I pawed through some archives and managed to fill the collage out a bit more. I’ve added years 1999, 2000, 2001, 2003 and 2004. In addition, I’ve added the year to each image to make it a bit more viewer friendly. Some of these are not “actual” self portraits…in that, they may have been done for a strip or an illustration… but the evolution still holds.
To me, these images are more telling than photos. Sure, a photo can convey some emotion, but a photo can’t tell me about line. For example: 1999. The lines used on that portrait are pretty uniform. There is some hatching in the hair and beard but for the most part the lines are tentative. There is nothing that I was sure about in drawing that. In fact, maybe by not getting into detail, I was hiding something. What that something may have been isn’t too clear.
2000 finds me confused. Am I supposed to be doing this?
2001 makes it seem as though I was happy… if only for a brief moment. I’m not absolutely certain of when in 2001 this was drawn, but it’s a same bet to assume it was before September.
Between 2005 and 2008 and possibly into 2009 I’m trying to figure out who I was not only as a person but as an artist. Am I supposed to be a cartoonist or so I want to be a “fine artist”? This was the period where I was living in a tight rope… my marriage was starting and ending, life changed for me… grad school and a new life. New life means a new face and int he process, trying to figure out what the old face was.
By 2010, with an MFA on my wall, I had myself all figured out. Sort of.
Wonder what the next 20 will look like.
I will try and fill the gaps in this collage as I find them. 1993, 1996-1998 and 2002.
there is something to be said for someone who, in a very short amount of time, can have such a profound effect on your life.
i met jeremy in 2003. he came on as my intern through a high school program. i had heard that he was diagnosed with leukemia and had bravely faced it down. when he first came to me i must’ve drove him nuts with questions. what can i say, i was curious. i had family who battled cancer— but i was too young to understand the gravity of what cancer was.
so i just bombarded jeremy with questions: what did you feel when you first found out? what clued you in to thinking something might be wrong? what does the chemo feel like going in? where do they put it? how long does it take? he was such a good sport about it…probably had a whole set of talking points ready to lay on people like me.
he came to me because he wanted to be a cartoonist. that’s all he wanted to do. write them, draw them, read them…i saw so much of myself in him— which is why we hit it off immediately. he was so funny. i loved to hear him laugh. i loved to make him laugh.
i am an only child. jeremy was like the little brother i never had. he loved the fact that i was one of the few adults that would tell him the straight truth. if his drawing sucked, i would tell him it sucked. if it was decent i would say that. i wouldn’t lie to him… if i lied to him it would mean that i didn’t care… and he knew that. and he respected me for that.
i told jeremy that his experience battling leukemia needs to be seen by other people. he was in a unique position to show how lonely and painful battling something you can’t see is. at the end of his intership he had put together the beginning of his chemo experience in the form of a comic book. it was to be the first in an ongoing series. i remember how proud he was, on that last day we were together, to hand me that finished copy of his comic. i helped him do that. made me feel good.
i bought him a small light table for a high school graduation present. and i told him to use it. my mantra to him was “contrast, contrast, contrast!” i would always bust his chops about how his hatching sucked. he would bust my chops back about working so much.
he went off to a local community college. at the time i lived not that far away from him. he was so happy to get out into the dorms. i would occassionally talk to him online— which was rare because he was always out doing something— being a resident assistant in the dorm— he said he wanted to do it to meet people. and meet people he did. i remember visiting him on campus and i felt like i was with the star of the football team— everyone seemed to know him and love him. i have to admit, i was jealous… but after all he went through, he deserved it. and he loved it.
just when things were all falling back into place, when leukemia seemed as though it was going to be a few pages in a huge chapter… i got the call. the cancer was back.
but jeremy was tough. if he was scared, i never knew it. this kid was going to face it down again with both middle fingers up. he tasted life and wanted more. screw cancer. he kicked its ass once, he’d do it again. and he did. but the second one took something out of him.
he went forward to finish up his two year degree. he wanted to write and draw comics, design video games… nothing was going to stop him from doing that. but the cancer thing was lingering it was pushing against him time and time again. but no matter what he was going to get his degree.
when i was going through some heavy personal shit, i remember talking to jeremy. my life as i knew it was falling apart before my eyes… i was confused, scared didn’t think i had many options. i was willing to spend my life miserable because i was too frightened to do anything about it… because doing something meant that i had to sacrifice things… that it would be hard… jeremy could do that in his sleep. he would say that life was too short to be miserable… i’m not saying that his words solely convinced me to change my life… but they helped.
earlier this year jeremy got sick again. i kidnapped him one day and took him to the art supply store. we talked about going to see iron man, the hulk, the new batman movie. i just thought that he would kick this round like the other two. i remember specifically driving home on route 49 with jeremy sitting next to me thinking, ” this is one of the toughest m—–f—-rs i know…” he was still doing the college thing… driving to syracuse for treatment week after week…
when i got settled into my new house, he came over to visit. and he was busting my chops as usual…because i had the house, the white picket fence, the beautiful girl, the small yappy dog… everything i said i’d never be — i became… jerk 🙂
that would be the last time i would see him outside of a hospital.
he went to university hospital not too long after that. i went up to visit him a couple times. i regret now that i didn’t bring a camera with me… i have no pictures of me and him together. with jeremy though, i was being uncharicteristcally optimistic… i’d get my picture with him… when he beat it this time, i told him i was taking his ass to get a tattoo.. i think he deserved it.
his mom called me and wanted to know if i wanted to make an artwork donation for a families of cancer of benefit… instead of pickingout something that was already done i decided to do the portrait of jeremy that you see at the beginning of this post. i mean it was for jeremy. the piece was going to be auctioned off… i knew that… i planned on doing another one just for him. someone was able to buy back the piece from whoever bought it… when i went to see him at th hospital the second time, the painting was right by his bed. that really got me.
but syracuse couldn’t knock the cancer out of him. so off to buffalo…another hospital, another cancer center… nothing. i was making plans to go and see him in buffalo but he left there for another experimental treatment in new york city. so i was starting to make plans to go down there. i kept putting off calling him. my life has become chaotic in the past few months… i couldn;t make five minutes to call him and bust his chops? i would do it. i have to… it’s jeremy.
yesterday, i got home after work… the dogs had wrecked the house, there was pee on the carpets, in my studio, lucy pooped in the bathroom… and i went insane… then my phone rang.
jeremy was gone. the world stopped for a moment.
before he passed, he made sure to tell his mom that he wanted me to be the first to know.
my friend, my boy, my little brother… was gone. his fight was over.
you never know how it feels until it happens to you. this is a mixed feeling. i’m glad that he’s done with the pain, the struggle, that he doesn’t have to spend anymore time in another goddamn hospital. eat another crappy hospital meal. lay awake all night, alone… with nothing but some dvds and a sketchbook by his side.
and i’m angry….i want to have coffee with my friend again… but i can’t. i want to be able to watch him develop as an artist and writer but i can’t. he was 24 years old. 24 years old. everything he ever wanted to do in his life, i’m doing. i’m doing what he wanted to do… i am living his dream… without even knowing it i am.
after yesterday, there are a bunch of little things that really don’t have the weight to me like they used to.
it was an honor to know you jeremy. i’ll never forget you dude.