Jim Woodring Quotes

When I was a kid, I used to see apparitions and have hallucinations, and my entire perception of the world was badly disoriented. And I had kind of a chaotic childhood because of that. I’ve really hung onto it, though. Because I actually like those feelings.

That Moorish architecture is all over the place, of course. It affects me everywhere I see it, as it does so many people. But Brand Library was a special place to me, and I know I’ve paid homage to it many times in my drawings.

Every time I write something down I check it to see if it has that telltale glow, the glow that tells me there’s something there. If it glows, it stays. Everything is either on or off.

It’s funny, in some of the interviews I’ve seen that were done for the film, some people say things like, ‘Oh, I was never a very big Jim Woodring fan. I’ve never thought his work was that great.’

Oh, I was never a very big Jim Woodring fan. I’ve never thought his work was that great.

I think that cartoons have a lot more power than they’re given credit for.

I used to publish these stories in 32-page comics, and I would either do short stories or break the long ones up into chunks so there would be some variety inside the comic. But since then, people have been doing more and more long, standalone works, and the term ‘graphic novel’ has sort of become the codified term now.

Alternative cartoonists have to rely on comic book stores to get their stuff in the hands of readers.

People aren’t interested in seeing themselves as they really are.

I guess if I had to put it into a single phrase, the moral of the Frank stories is that the hammer never really falls.

A tree is an incomprehensibl e mystery.

It takes more drawing to tell a story in pantomime.

I wanted to be a pariah, because all my heroes were cult artists, people who devoted their lives to poking into very narrow, very deep corners – Erik Satie, Alfred Jarry, Malcolm Lowry – people who suffered in order to express their vision of life.

People for whom art is religion can say, “What I love about art is that it points to a higher reality.” Well, fine, but the time comes when the smart thing for such a person to do is to let go of the fun of the art and get into the hard work of attaining and understanding that higher reality, unmixed with worldly games.

Leslie Stein’s comics give readers privileged access to a complete and wholly original world of gently skewed wonders.

I’ve heard that Alfred Hitchcock said that by the time he was ready to shoot a film, he didn’t even want to do it any more because he’d already had all of the fun of working it out. It’s the same thing with these Frank comics.

Like a lot of freelance cartoonists, when any opportunity like that comes along, I have a hard time saying no, whether it makes sense or not.

I have a personal definition of cartooning, which is, simply, “imaginative drawing.” Anything you’re drawing that is not in front of you but is a mental construct that you want to express in a drawing is, to me, a cartoon.

A tree is an incomprehensible mystery.

When I started formulating the first Frank comic, I knew I wanted it to be something that was beyond time and specific place. I felt that having the characters speak would tie it to 20th-century America, because that would be the idiom of the language they would use, the language I use.

Doing a story about my mundane, waking life, how much I don’t like my job, or breaking up with someone, I don’t think so. Those stories don’t interest me that much as a general thing.

Comics could use more creators with something worthwhile to say.

I’m not a freak. I’m not really crazy or anything. I don’t think I’m really abnormal. It’s just, like anybody else, I have interests I cultivate, and one of my interests is not getting too used to things. I’ve sacrificed a lot of things in my life in order to keep that sense of things being unfamiliar.

One of the best memories of my life is contemplating that first finished drawing and realizing I had cracked the code, that I could make drawings like this whenever I wanted.

Real shapes and real patterns are things you would observe in nature, like the marks on the back of a cobra’s hood or the markings on a fish or a lizard. Imaginary shapes are just that, symbols that come to a person in dreams or reveries and are charged with meaning.