Lots of observations:

Being sandwiched between two famous people isn’t good for you. My first thought was “Wow, we’re in between the Topatoco tables and Rica Takashima” and that the overflow traffic would browse our wares. The overflow traffic obscured our line of sight. But it was equally amazing to be next to Kate Beaton and Rica all weekend – they are gracious, humble, and completely tolerant of our crap spilling all over the place.

Rica writes yuri (“forbidden girl love”, as a loose Japanese translation, “sexual identity” as a stronger English version). Not sure that everyone who was browsing her half of the table quite grasped that at first, but I’m hoping that anyone who bought her comics went from uncomfortable to understanding. As my friend Jim says “Art should make you uncomfortable” – but that’s just the first step in developing an appreciation for it. Rica also donated all of her proceeds to support Japanese tsunami disaster relief. She and her crew were really outstanding table-mates.

I’m surprised, but not really, how many artists are shy. Erik sometimes says to me that I’m the “people person” in our little operation, and if I think about the artists I’ve gotten to know, they are (mostly) a more introverted bunch. Talking to a few thousand people, doing inscriptions and drawings on the fly, even having to sneak out for food and coffee without a breadcrumb trail of fan boys and girls therefore is much harder than for someone like me who is used to sales, shaking hands, and drawing in traffic. I have a significantly deeper appreciation for show exhibitors who cross outside their own comfort zones to help promote their work (and I’ve added to the list of retirement projects – promotion of independent artists).

I didn’t get to walk around and shop as much as I did as an attendee, and I’ll have to make up the spending deficit in post production. I did, however, get one of Christiann MacAuley’s Steampunk Mr. Peanut t-shirts. Third year in a row I’ve bought something from her. She’s funny.

There’s a collegial spirit at the show that is completely different from technology trade shows. Effectively, everyone is competing for the same eyeballs, the same dollars, the same table traffic. I heard several parents say “Pick one thing” (another side note/rant – when it comes to books, art, or music, why would you ever limit your kids’ consumption? Exposure to variety is good, within budget and reason). Other exhibitors traded books and prints with us, and were happy to talk “shop.” It’s not unexpected, but it’s also a strong statement about the overall feel of MoCCA – it’s independent artists building brands and gaining visibility, not pure commercial interests.

I had the pleasure of meeting SP Burke, the creator of “Oh, Goodie” and a fellow Rush fan. Saw one of his prints of the other Holy Trinity and laughed out loud, we did the instant bonding-over-Lerxst thing, and I offered him a spare ticket for the Rush show last night at the Garden. Yes, he didn’t know Rush was in town, and yes, we had a great time at the show. If only he knew how prophetic his “Working Man” comic (day before MoCCA started) would be [ed note for the uninitiated: Rush finished the show with "Working Man"]

For me the hardest part was changing my mindset between Saturday and Sunday. My expectation on Saturday was that we’d sell a lot of shirts and comics, and I’ve had to worry about walking through New York with a carnie roll of bills. We didn’t even cover our pro-rated costs on Saturday. But another artist told me “I’m happy if I make cab fare from the airport home” I felt better, and once again remembered the goal is to build readership. So we started giving away the black and white comics (total cost to print being a fraction of our outlay) and suddenly we had traffic. Best part of the day was someone leafing through Issue #1 and asking how Erik achieved one of the stippling effects. Close second – Bill Plympton himself picked up a copy, and then he stopped to talk comics with Erik on the show floor.

Final random thought: For years I’ve wondered if the way we teach history and literature (English) is outdated. When we were stuck with a hierarchy of writing forms – letters, diaries, memoirs, journals and books – it made perfect sense to use prose as a way to analyze and convey meaning. But face it – (almost) everyone likes “West Side Story” more than “Romeo and Juliet”. It’s funnier, it has better music and it’s a more contemporary treatment of star crossed lovers. I’ve seen my own kids get to use alternative media to explore the language arts: blogs written from the perspective of Holden Caufield, or a mockup of a character’s Facebook page. Why not? The goal is to teach analysis, critical thinking and to discover thematic elements, and you can do that through any number of expressive vehicles. Put another way: Kate Beaton should teach history through comics, because more people would grok Santayana’s quotes about remembering the past.

