If you think I was being too tough on artist Sharon Moody in my two recent posts, what Brian Bolland had to say about a similar situation—one during which he was the victim—makes anything I had to say look like a Valentine!

Bolland, who is perhaps most well-known for having drawn Batman: The Killing Joke and who created my favorite Batman: Black and White story, the chilling “An Innocent Guy,” was stunned when he visit the Pompidou Centre gift shop in 2010 and found “a large poster of MY ‘Tank Girl’ signed by you [Icelandic artist Erró] and on sale for 600 Eu. It consisted of a badly copied version of my work and, where the original logo had been, a group of figures presumably taken from Maoist Social Realism.”

To the left is a photo of Bolland with his original piece, and to the right is a photo of Bolland in front of that gift shop and the poster by Erró.

Here’s a small part of Bolland’s open letter to the artist who used his work without attribution: (more…)

While I was definitely hoping that attention would be paid to the paintings of Sharon Moody—or why else would I have told you about them Saturday in “A few words in defense of Jack Kirby, Sal Buscema, Irv Novick, and other anonymized artists“—I’m stunned by how viral my post went, with spirited conversation not just here, but over at Bleeding Cool, The Beat, Byrne Robotics, reddit, Twitter, and all across Facebook.

Most of you felt my point was valid, but I’d like to respond to some of the concerns of those who didn’t … though first, I’d like to share a couple of intriguing comments made by others.

First up, over at Byrne Robotics, John Byrne (who as you can see, I’ve known a long, long time) wrote:

Imagine if some “artist” got an old fashioned projector and a copy of some Disney movie made within the last thirty or forty years, and then set it up in a gallery, playing the movie against a blank wall, and saying it was a “comment” on how everything is going digital these days.

How long before Disney shut ’em down—hard?

This kind of thing happens with comics only because of the extreme contempt most people have for the form. Comics are not “art”, you know. When Roy Lichtenstein plagiarized Alex Toth, or Steve Ditko, or Jack Kirby, he was ELEVATING their pathetic creations.

FEH!!!

Meanwhile, over on her blog, Irene Vartanoff, who was in charge of rights and permissions at DC Comics in the 1980s (and who happens to be my wife, but don’t let that bias you), wrote:

Some comic book artists have helped support themselves in their old age by re-drawing comic book pages they were hired to originally create as works for hire for the companies in years past. Usually, the companies look the other way instead of pursuing these elderly artists for this kind of commercial use, presumably because it doesn’t involve enough money to be worth the lawsuits, and it would result in bad press. In fact, Disney did pursue the artist Carl Barks for making such copies, but backed away from the bad publicity the move generated. Bob Kane, known for his involvement in the creation of Batman, also used to sell paintings of Batman, without being sued. Thus Sharon Moody’s lawyers would have a potential rebuttal, that an artistic, single use has a pattern of being tolerated by the rights owners.

I could share plenty more interesting comments, but instead, now that 48 hours have gone by since my original post, I’d like to recap here a few additional thoughts in response to those who have come to Moody’s defense, and not just leave them scattered across the Internet. (more…)

Everything I know about the timeline of the microwave—which isn’t much—I learned from Wikipedia.

Date #1 to keep in mind: “The specific heating effect of a beam of high-power microwaves was discovered accidentally in 1945 … ” (I did know it was an accidental discovery, though not the year.)

Date #2 to note: “The use of high-frequency electric fields for heating dielectric materials had been proposed in 1934 … ”

If that’s the case, then how is it that the following article appeared in the February 1, 1931 issue of the New York Times, reporting that “cooking by means of electric waves was demonstrated here yesterday on a machine which produced a nicely prepared steak in five minutes” and that “the apparatus consists of an enamelled [sic] box about the size of a radio receiver which contains an ordinary high frequency machine”?

Is there something I’m not getting here because I’m scientifically illiterate? Wasn’t what happened in 1931—”cooking by means of electric waves” in “an enamelled box”—a microwave oven?

Educate me, all you big brains out there!

I was reading the December 12 issue of the New York Observer when I spotted something that irked me.

