Bohemian like me

When I was a girl, I used to wish that I had the kind of family that played musical instruments and recited poetry at parties, that would sit around talking about books they'd read and travel all over the world. I imagined animals in the house. A dog running excitedly after children, barking with delight, birds twittering in a cage and a cat slinking around a chair. Eclectic people would drop by for enlightening conversation; professors and travelers, visitors from other countries. We'd have a library full of books and all kinds of instruments sitting around like telescopes. I can see it so clearly, even now. It was probably from a movie I saw.

What I didn't realize then is that I actually had a pretty eclectic family, compared to most people I knew. We grew our own food and eschewed traditional medicine. We went for long hikes and bike rides together and to museums and historical sites. We drove cross country twice. My parents took us to Europe several times. I climbed the Eiffel Tower and stayed in a French country house. We toured Neuschwanstein Castle and picnicked in the Black Forest. We drove all over England and Wales and my brother and I danced all night at The Hacienda in Manchester. At home, we didn't watch TV, instead our favorites were The Marx Brothers and Alfred Hitchcock movies. I knew movies from the sixties better than any from the eighties. Exchange students from Japan, Germany and Sweden stayed at our house for a year at a time and my best friends in school were usually from other countries.

Instead of artists or professors, though, my parents were engineers and didn't care much for the arts. My dad was strict and controlling, not the kind sympathetic father that Gidget had. My friends didn't like being at my house (no TV, no junk food!) and I wasn't allowed to stay at anyone else's house. We rarely had animals and spent years sneaking cats into the house before my dad gave up protesting. Even though my parents had friends, they rarely came over and most of them weren't the kind that belonged in my bohemian household. The elements missing were art, chaos and wacky but genuine love and affection. I still dream of that household even though I'm unmarried, have no pets and keep a pretty tidy house.

In recent weeks, however, I've noticed myself frequently commenting (to myself, of course) that I have so many cool friends! The kind of friends that I imagined dropping by my dream family's house. Max was on Charlie Rose talking about his book, Adam is making a feature and writes a biting political blog, Annmarie is educating people on native nutrition and making all of her own food from scratch, Ross' first feature premieres next month, Steve is putting investor's packages together for a soon-to-be Broadway musical and Addi plays a balloon bass in Unpopable, now available on iTunes. They have a fantastic video that really sums up that wackiness that feels like home to me. I guess it's not surprising that I've become the bohemian I always wanted to be.

Making a difference

I went to a screening last night at the Cartoon Art Museum for a documentary directed by a friend up from L.A. The Indepdents promised to be about the creative process, told from the perspective of comic book artists. I was afraid that it was going to be a painfully geeky foray into a world I know little about and was not particularly intrigued by. I took the bus up from San Jose, walked to the BART station and took the train two stops, rushing to make it by 7pm and skipping dinner. Three attempts to get a date had failed so I had plenty of opportunities to decide not to go, but I persisted.

I’m glad I did because several times during the film I found myself smiling and thinking “Right on!” First of all, these people are much more than illustrators; they’re storytellers in the purest sense. They sit down to a blank page with a pen and create a world, inhabit it with characters, give them dialogue and take us through an exciting narrative with amazing efficiency. Wendy Pini, an artist in the film, was there for a Q&A and described her 30-year old 'Elfquest' as the never ending battle between knowledge and ignorance. “I’m not interested in good and evil,” she said, “I’m much more interested in how people can understand each other through communication. “Elfquest” is very idealistic; it’s all about how people should treat each other.” I was surprised that many of them, like Wendy, knew they had a story to tell and chose comics as the medium because they could be producer, director, writer, actor and the studio – with the power to green light their own projects.

A few historical points were touched on and I learned that at the height of comic books' popularity with young adults, the industry was attacked for “eroding the minds of youth,” much the way rock and roll, rap music and video games have been. Comics began to be regulated and some were censored, many went out of business. The most palatable ideas, the superhero genre we’re so familiar with, were rewarded with unprecedented success and the marketing shifted to children, further marginalizing other comic styles.

I could relate with many of the artists in the film who took a long time to accept themselves as artists. Certainly it’s not easy to be an artist but my attempts to work a corporate job and be a weekend warrior have made me miserable. To my surprise, while I was frustrated as a poor cocktail waitress with roommates, I feel that those days were some of my happiest. I had the freedom to do what I wanted, including exercise, had abundant creativity and discipline to write, and felt that I was genuinely pursuing something important to me.

There was one guy in the film, Craig Thompson (“Blankets”), who really struck a chord with me. He constantly wonders if he should be doing something more humanitarian. He feels guilty being a comic book artist when he could be doing more to help his fellow man. I honestly have never heard anyone express that, even though I think it is exactly what plagues me. Back in college, I started wrestling with that issue, taking Women’s Studies, working for the College Democrats and dreaming of a career in politics. All the while, I was auditioning for films on campus and performing improve in the summers. I pursued acting despite my upbringing and internal messages telling me that it was frivolous, indulgent, a bad choice for a career, had a huge chance of failure, etc. Unfortunately for me, the desire to do something to make a difference hasn’t propelled me into great humanitarian work (although I do my fair share of volunteering), it has only kept me from truly being an artist. I deal with overwhelming feelings of guilt in wanting to be a filmmaker when there are issues I feel so strongly about and the obvious “answer” of making a documentary about those issues is wholly unappealing to me.

As I have sat at the crossroads of choosing a new path or recommitting myself to filmmaking, those feelings have become more pronounced. “I have to believe that comics are doing some good for people too,” Thompson concludes. Certainly Wendy Pini found a way to tell her story, be an artist and communicate a higher ideal that is meaningful to her. The answer, for me then, is to do what I love and believe I will make the difference I am meant to make.