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Denis Kitchen's Chipboard Sketchbook - Hardcover
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Price:
$19.95
(in stock)
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DENIS
KITCHEN’S CHIPBOARD SKETCHBOOK
Following
on
the heels of THE ODDLY COMPELLING ART OF DENIS KITCHEN, an overview
of the pioneering underground cartoonist (Dark Horse Books, 2010),
DENIS KITCHEN’S CHIPBOARD SKETCHBOOK is comprised of the peculiar
drawings on “chipboard” that Kitchen has done below the radar for many
years. Chipboard is the heavy, grainy card stock at the base of writing
tablets. The artist started the habit of drawing on this unlikely
substance during long, often boring production meetings at Kitchen Sink
Press, his former publishing company, when he would flip his notes
tablet over and doodle with a combination of the only tools at hand: a
Sharpie pen and fine-point uni-ball pen.
With subject matter often extremely bizarre, or, in his own words, even
“demented,” Kitchen filed these away for many years. They were seen
only his close friends and colleagues until this collection.
Measuring 6 1/4 x 8 3/4 inches, the book features an extra thick 3 mm
cover stock (chipboard, of course) with a de-bossed cover image and
horizontal belly band. The full-color 128-page hardcover was edited and
designed by Greg Sadowski and art directed by John Lind. The same pair
won an American Graphic Design Award for their work on “Underground
Classics” (by Kitchen & James Danky, Abrams, 2009).
ISBN # 978-0-9788851-1-3
Note:
contains some images not suitable for minors.
FOR
OUR WEB SITE ONLY:
CHIPBOARD SKETCHBOOK, Standard
edition = $19.95 (signed on request)
CHIPBOARD SKETCHBOOK
One-of-a-Kind Edition, Illustrated by the Artist: $100
For
the personalized edition, available only from this web
site, Denis Kitchen will create one of his patented chipboard drawings
on the thick chipboard back cover. None of these are alike. Though
these drawings are by nature spontaneous and pulled from the id, he
will incorporate a personal theme on request. Samples of personalized
back covers are shown here. Such covers will be signed (and numbered in
the order created). $100
About the author:
Denis
Kitchen’s career began in 1968 as a self-published “underground”
cartoonist (Mom's Homemade Comics). This led to the formation of
his pioneer publishing company, Kitchen Sink Press. For thirty years he
published classic and underground artists alike, including R. Crumb,
Will Eisner, Harvey Kurtzman, Milton Caniff, Al Capp, Scott McCloud,
Dave McKean, Mark Schultz, Howard Cruse, Justin Green, Alan Moore, Art
Spiegelman and Charles Burns. During these years Kitchen Sink won
industry awards far disproportionate to its market share, sometimes
more than any other publisher. In 1986 he founded and for its first
eighteen years served as President of the Comic Book Legal Defense
Fund, a non-profit organization dedicated to defending the industry's
First Amendment rights.
After
the
demise of Kitchen Sink Press in 1999, his diversified activities
include being a literary and art agent for a number of prominent
clients and estates. Wearing a writer’s hat, he co-authored two books
in 2009 for Abrams: “Underground Classics” and “The Art of
Harvey Kurtzman.” Both received award nominations and the latter
won both an Eisner Award and Harvey Award in 2010. He is currently
working on a biography of Al Capp. Dark Horse Books published “The
Oddly Compelling Art of Denis Kitchen” in 2010 and, in conjunction,
a retrospective of his work was exhibited at New York City’s Museum of
Comic and Cartoon Art (MoCCA) in 2010-11.
Back cover
text
Underground cartoonist and longtime publisher
Denis Kitchen began drawing on the “chipboard” back of writing tablets
during long, often boring meetings at Kitchen Sink Press, starting in
the late 80s. These spontaneous drawings, done primarily with Sharpie
markers and uni-ball pens, are distinctly surreal. The peculiar
textured surfaces, unusual drawing tools, and possibly peeks into the
artist’s id contribute equally to the unique look. After accumulating
nearly a quarter century of these private drawings in drawers, Kitchen
was persuaded by associates to publish the roughly 150 examples
showcased within this book, presented with an introduction by the
artist. Readers interested in seeing his better known art or learning
about his diverse counterculture career should look at “The Oddly
Compelling Art of Denis Kitchen” (Dark Horse, 2010).
