I couldn’t help myself.

I was initially drawn to this week’s New Yorker because of the cover. The issue is from 2014, but the cover art is “Untitled, Circa 1967” by Saul Steinberg. I myself am circa 1967, and that year shows up in almost every issue for one reason or another. It was a hot year. So a few months ago I started cutting out every “1967” I saw, and I’m collecting them for I-don’t-know-what. 

This issue also had plenty of visuals for me to work with, so it held a lot of promise. 

And then I read those words: “Freelance Whales.” That’s the name of a band I had never heard of because I’m not that hip. They’re an indie-pop group known for their eclectic mix of instruments, and they had recently released an album. I have since checked them out on Spotify, and they’re really cool.

But when I first read their name, I immediately started thinking about what a freelance whale might look like. I could have gone in an entirely different direction with all the images I had to work with. But I’m trying to honor my first impulses, so I kept coming back to “Freelance Whales.”

It was only two collages ago that Hattie the Hen came along, and I’m still so in love with her. I keep her out so I can look at her, and I brighten up every time I do. I had been thinking how fun it could be to do a companion piece or maybe a series of characters in the same style, if the opportunities and inspiration arise. 

So here we have Willie Whale. Will he wail when his client doesn’t pay the invoice on time? Will he wail when a potential client tries to get him to lower his rate? “Fast, good, cheap,” Willie says. “You can pick two.” Fueled by coffee, ruled by Apple.

In my house I am notorious for cracking my own self up. And this week, Willie is helping me with that. 

Obviously, I needed a little whimsy. Those who subscribe to my weekly emails (thank you!) already know that I took last week off to deal with some extra life stuff that was going on. (They also got three bonus cartoons!) I’m so glad I did. I mean, who’s grading me on this self-imposed art challenge anyway?

INNER CRITIC URSULA: I am.

ME: Thanks!

URSULA: You can count on me.

ME: Apparently. 

Actually, one of the many reasons I started this whole challenge was to deal with my perfectionist tendencies. They’ve been around a long time (—can I get an adult-child-of-an-alcoholic witness??) And I’ve come a long way, baby.

INNER CHEERLEADER JULES: Yes you have! High five!

ME: Up top!

But it still creeps in. And it is that tendency that for so many years has kept me from even attempting visual art. (Or writing. Or speaking up. Or…)

So what’s the big deal? My 52-week challenge is taking longer than 52 weeks. Collage 39 means I am exactly three-fourths of the way through. So, I’ll count my successes. 

And Ursula can bugger right off.

URSULA: I CAN HEAR YOU.

ME: Good.

THIS WEEK’S FEATURED CARTOON

In honor of the start of MLB spring training. (Didn’t baseball just end???)

READ PREVIOUS POST | READ NEXT POST