine, and the art is fairly merciless. And amusing.

Small Banker

I drew this little man last year, and I thought to myself "He looks like he might be a banker." Expressionless, unmuscular, dressed in the proper uniform for denying credit to someone. A cold eye. Granted there are bankers out there who are wonderful human beings. Not him. This guy seemed to distill the essence of bankerness. I did a set of variations on him, in miniature, in a variety of poses and changes of costume, but always the same blank expression, like the face on an envelope containing a bill. I sent them to the magazine I usually send these small serial spots to, but answer came there none. So I sent them to Andrew at the Believer, who has always believed in me. And that's where they will appear next month. Watch for them.