Happy Friday to everyone! We wrapped up our 15th comic con at Brookfield Wisconsin last week–we had a blast and we we hope you all did too. I wrote a short piece about our previous Quadcon in Dubuque, Iowa, but I hadn’t had time to edit and post it. I think it captures a lot of the feeling I get from doing these comic cons and events, the tension between doing something new and therefore intimidating, and the joy of bringing your art into people’s hands. It was also an amazing opportunity to think through the geography and history that makes so many of these small Midwest towns special. Anyhow, enjoy my ruminations and don’t forget to Do Art!
Thank you all for another amazing weekend! We just got back from our 14th comic con at Five Flags Center in Dubuque Iowa. I was terribly impressed by the city–the beautiful turn-of-the-century architecture of a prosperous river port on the Mississippi back when the river was one of America’s most important commercial arteries.
Driving there from Rochelle, IL, you are startled by the sudden change of geography, as the seemingly endless flatlands that stretch across the midwest south of Rockford IL suddenly become curving roads around steep hills. This is the Midwest’s Driftless Area– a stretch of land including Illinois, Wisconsin, and Iowa that was not covered with ice during the last Ice Ages. Where the surrounding area was flattened by huge ice sheets from modern-day Canada, this ice did not cover the Driftless area, and its ancient streams and waterways carved deep gullies and ravines into rock older than the dinosaurs.
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What this meant, in the present day, is that the drive to Dubuque was quite different from the drive to Davenport, Iowa, or Omaha, Nebraska. The terrain was hillier, and when the roads crested we saw massive vistas overlooking plains that stretched into the horizon. The trip was less homogenous than a drive south to Peoria or north to Milwaukee–where highway towns with tall signs for gas and fast food places fly by at 70 miles an hour or more.
We arrived the day before the comic con and began by looking for a campsite. The first campground was jam packed with Iowa State fans, listening to the football game blaring on the speakers. Third Eye Blind was playing at the casino, and we regretted not knowing sooner. The second site had space for us, however. We set up our tents and explored a bit before going back out to get something to eat. We turned in early, after starting a small campfire and talking about our plans for the website.
The next day I woke up, rather sore after trying out a new air mattress that didn’t seem to have blown up all the way. We packed up quickly and made our way to the con. The convention, as it turned out, was located in the center of downtown Dubuque, within view of the town clock. At the loading dock we saw the stand of the Galena Ghostbusters–custom Ghosbusters cars, people with custom proton packs doing raffles and pictures for charity. One member was dressed up in Slimer costume–yet another dressed as a hybrid of a Ghostbuster and Silent Bob (from the Kevin Smith Extended Universe), shoulder-length hair and a cigarette hanging from his lip.
We found our spot along the bleachers and set up. The centerpiece of our booth was the drawing tables, along one side, along with two huge banners. These displayed our drawings, and drawings people had made of us since we’d started doing workshops earlier in the year. A cat Jerry licked his paw, while a Chet Among Us peered out from his cyclops visor.
Soon the con was humming with people. I started out rather slowly, but a breakfast sandwich from Caroline’s–egg and bacon panini, with this amazing jam that lent the bacon some sweetness–revived me. A man walked by with his two daughters. His daughters coaxed him into drawing and he mentioned that he’d been to art school. He drew me as a zombie, with an eye coming out of its socket, and had his daughter color me “with gore, but not too much rot.” He mentioned that he was a sculptor, working mostly with wood or metal, and made his lines holding pencil with fingers on the top and thumb on the bottom–the way you’re taught in art school–rather than with the hand sideways, pencil between fingers and thumb, the way most people write.
The day went by fairly quickly. Another vendor walked by and drew me hanging out the side of a car. He lived out by Wisconsin, had been a painter but hadn’t drawn anything in years. Jerry played with his kids as they drew, throwing them a whiteboard eraser. They’d toss it back and he’d start juggling, repeating the trick until they all got it right.
The con ended at 4. We picked up the drawings of Chet and Jerry–over a hundred of them–and put them away to be looked over, and maybe added to the next crop of banners. We packed up our stuff and headed out the loading door, toward the clock tower. John, who organized the event, helped some cars get through the loading dock into the convention space.
Jerry would later say than the man running the Smash Brothers tournament thanked him, and told him that what we’re doing is important. For humanity. That all sounds rather grandiose, for a booth that sells comics and invites people to draw wacky pictures, but the community created at these cons cannot be understated. It’s a long day for the vendors, to be sure, but again and again we’ve seen individuals, friends, and families brought together by a love of art and a passion for fandom. Adding our unique blend of art and creativity to these events has been an absolute pleasure. Can’t wait for the next one.
