Prospect's cartoonist of the month is Nick Downes
Nick’s cartoon (above) appears on page 3 of the May issue.
A couple of decades or so ago, I was working as crew, or “sternman” on a lobster boat off the Maine coast. One day it was too windy to go out, so I spent the morning at home drawing a lobster boat getting tossed violently about on huge, Hokusai-like waves, lobsters flying about, sternman thrown face down in the bait-box, and the lobsterman on the radio, drawling, in Mainer lingo, "Some choppy." I left it lying on the kitchen table and went upstairs. Later, I heard one of my housemates come in and then this really loud guffawing “Ho, Ho, Ho! HO, HO, HO, HO!,” like a deranged Santa Claus. It took me a moment to realise he'd stumbled upon my cartoon. It was like a small epiphany. I thought, wow—you can draw humor—like trapping a laugh in amber. You don't have to be around to tell the joke, it's there, captured on the page. It might even be more fun than stringing bags of bait into lobster pots. That was the beginning... I know it’s a terrible question to ask, but where do you get your ideas from?
Sometimes at a dinner party, or at someone's family gathering perhaps, someone will say, "You're a cartoonist? Boy, did you come to the right place! You're gonna get a lot of ideas from this wacky bunch!" Never happens. Nor do I ever see something occurring in real life that makes for a good cartoon. (Although, in Coney Island once, I saw a guy who had pulled his bumper-car off to the side, passed out. I remember thinking, how drunk do you have to be not to be able to drive a bumper car? A fairly straight-ahead visual of that made it into a cartoon.) Usually, however, a cartoon idea occurs to me that seems to have little relation to whatever I've just seen or heard or read. I assume it's faulty wiring, but wiring you don't want to fix, or even examine too closely.
How do you work—alone, hunched over a drawing board? On computer?
The key word, I'm afraid, is hunched. I now find myself flat on the floor, mornings, a lumbar roll under the small of my back, trying to stretch out muscles enough to allow me another day of hunching.
Do you ever laugh at your own cartoons?
Rarely, but I did dream a cartoon idea once and woke up laughing out loud. It was an odd sensation. (I've forgotten the idea.)
Have you ever regretted having a cartoon published?
I don't think I've ever regretted having a cartoon published, but a few have caused complaints. This one has engendered angry letters over the years, but it's also been a big hit:
Are there any topics that you don’t think are appropriate for cartoons?
You're a matador working close to the horns, when taking on such topics, but the feeling is especially piquant if you pull it off. You get gored, and deservedly so, if you're not very funny. I've always found humour empowering, in dark moments. The poor slob who gets off a zinger while walking to the gallows is kind of heroic, in my mind.
What would you change about the profession if you could?
There would, of course, be many more magazines using cartoons. The public loves cartoons—art directors, seemingly, less so.
What advice would you give a cartoonist starting out today?
I'd lie and say they've made a great career choice, as I'm grateful to those cartoonists who lied to me when I started out. What do people tend to say when you tell them you’re a cartoonist?
Their eyes light up and they say, "You mean like The Simpsons?" And you try to explain that, no, you do cartoons for magazines and newspapers. "Ohh! Like "Peanuts?" No, you do single-panels and— "You mean editorial cartoons? I love those!" Well, not exactly. It's more like... I tend not to tell people I'm a cartoonist.
What’s the best thing about being a cartoonist?
Going to the movies on a weekday afternoon.
A couple of decades or so ago, I was working as crew, or “sternman” on a lobster boat off the Maine coast. One day it was too windy to go out, so I spent the morning at home drawing a lobster boat getting tossed violently about on huge, Hokusai-like waves, lobsters flying about, sternman thrown face down in the bait-box, and the lobsterman on the radio, drawling, in Mainer lingo, "Some choppy." I left it lying on the kitchen table and went upstairs. Later, I heard one of my housemates come in and then this really loud guffawing “Ho, Ho, Ho! HO, HO, HO, HO!,” like a deranged Santa Claus. It took me a moment to realise he'd stumbled upon my cartoon. It was like a small epiphany. I thought, wow—you can draw humor—like trapping a laugh in amber. You don't have to be around to tell the joke, it's there, captured on the page. It might even be more fun than stringing bags of bait into lobster pots. That was the beginning... I know it’s a terrible question to ask, but where do you get your ideas from?
Sometimes at a dinner party, or at someone's family gathering perhaps, someone will say, "You're a cartoonist? Boy, did you come to the right place! You're gonna get a lot of ideas from this wacky bunch!" Never happens. Nor do I ever see something occurring in real life that makes for a good cartoon. (Although, in Coney Island once, I saw a guy who had pulled his bumper-car off to the side, passed out. I remember thinking, how drunk do you have to be not to be able to drive a bumper car? A fairly straight-ahead visual of that made it into a cartoon.) Usually, however, a cartoon idea occurs to me that seems to have little relation to whatever I've just seen or heard or read. I assume it's faulty wiring, but wiring you don't want to fix, or even examine too closely.
How do you work—alone, hunched over a drawing board? On computer?
The key word, I'm afraid, is hunched. I now find myself flat on the floor, mornings, a lumbar roll under the small of my back, trying to stretch out muscles enough to allow me another day of hunching.
Do you ever laugh at your own cartoons?
Rarely, but I did dream a cartoon idea once and woke up laughing out loud. It was an odd sensation. (I've forgotten the idea.)
Have you ever regretted having a cartoon published?
I don't think I've ever regretted having a cartoon published, but a few have caused complaints. This one has engendered angry letters over the years, but it's also been a big hit:
You're a matador working close to the horns, when taking on such topics, but the feeling is especially piquant if you pull it off. You get gored, and deservedly so, if you're not very funny. I've always found humour empowering, in dark moments. The poor slob who gets off a zinger while walking to the gallows is kind of heroic, in my mind.
What would you change about the profession if you could?
There would, of course, be many more magazines using cartoons. The public loves cartoons—art directors, seemingly, less so.
What advice would you give a cartoonist starting out today?
I'd lie and say they've made a great career choice, as I'm grateful to those cartoonists who lied to me when I started out. What do people tend to say when you tell them you’re a cartoonist?
Their eyes light up and they say, "You mean like The Simpsons?" And you try to explain that, no, you do cartoons for magazines and newspapers. "Ohh! Like "Peanuts?" No, you do single-panels and— "You mean editorial cartoons? I love those!" Well, not exactly. It's more like... I tend not to tell people I'm a cartoonist.
What’s the best thing about being a cartoonist?
Going to the movies on a weekday afternoon.
