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Page 5 of 7
gg: So you moved from a pen to a
brush.
kw: [Apologetic] Yeah, from a rapidograph to a
brush, so it wasn't as if I had any
sort of technique with variation
other than pretty much trying to
emulate the brush strokes by drawing
them in.
gg: Why did you do that?
kw: 'Cause I looked at the work
that I liked, and I saw things that
could be done that I wasn't able to
do. And it's that thing, you want to
be a real cartoonist. You want to be
for real. And it wasn't until I started
making, doing wordless stuff that I
felt like I was really doing anything
worthwhile, that I really want to
take this seriously. Prior to then, it
was a hobby in every sense, because
I wasn't really pouring anything
meaningful in it.
And when I started making these
different kind of stories, elements
would surface in them that (I'm
trying to say this without sounding
like a pretentious wad) little mirrors,
you know, of my own life and
my own experience would pop out
from these stories and it began an
entirely different thing. My work
was telling me more than I was telling
it. I don't know if that makes
any sense.
 From Pinokio When I was making all these wise-ass things, you're pouring all this
you into it to show everybody
how clever you are, how funny you
are, look at me, look at this silly
or gross or outlandish thing. And
when I started telling a certain kind
of story, things came back at me,
where it's me, there's no way to say
this [laughs] without sounding really
hippy-dippy, but I really started
to learn things about myself and
comics for me became more of a
conversation with myself that other
people enjoyed eavesdropping
on than me talking to other people.
Does that make any sense at all?
gg: Yeah. I'd love to have you elaborate
on that. Did that process of
discovery start with your wordless
comics?
kw: Maybe it was letting my own
guard down with myself, because
in the process of trying to be a
funny and cool and... and maybe
that's what it is, maybe it's just telling
a story and drawing upon real
life experiences and real feelings
and putting that into it rather than
showing everybody what kind of
person you are, convincing them
what kind of person you are. You
just say, "Fuck it," and you tell a
story with that sort of freedom and,
obviously not careless, but carefree
sort of way, not concerning yourself
with how this is coming across,
what it says about you.
gg: Another interesting thing is that
in your piece in MOME #3, what I
noticed was that you recycled part of
a rant from No-Fie, except that you
put it in an entirely different context,
which was not the context of
you screaming at the reader, but in
the exchange between the two characters.
And so that opened it up from
a rant to a social exchange. Of sorts.
 From Pinokio kw: What part in particular? Oh,
probably about the "More Punk
Rock Than Thou?"
gg: Yeah, yeah, which echoed one of
your rants in No-Fie #5 or #6.
kw: Right, right. And that would
make total sense.
gg: Of course, instead of just ranting,
he was ranting to the girl, so
there was an exchange.
kw: Right, right. Well, it makes
sense I would do that too, you
know, when you're younger, you
kind of define yourself by your
tastes. You like this kind of music,
you need to throw that out there
so everybody knows what kind of
badass Rolling Stones fan you are
or whatever, like that somehow
makes you something. And as we
get older, well, we don't need to put
bumper stickers on our cars any
more, we don't need to wear that
shirt with that brand on it because
we don't really care what you think
of us any more. I think in art, you
can't do anything until you get to
that point. I don't think you'll get
anywhere if you worry about other
people. You might be good at entertainment,
and I'm not trying to
cut that down in any way, but I'm
not really looking at entertaining
people as the primary purpose of
me doing this. Mostly it's totally
selfish and self-serving.
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