So say “hello” to Amphibimen Comics. Follow us on Facebook, where you’ll find updates on our various ideas: t-shirts, art prints, stickers, of course some comic books, a chap book or ten and whatever else we can find ways to produce on a small scale (extremely limited edition figurines?)

There’s a backstory, as there always is: My late aunt and uncle owned a children’s clothing store, and one of the larger plush toys they sold was a very dapper looking frog, wearing a bow tie and notch collar, named “Neil”. I adored that stupid frog. It wasn’t healthy, and it went on for a while.

Between Erik and me, Neil The Frog became a minor super hero. He was battling evil with Jewish neuroses and all of the aplomb, gravitas and, well, hygiene you’d expect of a swamp guy who was forced into literal hemi-semi-formal clothing. This all went on very quietly until Erik and I were charged with painting windows for a high school event (OK, any Freehold Township residents, it was the very firstFTHS Battle of the Classes in 1980), and Erik drew Neil in a variety of superhero like poses, making (I thought) outstanding analogies to the sporting events we were supposedly promoting. Neil became our own goofy Olympic-caliber mascot. Our teacher advisor didn’t see eye to raised eye with us, and Neil’s debut on the wire-reinforced windows was somewhat short-lived.

Fast forward 30 years, and Erik and I have decided to bring the Amphibimen, their villanous rivals, and an assortment of other ideas out of Erik’s sketchbooks and into t-shirts and iPads everywhere.

And here I thought I was the only one who made Erdos number jokes. Unfortunately, Erdos number theorists would dispute validity of newly acquired Erdos deuces (my newly minted term, flame my way) using Hank Aaron as a counter-example of how not to hit a theoretical home run through signature power alone.

Tip of the hockey bubble to Eszter Hargittai – an early morning tweet pointed to the fact that Google searches trying to grok the punchline were trending up this morning.

In case my nerdiness was in doubt, net summary of first hour of consciousness on this Friday: Saw a Facebook status update via Twitter that referenced an online comic that made a math joke about Erdos number 2 and made me think of Hank Aaron.

So I blogged about it. That’s where my kids say “Dad, you’re a nerd”. That’s a geek round-tripper.

This weekend is the annual Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art Festival. Finally having outgrown the semi-random floor layout in the Puck Building, this year the show moves up to the 69th Regiment Armory in New York City, on Lex between 25th and 26th streets (and according to the my sister, the home of some truly great Indian restaurants). In addition to seeing personal favorites Jeph Jacques, Meredith Gran and Richard Stevens, I inevitably find some new Jewish-themed artists, writers or print materials. There’s a great summary of Jewish-themed comics and their presence at MoCCA at the Jewish Comics blog. Last year I had a short but informative conversation with Miriam Libicki, whose comics about serving in the Israeli Army gave me a tremendous perspective of what my two “adopted Israeli daughters” will face when they enlist this summer. I discovered Joann Sfar and her Klezmer-themed comics, one of the bases for a 2007-08 Princeton University freshman seminar. And of course, Meredith Gran is Jewish; Steven’s Diesel Sweeties character Pete is Jewish; and Jeph Jacques has captured enough OCD in Hannalore to make me wonder if she (or the artist) has a Jewish mother hiding in that well-ordered family tree.

I’ll be tweetin’ and meetin’ from 11am on Saturday, with my newly-minted Moo cards literally in hand.

Last week I got a smile-generating email from Pops: He sold a painting. On the home studio scale, it’s a nice deal; it’s as much a boost to the artistic ego as to the weekend (and weakened) cash flow. The second line of my father’s email put it in context, though: He was proud to sell a painting when the “real art” market seems to have tanked worse than the local housing market. Sotheby’s and Christie’s can’t move the “name” artists now, with nearly a third of recent auction pieces going unsold.

