How to Draw Intermission: November 2024

How do we continue making art and clinging to hope despite being bombarded by an onslaught of grief?

Howdy, friend.

My older sister died unexpectedly this fall. I’m still processing what happened and learning to understand how labyrinthine my grief is. On top of this, the US election this week was catastrophic in so many ways for so many people. This, a new, different kind of grief.

I’m tired. The world is a hard place and it’s even harder when you think you’re making social progress toward a unified goal—a society that gives space to anyone and everyone, that centers compassion—and then knocks you back down.

I drew this self-portrait the day after the election. It perfectly captured my mood then, and still does today as I write this.

I’ve been revisiting Marjane Satrapi’s seminal Persepolis to help cope, and its throughline of hope—despite—feels especially prescient.

Despite. I love this word. A pause in action. A consideration of how to push forward or fight back. A revolution in seven letters.

Everything I make is rooted in connections. Hell, this newsletter was born as a way for me to connect with folks about the process of artistic creation and the importance of comics and comicsmaking. Right now, more than ever, connection is important. So, we take a knee. A breather. A rest. We remind ourselves what is important, don’t forget who we are or what we strive for, and pick ourselves up and continue the fight.

I’m taking November off to think, to consider, to recalibrate. There is much I don’t know, including what the immediate future holds, but here’s one thing I know for sure: Hope is important. Art is important. Necessary, even. We will endure and continue fighting for a world that reflects love and kindness and care and unity.

Despite.

See you in December, and stay strong, friend.