January 16, 2007
DRAWN TOGETHER
(photo by Ruth Fremson for The New York Times)
In the forward of the book The Rejection Collection, editor Matthew Diffee describes the weekly lunch get togethers of regular cartoon contributors to The New Yorker:
"On Tuesday, after all the batches have been dropped off, the whole gang usually ambles off to lunch together. People always ask me what we talk about, and as much as I'd like to nurture the illusion that I'm a member of my own sort of Algonquin round table, I have to admit that we're not really that witty a group. I mean, we are, but only as much as any other group. We spend most of the time talking about what we might order, what we saw on television, what we think about the news. It's only when we start talking about work that our conversation becomes unique. Because we can have serious, lengthy, occasionally heated full-table discussions about ridiculous things that are quite important in our business, such as how to draw duck feet or whether "Scranton" is funnier than "Cleveland" and why. Do dogs have hair or fur? What's the perfect name to use in a caption? Is Buford too funny? What about Doug? Or Edwin? What's the difference in technique between drawing a mustache and drawing an eyebrow? What is that fine line in the drawing of a cartoon that either makes the gag funnier or ruins it?"
In today's New York Times, a reporter tags along with the group to see what the scene is actually like. Of course, anytime a reporter from The New York Times is present and everyone knows it, it's reasonable to think that the banter and behavior are somewhat modified.
There is more wise to the wise guy than one might imagine, and just as much wisdom behind the pen as wit: Mr. Gerberg plays the piano beautifully; Mr. Gross knows opera, can talk Mozart as if he knew the guy; Mr. Harris could navigate the Morgan Library in the dark. Nor are they frozen in the past: Mr. Kane has just as many pictures up on Flickr.com as any self-respecting high school kid.
“There are more galaxies out there than there are grains of sand on a beach,” Mr. Harris tells us one afternoon. “Can you imagine?” He pauses a beat, then adds: “You can’t. Because our brains are too small to grasp this yet.”
On the protective paper atop the restaurant’s linen tablecloth — another excellent detail suited to this particular gathering — we draw what the edge of the universe might look like. “And what’s around it?” asks Mr. Le Lievre, a dark-haired Melbourne import. “Now here’s what I imagine.”
He takes up his pen and sketches what lies beyond the galaxies. Twin lines contract off into the distance; grass sprouts raggedly on one side. “It’s surrounded by a white picket fence,” Mr. Le Lievre says. “And there’s a gate in it.” He draws that next. “And it annoys the hell out of everybody.”
Peering at the drawing upside down from across the table, Mr. Gross says: “And on the other side, there’s a gated community. It’s like Florida.”
THE REJECTION COLLECTION, Cartoons You Never Saw, and Never Will See, in The New Yorker is a hilarious book filled with pieces that cartoon editor Robert Mankoff judged too off color to be included in The New Yorker.
Tagged:Posted by Lexiphane at January 16, 2007 12:04 PM
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