More than ever, we need art. I’m tired of graphs that go down and to the right; I don’t want to look at red numbers on a screen because there’s only a backwards-looking story in them. Art is healthy. Art is something that makes us laugh, think, feel uncomfortable, or remember what it was like when we took that picture we consider postcard-worthy. Supporting local, small-scale artists will do more for the economy than buying a museum piece because you’ll help a starving artist fund supplies or entertainment, pumping that money right back into the economy. My contribution this week: one not-so-scary Bear Monster shirt from Jeph Jacques’ repertoire. Topatoco, Jeph, UPS, and wherever Jeph spent some of the proceeds on art-enhancing food and drink get small-scary benefits; I just look more bear-like. Both are good things.

Music: “In the Cage”, Genesis Live Over Europe; “Pass the Peas”, Maceo Parker Roots & Grooves (the bass line and guitar solo in this version just kill); “Ozark”, Pat Metheny Group As Falls Wichita; “Your Majesty Is Like A Creme Donut”, Hatfield and the North, The Rotter’s Club; “Lines on My Face”, Peter Frampton, Frampton Comes Alive. There’s probably some bizarre Cambridge (UK) connection between Genesis and Hatfield; I’m waiting for someone at our GSE meeting to fill me in (last year, someone handed me a sampler CD of Porcupine Tree and I was hooked).

Words: Finishing up Rush drummer Neal Peart’s Ghost Rider, the travelogue of his 55,000 mile journey during which he attempted to re-assemble his life after the deaths of his wife and daughter. I read his Road Show: Landscape with Drums and adored the travel writing interspersed with behind the scenes concert vignettes so I went one level deeper into his work. Great backdrop for having seen Rush just a few weeks ago; the books provider greater appreciation of Peart’s lyrics on the last two Rush releases.

Threads: I may be able to complete the hat trick of Diesel Sweeties venue-appropriate shirts: I’m currently sporting the metallic Clango shirt to arrive in Berlin, a tangential nod to Tangerine Dream and Kraftwerk; on my way to Montreal on Friday I’ll cross the border in my Canada 2.eh maple leaf shirt and then for California the week after, it’s Electric Sheep and obscure Blade Runner references. The electric sheep shirt gets only slightly fewer stares than my xkcd sudo shirt, but that’s part of un-glamour of business travel. I tend to travel comfortably unless I’m going directly from plane to meeting; if I have time to change I’m going to represent the Sun brand in my behavior (despite any number of delays, bad meals and weak coffee servings) but dress code reverts to my peculiar brand of culture.

[Warning: links may contain content that is strong-R, not work appropriate and definitely frowned upon by someone's parents. I know you'll click from home]. Finally got to meet Meredith Gran of Octopus Pie creative talent, as well as Jeph Jacques of Questionable Content. I was truly bummed I missed Randall Munroe of xkcd because he may be the only other person in the world who makes jokes about NP-completeness, and yet he does it professionally.

A few things struck me this year: It was much more crowded than last year, which I take to be a good sign for the self-publishing Internet comic crowd. Richard Stevens was doing a brisk business in themed socks; I ended up coming home with stickers, buttons, a Jacques sketch, an Octopus Pie book, and a hardbound copy of Rutu Modan’s graphic novel Exit Wounds. It was something of a Woody Allen movie setting, with my father (an artist) and sister (a fairly stereotypical New Yorker) accompanying me as we kept running into Jewish themed work and I dreaded that we should feel guilt over having so much fun with the material: Rutu Modan’s work, Hereville (a comic about a young Orthodox Jewish girl), talking to Miriam Libicki (and buying a copy of Toward a Hot Jew, her comic treatise on the Israeli soldier, all puns intended) and leafing through a copy of Joan Sfar’s Klezmer comics (later purchased via amazon.com after I regretted not purchasing it at the show). My take-away was that comics provide another medium for telling short, powerful stories; the graphic novels popularized by train-bound Japanese salarymen convey more than just a simple train of thought. One of the exhibitors, Marek Bennett teaches the value of comics as educational vehicles.