Now understand, finding something in the Observer that offends me isn’t at all unusual. Not an issue goes by when I don’t discover something to offend me in the salmon-colored pages of this snide, smarmy rag, which encapsulates just about everything I dislike about New York. It’s a publication for the 1%. When I think of its intended readership, what comes to mind is that picture going around of champagne-swilling bankers smirking while looking down at Occupy protesters from a restaurant terrace.

And to answer your unasked question—which I assume would be, “Well, then why did you subscribe?”—my subscription was entirely accidental. I had expiring air miles—from Delta, I think—and used them to sign on for a bunch of magazines and newspapers. I’d never read the New York Observer before then, and once the issues started arriving and I saw what I’d gotten myself into, I looked forward to the sub ending so I wouldn’t be tortured by its worldview. I’d read each issue while metaphorically holding my nose, doing my best to treat it as an anthropological study of a zeitgeist I despise.

And now that I’ve gotten that rant out of my system …

What was it in particular that I suddenly felt a need to bring to your attention? Something I saw in a half page ad for the Bernarducci Meisel Gallery. It offered for sale a single painting: “Mjolnir—To Thy Master!”

Take a look for yourself.

The artist’s name was … Jack Kirby, right? Wrong. It’s the work of an artist named Sharon Moody, and Kirby’s name was nowhere to be seen. I investigated a little further, and discovered other similar paintings. (more…)

I’m way behind on Boardwalk Empire, having only seen four of the second season’s twelve episodes, which means I’ve been dodging spoilers like crazy since Sunday’s finale … and often not dodging them very well. I’ve already learned a couple of things I wish I hadn’t.

But one thing I didn’t mind knowing in advance was that I’d eventually see my high school pal Bill Forsythe—with whom I’d acted in Fiorello—in half a dozen episodes as a character named Manny Horvitz.

I haven’t spoken to Bill since he was costarring in the TV series John Doe a decade ago, which I told you about back in 2008. I wrote a sidebar to SCI FI magazine‘s piece on the show, though what tickled me most wasn’t the sidebar but the sidebar to the sidebar which used our high school yearbook photos.

(more…)

I always figured that the first time I ate quail, it would happen because I’d spotted it on the menu at a restaurant I trusted to do the tiny things up right. Instead, my first time came about because while I was at A & H Seafood buying a suckling pig to cook for Christmas dinner, I peeked into their freezer and spotted packages of frozen quail. And since I’m not one to pass up the opportunity for a new culinary experience, I picked up two packages.

Why not just one? If you have to ask, you must not know me very well.

Each package contained six quail, and they weren’t very impressive when frozen. Squashed together as they were, they looked like nothing more than a solid lump of frozen meat, giving no sense of what they once were.

But after a few days of thawing, each quail—weighing in at about 4.66 ounces, if the gross weight of the package can be trusted—because a bird again. And looked kind of cute, if you ask me.

I plucked a recipe from my all-time favorite cookbook—James Beard’s American Cookery, which is so well-written that it’s worth reading even if you have no intention of ever cooking anything.

I chose the simplest recipe, not because I wasn’t up to a challenge, but because I wanted to taste the quail meat itself as purely as possible, unmasked by too heavy a sauce or too flavorful a spice. So after some butter, salt, pepper, and little else, plus 20 minutes in a 450-degree oven, here’s what I ended up with. (more…)

I only had a chance to make a single submission to Hardware, which billed itself as “The Magazine of Technophilia.” I apparently ran out of time to make further submissions, because I now see that Hardware only published two issues.

I remember very little about the magazine, but it must have been a decent market, because I see it published contributions by Paul Di Filippo, Robert Frazier, Bruce Boston, Jonathan V. Post, and other names you’d recognize.

All I ever sent editor Jimm Gall was one poem titled “Friends,” no copy of which currently exists. The rejection slip below is all that remains.

