What a good day.
I think my Cartoonist-in-Residence stint at the Charles M. Schulz Museum and Research Center went quite well. After a quick lunch at The Warm Puppy Cafe in Mr. Schulz's ice arena, I crossed the street and set up in the museum's classroom. Today was a corporate "family day," which made the place relatively crowded. I brought some pages of original art to display, some slides to show, some books to sell. I also brought pens and a few blank sheets of paper, but the flow of visitors was steady enough that I never actually had time to sit down and draw. Instead, I spent two hours talking to some very nice folks.
My wife Karen, who's indispensible support at things like this, had a previous commitment and couldn't make it until near the end. Luckily our friend Marion showed up, stole my camera and took some nice photos, including those immediately below. Meanwhile, the museum's Education Director Jessica worked determinedly to get my PowerPoint presentation looping on the room's monitor long after I'd given up, and at last succeeded.
My new pal writer/filmmaker/teacher/cartoonist Jason Whiton came, as did several young people including a talented comic-creating brother-sister team, a sixth-grader who drew a dog and cow for me, and a high school student who interviewed me for a Career Day-type project ("How much money do you make?" "None of your business.").
|Being interviewed about my semi-career while sitting behind my drawing board covered in blank pages staring up at me accusingly. The usual.|
|Yeah, I brought my spaceship. People love the spacehip.|
|Talking with Jason and Jeannie.|
To be clear: after Mr. Schulz died, his studio's drawing table, furnishings, and many of his books and other possessions were installed at the museum, where every visitor can see them set up just as they were. But Mr. Schulz also kept a drawing table, furnishings, art supplies and such at home. It's those that Jeannie has moved into the corner of the studio, making a workspace that's both an artificial re-creation and totally authentic. Because the studio is still part of a working office not open to the public, not many people get to see that.
And I sat in the chair. At the board. The beautiful dark brown board in whose surface we saw dimly wrought letters and pictures from Mr. Schulz's hand. I'm not being metaphorical: we could literally make out actual words and shapes impressed into the wood. The Schulz Museum needs to have an archeologist do a rubbing of that thing.
|At the Board of Inspiration and Intimidation.|
|Familiar windows and curtains.|
|The Plastic Bin of Sacred Relics.|