Reviews:
“The aesthetics of a piece of
artwork are informed by the medium it's created with. The same drawing
can take on different qualities on two different stocks of paper, or
with two different grades of graphite. It's the tactile aspect of art
that doesn't seem to get talked about much outside of art school.
Fortunately, it's front and center in DENIS KITCHEN'S CHIPBOARD
SKETCHBOARD... The line work is
remarkably effortless and whimsical and the drawings on the whole are
hysterical; all the rubbery anatomy, devilish grins, and disturbing
little beasties that are attendant when perusing a book of Kitchen
artwork are on full display here... It's really amazing to
consider that all of these suitably bizarre pieces are drawn on the
spot....The shading, the proportion, and the pure comic bombast
collected are an absolute pleasure to look at, and everything here
provides further proof that Kitchen is a master cartoonist.”
---The Outhouse
From the Introduction:
MY PECULIAR FASCINATION WITH DRAWING ON
CHIPBOARD
By Denis Kitchen
Sufficiently ancient readers of underground comix and some younger
comix fans know that once upon a time I was a bona fide cartoonist.
Though never exactly prolific, I debuted professionally in the late
‘60s with a solo self-published comic book (Mom’s Homemade Comics:
Straight from the Kitchen to You) and for a short while managed to
make a living just by writing and drawing funny pictures. But early in
my cartooning career I joined the dark side and became a publisher.
Soon the obligations of Kitchen Sink Press, consumed me. During the
transitional period I managed to contribute short pieces and covers to
a number of undergrounds and in the ‘70s I even did a weekly strip for
a while and created numerous covers for alternative newspapers. Much of
this has been collected in The Oddly Compelling Art of Denis Kitchen
(Dark Horse Books, 2010).
But Kitchen Sink’s steady growth over thirty years, till its demise in
1999, made it increasingly difficult for me to find time to draw. I
would periodically be lured or browbeaten by an outside editor but the
literal cobwebs on the “assignments” thumb-tacked to my drawing board
were the basis of running office jokes. It wasn’t that I didn’t want
to draw. I love drawing. But the pressures of meeting a weekly
payroll for as many as thirty employees, striving to meet scores of
editorial and production deadlines every month and simply surviving in
an intensely competitive market meant the Artist in me was of necessity
subservient to the Businessman.
I can’t speak for other cartoonists whose natural urge to draw takes a
back seat to economic reality, but in my case, the practical outlet for
that compulsive drive became doodling. As the head of Kitchen Sink, I
was obligated to participate in seemingly endless corporate meetings,
editorial meetings, marketing meetings, production meetings, planning
sessions and so on. To some participants in those meetings I may have
appeared rapt with attention at the head of the long table, taking
“notes” on an ever-present writing tablet attached to a clipboard. And
in fact I was listening and participating with a reasonably
large portion of my brain. But in reality the tablet was often flipped
over and I was drawing on the side with “chipboard,” the term printers
use for the heavy cardstock forming the base of ordinary writing
tablets.
For reasons I can’t fully explain, I grew —and remain— quite fond of
chipboard and its somewhat coarse, pulpy surface texture. My drawing
tools were simple: a Sharpie pen for thick lines and a Uni-Ball Micro
ballpoint for shading and more detailed “noodling.” That odd threesome
—Sharpies, Uni-Balls and chipboard— grew at first out of convenience:
they were all that I had in meetings. But then I maintained the
combination from aesthetic pleasure.
On several fundamental levels the art in this
book, and certainly the technique, differs drastically from the art in
the Oddly Compelling book.