The last time I saw Jerry Robinson—who created The Joker and suggested that Batman’s sidekick should be named Robin—was in July at the San Diego Comic-Con. He was in Artists Alley, surrounded by admirers. I unfortunately had work to do, with no spare time to wait in a line, so we didn’t get to speak. But he looked happy, and I was glad to see he wasn’t being ignored. Luckily, that happens a lot in both science fiction and comics—our elders, our living treasures, are often swarmed.

The last time I had a substantial conversation with Robinson, however, was in 2008, also at the San Diego Comic-Con. And one of the things I did during that conversation—without meaning to, I assure you—was make him feel old, by telling him about the first time we’d met—on January 5, 1972.

If you’re a comics fan of a certain age, that date will have meaning for you. If not, let this refresh your memory …

Robinson wasn’t there to be part of the show. Instead, he was in the audience, likely looking forward to a relaxing evening with his peers watching the Marvel Bullpen crack themselves up on stage. Until the annoying 16-year-old that was me came along to mess up his plans. I assume I recognized him from one of the two comic conventions I’d been to previously—the 1970 and 1971 Phil Seuling July 4th weekend cons—and so I came forward, thrusting my sketchpad and marker toward him. (more…)

A new month has begun, so as usual, it’s time to gather together my dream tweets of the previous month to see whether they gain any added value from rubbing up against each other. Guest starring in November were celebrities I’ve never met, such as Steve Tyler, Mandy Patinkin, Heather Morrison, and John Goodman, plus friends like Geoff Landis, Cory Doctorow, Stan Robinson and Mary Robinette Kowal.

And who knows? Maybe you, too.

Check out what my subconscious delivered.

NOVEMBER 2011

I dreamt I was a Revolutionary War artist, advising a promising young woman. A flash forward revealed she would become great and famous. 30 Nov

I dreamt we were house hunting, and found a lovely place to live, except for the fact there weren’t enough outlets, which was disappointing. 30 Nov

I dreamt I was being held hostage until a sonic bomb went off that blew out the eardrums of my captors without affecting me, and I escaped. 30 Nov

I lost a dream because I no longer know what this middle-of-the-night note means: “too many smokers unlivable—cross street [illegible]” 29 Nov

I dreamt my son and I performed parkour on an alien world, eventually ending up by a replicator so massive it was used to create spaceships. 29 Nov

I dreamt my father and I were in China surrounded by pyramids of dim sum. He seemed tired, so I offered to serve him, but he helped himself. 29 Nov

I dreamt my name popped up on several suspicious persons lists, and I was being hunted by (and successfully eluding) Mandy Patinkin in NYC. 29 Nov

I dreamt Geoff Landis was visiting, rehearsing his presentation for a patent application he needed to make in person. And I gave him tips. 28 Nov

I dreamt I ran into Walter Jon Williams, then saw Stan Robinson and Melinda Snodgrass. “Is there a con going on I don’t know about?” I said. 28 Nov

I dreamt I found a gumball machine into which I could insert a huge Mercury Head dime and get two or one or none in return. I won 50 cents! 28 Nov (more…)

I had a 10:30 appointment yesterday over in Maryland to meet with—well, never you mind—and unfortunately, a rock slide prevented me from getting there in time. Oh, don’t worry, no Harpers Ferry boulders got me! But a tractor trailer wasn’t so lucky. It apparently swerved to avoid a rock slide and went through a guardrail on Route 340 near Harpers Ferry between the Potomac River bridge and the Shenandoah River bridge—cutting me off from getting over to Maryland.

I was at a dead stop for more than 90 minutes. When the rubble was cleared, traffic finally started moving again, and I caught up with the scene of the crash, here’s what I saw.

I’d have slowed for better video, but I had an idea that neither the police nor the frustrated drivers behind me would have been happy about that!

I arrived in Maryland MUCH later than I should have … but that’s a whole ‘nother story.

After taking care of business (or rather, learning that I’d arrived much too late to properly take care of business), I decided to try out Kraze Burgers, a Korean hamburger chain which had just opened its first location in the U.S., a fact I’d learned from a recent article in the Huffington Post. I was wondering how it would compare to Reno’s Awful Awful burgers or my all-time favorite, the Thurman burger. (more…)