Tuesday, May 6, 2014
The Power of Peanuts
I must admit, that I wouldn't mind a legacy of sorts. I have always wanted to produce something with my art in whatever medium that people will still be enjoying decades later. I want to make classic stuff, timeless stuff. Classics exist in all mediums, and I am rife with opinions and theories about what constitutes a classic. I submit to you that nobody will be watching South Park 50 years from now, but my kids love Looney Tunes even though they were made 60 or 70 years before they were born. 'Calvin and Hobbes' is still a source of delight , while nobody re-reads 'Doonesbury'. People are still playing Mozart, but nobody will be listening to 'Hollaback Girl' 300 years from now. Why is that? What makes some things last, and other things rot? I have three things, in no particular order that I think determine a classic.
Quality
The life of Charles "Sparky" Schultz of 'Peanuts' fame always fascinated me. If you read about his life you realize that he really was Charlie Brown in a lot of ways. He was a self-effacing loner who married the little red-headed girl. While a celebrity of sorts, he retained a listed phone number until the day he died. He never got away from the basics. The basics for him, was the strip itself. The strip drove everything else. Even when he was overseeing a billion dollar empire of merchandising, he would go every day, sit at his drawing board, and draw. The strip was the point, not the plushies and t-shirts and Snoopy dolls. 360 or so days a year, day in and day out for over 40 years, he sat down at his drawing board and cranked out the most iconic comic strip of all time.
If you go through his work, one of the things that really strikes you is the consistency of it. With Peanuts there really isn't any 'this used to be better'. Schultz cranked out consistent plodding quality just like the Midwestern work horse that he was. While some of us, myself included, work sporadically and the quality of our work varies from day to day, Peanuts is pretty much just as good any on any given day as it is on any other given day. And it's still good, decades after it was produced. Even the TV specials hold this odd nostalgic place in people's hearts because the heart of Charles Schultz beats right there in the center of it. It's good because, well, it's good.
Symbology
I read somewhere years ago in an interview that, according to Schultz, he did the same 12 things over and over again. That is to say, there were 12 physical items in the Peanuts universe that he used over and over again. Those items, some of them tied inherently to the characters, were both the platform and the wellspring of all Peanuts action. I don't remember the whole list, but I'll bet if you just stop and think for a second, you can come up with the list on your own. Let's see...Snoopy's doghouse, the kite-eating tree, Linus' blanket, Schroeder's piano, Lucy's psychiatrist office, Charlie Brown's football, the pitcher's mound..you see? Occasionally, back in my political cartoon days, I would steal ( also known as 'paying homage') one of these items for my own cartoons. I drew Lucy's psychiatric booth to illustrate a point or showed Charlie Brown trying to kick the football. These consistently became the most popular cartoons because everyone knew what I was trying to say. Everybody knows that Charlie Brown running towards the football is an exercise in futility or an example of betrayal. The term 'security blanket' doesn't even show up in the English language until Peanuts! That's the power of symbology in art, and it's a huge factor in making something timeless and classic.
I've also heard Matt Groening say that when he designed the Simpsons, he purposefully designed them to where their silhouettes would be instantly recognizable because all iconic carton characters have recognizable silhouettes. Think about that. Picture Bugs Bunny in your mind. Now picture Bugs Bunny's silhouette. It's still obvious who he is, isn't it? Symbology or iconography is one of those things that goes beyond linguistic boundaries into something else. Now I still think the jury is out on whether or not The Simpsons will still be enjoyed decades from now, ( I tend to think that it's going to seem a bit dated as the years roll on, because hipness has a shelf-life) but at least Groening was thinking ahead.
Intent
Symbology and iconography help make something a classic, but the intent of the creator I think, plays a role The only reason anyone would sit down and watch 'Masters of the Universe' or 'Thundercats' now is either because of nostalgia or because they don't know any better. It's purpose (besides being a 23 minute commercial for the toys) was consumption. You were supposed to sit down, consume it and then get up, presumably to go to the toy store. The intention was never to make anything of lasting value. Mission accomplished. Now that's not bad or wrong in itself. I mean, even Shakespeare was , at some level, a guy just trying to pay the rent, but what is your intent when you create? You cannot separate the art from the artist, and who you are, and what your scope is will reflect itself in what you produce.
Now let me diverge a bit from the point of this and point out that almost everything our culture produces as far as entertainment goes is produced for the purpose of consumption. It's made, you eat it, and pretty soon it's time for another meal. The song on the radio gets put out, played until you are sick of it and then replaced with another song. The movie that is a must-see today will be pushed down the assembly line of our consciousness and replaced with something else that you 'must see'. That mentality has it's own issues, which I won't get into today, except to say that very few classics are being made now because , well, almost nobody is trying.
If I had my druthers, I'd rather make a little less money (although I promise you I am not allergic to money) and make something that my great grandkids can still enjoy than to crank out a lot of profitable fluff that nobody will care about 18 months later. Maybe it's just me. And Charles Schultz. And Bill Watterson. And Mozart. And Chuck Jones. And Shakespeare.
Actually, that's a pretty good group to aspire to be in, don't you think?
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