Comics aren’t serious business, of course, because they’re comics, and even Michael Chabon’s story about the comic book lives of comic book creators can’t make them mainstream. I think that’s why they appeal to closet system administrators like me. But I was left the with distinct impression that as an art form ideally suited for online syndication and serialization, one that benefits tremendously from relaxed copyright enforcement (Diesel Sweeties, Octopus Pie and xkcd are all available under Creative Commons licenses) to drive recommendation and readership, and the quenching of our thirst for graphical content with creative use of space and color to convey context as well as information, self-published web comics are in their infancy – the start of another golden age of things parents still don’t approve of.

The artwork is fantastic, the realizations of the characters contain enough subtle hints and jokes to make each panel worthy of a Hidden Mickey-like scan, and they’re, well, cool comics. If you didn’t know that Doctorow and other current fave Charles Stross collaborated on a few stories (and that Stross’ work draws heavily on H.P. Lovecraft), you’d find the sysadm sporting a “Hello, Cthulhu” t-shirt only mildly amusing instead of an entreaty to open “When Sysadmins Ruled The Earth.”

To quote Jerry from Craphound, each one is a poem in colors and a story in layout.

There’s something resembling engineering in setting up a joke or cultural reference in just a few frames, building on everything from internet memes to cross-references with the author’s personal likes and dislikes. Charles Schultz, a hockey fan, made sure Snoopy had a miniature Zamboni for Woodstock’s frozen birdbath-turned-hockey rink, popularizing the Zamboni more than TC coverage of the NHL. Bill Watterson had recrurring, and hilarious, snowmen riffs appearing in Calvin and Hobbes.

Despite following most strips online, I still love to pick up the occasional book. This week’s acquisition was the first set of Diesel Sweeties syndicated strips, which I ordered with the souvenir Clango t-shirt so that it arrived personalized by R. Stevens. If he thinks I’m the “King of Jersey”, who am I to argue? In the comic world, you can suspend all belief, three panels at a time.

Warning: a lot of references below aren’t exactly work safe. I’ve tried to hide the Clicks Most Likely To Get Filtered at least one level deep.

My latest daily chuckle comes from R. Stevens’ Diesel Sweeties. The online version is a strong PG-13 or mild R rating; the syndicated version (which has happily appeared in the Newark Star-Ledger!) is not quite PG on a saucy day. There are just so many things to love about this strip: it’s pixelated, so it has that retro videogame feel; the humor including the strip titles is equal parts surly and subtle; and it’s merchandised so you can share the really good panels or sub-panels. If you believe that androids really do dream of electric sheep, there’s both a T-shirt and an online strip to share your point of view (click on the link in the T-shirt description to backtrack to the original comic with android dreams, the surrounding strips veer into some exercises left for the reader to explain). I’m looking forward to wearing my pixelated Maple Leaf shirt to Toronto this weekend.

Being the nerd and n00b games theory student that I am, though, I’m equally attracted to the advertising mechanic run by Project Wonderful. They accept bids for small ads below the online DS strips, currently running about $1.50 per day, and the continuous auction inlines the top bidders. With the strip getting north of 40,000 impressions a day, that means that for about one-third of what I spend on coffee a week, I could get a quarter-million ad impressions. It’s a tempting trade-off: cut down on robot juice and juice up the personal blog?

On top of all this, DS just oozes “web next” aggregating pheromones: Stevens lets you use strips for non-commercial purposes, like posting one in your blog provided you host the image yourself (Why not? You’re more than likely to link back to the online comic and drive more traffic). The T-shirts are some of the more fun atoms derived from bits, and it’s how he makes money (Monetization of something that’s free?!!?) I have spent more on DS T-shirts this year than on newspaper subscriptions, including my online one-timers. And the advertising model has both a floor and a ceiling that any artistes, auteurs, and low-budget bohemians can adore.