The man sitting across from me at this long white laptop-use table in the lobby of the North Bethesda Marriott Hotel has just read very carefully through the Sunday comics in USA Today, closed the paper, and announced to me and everyone else (the table is full) what I’ve put in this post’s headline. A pit of despair.
UD is currently having one of those experiences you can easily have if you live in a place like Washington DC. She left her house this Sunday afternoon because Mr UD’s holding a seminar there for a few hours; she went to the place she always goes to, this pleasant hotel with a Starbucks and free internet and comfortable seating.
What she turns out to have walked into is this year’s Small Press Expo, “North America’s premiere independent cartooning and comic arts festival. SPX brings together more than 4,000 cartoonists and comic arts enthusiasts every fall in Bethesda, Maryland.”
What this means on the ground is lots of people (average age twenty) in black tops and jeans and tattoos and heavy black glasses (it’s got me thinking of Portlandia) walking back and forth in front of me in the lobby. Some of them are sitting with me at this long white laptop table. Their sketchbooks (comic book art boards, I should say) are out and they’re all drawing cartoon panels (“Yeah that’s gonna need a darker line. That’s not gonna read.”) They often consult their smart phones (for image ideas?) and they chat among themselves. The vibe is nerdy, friendly, in-group. They talk about how bad most of the comics out there are.
“The British Dennis the Menace is terrible.”
“It’s disgusting. The kid’s just farting all the time.”
“I hate that kid. He’s the worst.”
“Remember Space Cases?”
“I remember that show.”
“There were only a few seasons.”
“When I was a kid I had a crush on Catalina.”
“I had a crush on the guy with the long hair. What was his name. Rolf.”
They discuss the most disgusting thing they’ve ever eaten.
Winner: Dog treats.
I see a lot of Rug Rats t-shirts, but also NASA and Goth and Anime and Heavy Metal. People have dyed their hair way black.
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So I’ll describe a guy who just came by and who is, I now see after spending a couple of hours here, the Ur-Cartooning and Comic Arts guy.
He is 19, 20, years old. Rotund. Pasty. Under his black baseball hat he has dyed his long hair purple and yellow. His backpack is ratty. He lumbers rather than walks, his eyes (behind big black-framed glasses) firmly down, fixed on his electronic devices. He wears jeans and a black t-shirt. He expresses to UD the following thing: I spend most of my time inside watching tv.
Here’s another guy. He wears raggedy bright green resort clothes (his fly is open) and carries a fabric bag that reads Schulz Library, Cartoon Studies.
A very excited much older guy (but dressed like everyone else) shows a friend a new comic book. “I love it – sorta like Dave Cooperish.” He wears a purple TROUBLE TOWN button.
Every single one of the skinny women all in black and all sort of pulled in on themselves who pass in front of me emanates a strong creative genius vibe.
A woman in a long shimmering red skirt wears a black top that on the front says SAME SAME and on the back BUT DIFFERENT. On her head sits a patterned red mob cap that looks homemade.