When drawing commercial comics or illustrations for publication I first
think of the idea/image, do thumbnails, then create layouts on a cold
press illustration board. There the pencil lines can easily be erased
until the preliminary outlines are satisfactory. I then carefully apply
ink to the pencils using a Winsor & Newton Series 7 No. 3 sable
brush. If a mistake is made, those inked lines can be covered with
white correction paint and re-inked. To a confirmed “brush man,”
controlling the tip of the delicately tapered Russian fur is something
akin to playing a finely crafted and tuned violin. My inking technique
is by nature slow. I love to include fine detail, subtle shading and
tiny elements that few readers ever see (especially when the larger
images are reduced for publication). I take pride in most inked
drawings and I certainly don’t intend to stop using a brush.
But the drawings in this collection are polar opposites of my
brushwork. One obvious distinction is the lower contrast between the
natural color of chipboard and black ink in comparison to the harsh
contrast of black on a pure white surface. The textures are likewise
dissimilar. Under magnification the surface of chipboard looks like a
choppy, stormy sea compared to the placid water of cold press
illustration board.
Most critically, my chipboard drawings are completely spontaneous,
never conceived ahead of time and never penciled. I have no idea what
I’m going to do when the Sharpie point hits board. That makes for
exhilarating creative danger. If inking penciled under drawings with a
brush is akin to following a musical score on a violin, then Sharpies
on chipboard is more like drumming loose and free to a jungle rhythm. I
allow my sub-conscious mind to take control, even as I’m consciously
listening to someone drone on.
Without preconceived direction, I will typically start with an abstract
line on the chipboard. It might quickly evolve into a vague nose or an
ear, but once that general direction is established I still do not know
if the ear belongs to a human, a creature or neither. This
stream-of-consciousness approach concocts images that often genuinely
surprise me as the lines unfold. This form of self-entertainment is
itself both incentive and reward.
Because of the spontaneity of creation and
the unforgiving nature of the pens, no “mistakes” can be erased. If I’m
unhappy with an indelible line, I simply ignore it or work around the
imperfection, often leading to new surprises. And since these mere
doodles were never intended for publication (until now) and rarely seen
by anyone, the immediate permanence of every stroke or stipple was
never intimidating. Creating chipboard drawings is a distinctly
liberating alternative to the planned, painstaking formality involved
in creating comic art or illustrations. The latter are altogether
different accomplishments but generally are more work than pleasure.
Certain motifs reoccur in chipboard art that I cannot rationally
explain: strange birds, gnarled wings attached to men and beasts,
peculiar headwear, human feet on animals, devil horns, grimacing teeth
and twisted limbs. I suppose on some level these uninhibited chipboard
drawings could be a therapeutic release of internal demons. If so,
they’ve conceivably saved me a small fortune in psychotherapy. But I
prefer not reading any meaning whatever into images, whether recurring
or singular. Sometimes a winged fish-headed man with horns is just a
winged fish-headed man with horns, right?
I used to feel a certain residual guilt about doodling during those
company meetings. Could my apparent inattentiveness have contributed to
the eventual collapse of Kitchen Sink Press? Those were genuine, if
fleeting, concerns. But last year I ran across a reassuring tidbit in WebMD.
It said studies demonstrated that doodling during meetings
actually helps retain key information. In fact, according to
the British study in Applied Cognitive Psychology, doodlers
retained 29% more information than non-doodlers tested in a control
group.
Of the hundreds of chipboard drawings I created during countless
now-forgotten meetings or long phone calls, editor/art director John
Lind and designer Greg Sadowski helped me select the finalists in this
collection. Sorting through more than two decades of accumulated
chipboard drawings while assembling this book has actually inspired me
to start drawing again in this manner. Now I keep the trusty trio of
tools next to my living room easy chair and find myself frequently
reaching for chipboard and Sharpie or Uni-Ball during boring TV shows
and interminable commercials. Evidently boring company meetings are not
a prerequisite for chipboard doodling. And as an unexpected bonus,
compared to family members seated nearby, I retain 29% more of all
infomercials.
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