“All you have in comedy, in general, is just going with your instincts. You can only hope that other people think that what you think is funny is funny. I don’t have an answer but I just try to plough straight ahead.” – Will Ferrell
When I was fifteen, my boyfriend was funny in a way that was maybe not entirely normal and I liked that. He embodied a raw sense of play that was indifferent to authority and more focused on his own creative world. I liked thinking of comedy in that way– as a series of minor teenage rebellions– as a reaction against suburban monotony– as a certain personal freedom.
Bored on a rainy day? He would find a chicken mask in the garage and together we would build a reclusive mutant. I would artfully attach the mask to a pillow, stuff some clothes, and assemble the body together. He would prop the recluse up so it’s hanging from the ceiling like an actual person. Then, we would dance the running man with him. He would feed him meatballs. I would walk back into the room like “Oh, exxxxchuuuuseeee me!” We could do this all night. We could not stop laughing– welcoming this weirdo into our world again and again and again with open arms.
Is building the reclusive mutant scarecrow art? Is interacting with the reclusive mutant scarecrow comedy? I don’t know.
At fifteen, you are not concerned with what something is, you just want to be making things with other people. There is no big picture. No agenda. There is just this ephemeral soft moment— your instincts, your friends, and you ploughing forward.
And, this is still how I feel as an adult, twenty years later. I want to keep supporting and interacting with other artists and writers and comedians who evoke this feeling. It’s what life is all about.
This is why I am happy to be drawing and designing a series of comedy posters for friend Josh Fadem and his show in Los Angeles. Enclosed are the first two out of ten. It’s every Wednesday at 8 pm in LA. Go seeeeeeeeee it.
Revising Loneliness 