Go Home Paddy

I am working on a linked list of the websites of artists and writers who I fell are worthy of your consideration. Since it’s not quite done yet, I want to draw your attention to John A. Walsh’s excellent Go Home Paddy right now, because he is in the last week of a successful Kickstarter campaign, so time is a factor. (I know, how long does it take to make a list? But cut me some slack, OK?) I’ll let John describe his graphic novel:

Heartbreaking, thought provoking and ultimately uplifting, this unique narrative incorporates historical details such as the Great Hunger, the rise of the Know-Nothings, Victorian prejudices and the Great Boston Fire of 1872. GO HOME PADDY is also timely as it examines the role of immigration, race relations and religion in American society — hot political topics of today. GO HOME PADDY, a graphic novel of approximately 150 pages, is illustrated using the Victorian simian stereotype of the Irish.


John is a fantastic Boston artist doing great historical comics about the Boston Irish. You should read Go Home Paddy, then drop something in the collection plate if you can.

Machiavelli and the Economy of Violence

The New Inquiry has a fascinating dialogue on the role of the reactionary in conservatism, featuring Corey Robin, author of The Reactionary Mind: Conservatism From Edmund Burke to Sarah Palin, and Daniel Larison, writer and editor at the American Conservative. Corey Robin’s thesis is that a central goal of conservatism is “to defend power and privilege against movements demanding freedom and equality.” Larison objects, and the dialogue goes from there. The entire piece is worth reading. There are a lot of interesting points made about conservatism in a historical context, the relationship between conservatism and nationalism, and conservatism as a counterrevolutionary force. But what really caught my eye was this: Robin writes

I don’t think the right has by any means a monopoly on the discourse of violence; the left has its own long tradition of reflection on violence. But where the left’s discourse is primarily influenced by Machiavelli — that is, an awareness of what Sheldon Wolin calls “the economy of violence,” or the necessity of instrumentalizing violence, of making a very little go a long, long way — the right’s attitude is reflected in Burke’s moral psychology, particularly his theory of the sublime.

Here’s what Robin is referring to when he cites Wolin:

In evaluating Machiavelli’s economy of violence it is easy to criticize it as being the product of a technician’s admiration for efficient means. A century like ours, which has witnessed the unparalleled efficiency displayed by totalitarian regimes in the use of terror and coercion, experiences difficulty in being tolerant on the subject. Yet to see Machiavelli as the philosopher of Himmlerism would be quite misleading; and the basic reason is not alone that Machiavelli regarded the science of violence as the means for reducing the amount of suffering in the political condition, but that he was clearly aware of the dangers of entrusting its use to the morally obtuse. What he hoped to further by his economy of violence was the “pure” use of power, undefiled by pride, ambition, or motives of petty revenge.

A more meaningful contrast to Machiavelli would be the great modern theoretician of violence, Georges Sorel. Here is a true example of the irresponsible political individual, fired by romantic notions of heroism, preaching the use of violence for ends which are deliberately and proudly clothed in the vague outline of the irrational “myth,” contemptuous of the cost, blinded by a vision of virile proletarian barbarians who would revitalize the decadent West. In contrast, there was no hint of child-like delight when Machiavelli contemplated the barbarous and savage destructiveness of the new prince, sweeping away the settled arrangements of society and “leaving nothing intact.” There was, however, the laconic remark that it was better to be a private citizen than to embark on a career which involved the ruin of men. This suggest that the theorist like Machiavelli, who was aware of the limited efficacy of force and who devoted himself to showing how its technique could be used more efficiently, was far more sensitive to the moral dilemmas of politics and far more committed to the preservation of man than those theorists who, saturated with moral indignation and eager for heroic regeneration, preach purification by the holy flame of violence.

—Sheldon S. Wolin, Politics and Vision: Continuity and Innovation in Western Political Thought, Princeton, 1960

Robin continues:

I think that the primary audience for violence on the right is the perpetrator and/or his/her allies. In other words, the right sees violence as primarily a source of rejuvenation among a ruling class that has gone soft. That’s what is so interesting to me, in part because it completely inverts the standard stereotype we have of the conservative being more hard-headed and realistic than the progressive. If anything — and I really assign no normative weight to this; it’s more interesting to me as an intellectual problem — it is the left, as I’ve suggested, that has been more influenced by realist modes of thinking when it comes to violence.

I think it is very important to stress that Machiavelli did not see virtue in violence or in subterfuge, as is commonly believed today (e.g. “Machiavellian”). I especially like using Sorel as a counterpoint to Machiavelli, the differences between the one who sees violence as a necessary evil to preserve the stability and viability of the state and one who views violence as an invigorating instance of the heroic ideal in society, in which the exercise of violence is an end unto itself: a way to get society’s blood flowing again, literally and figuratively.

My Punch Clock Time Card

So. I made this. I find that if I don’t keep track of where my time is going, I tend to find myself wondering at 11:30pm where the evening went. I used to just keep track on a sheet of notebook paper, but I figured I could have some fun with it. I based it on some vintage punch clock time cards I found on the internet, with my own modifications.


“Motivation follows action” is my own little motto, which I may have picked up somewhere else and appropriated, so I make no claims of ownership. The “You are your own timekeeper” admonition is from the original punch card I based my design on and it’s just too awesome not to use.

Basically, I print them out and note the time I start working and when I am taking breaks. I don’t really have a specific goal of how much time I need to work in a day; it’s a system for mindfulness of how I’m spending my my time, not for accountability. If I write down the time before going off to check e-mail, Twitter, or RSS, I’m much more likely to get back to drawing (or researching, or working on the site) in a timely fashion. If I’m not paying attention, my “15 minute” Internet break just turns into an hour or more before I’m aware of it.

I know there are applications and services which do the same thing, but I’m a pencil and paper kind of person. We all have our eccentricities.

note: the “morning afternoon night” headers are elements carried over from the original. Since I do all my artwork at night, it’s really just a way of splitting time between breaks. But the time of day has a nice feel to it and reinforces the punch card idiom, so I kept it.

Eraser Stamp Experiment

The original sketch:


First stamp:


First stamp refined:


Sketch for second stamp, with pencil indicating changes I wanted to make:


Second stamp, which I made by printing the first stamp onto a fresh eraser as a guide. Do you see my error?


Second stamp, finished. There will be another iteration of this, less incompetently executed, I hope.

The actual size of the stamp is about 1″ x 1.5″, the ink is Japanese stamping paste. The fish is a coelacanth, inspired by a set of pen & ink drawings I did a couple of years ago based on the idea of a tutelary genius.

O for a Muse of Fire

It all started with an essay by Elizabeth Bachner on the nature of genius and the mysticism of art. She points out that “Genius is not, etymologically speaking, a trait, like prettiness or stupidity or discretion. Genii, in the Roman tradition, are spirits that enter a man’s body at his birth and leave at his death.” Bachner is dismayed by what she perceives as an anti-genius bias in today’s society. But it was her mention of the Roman genius that got me thinking. Thinking about the nature of inspiration and the realities of turning that inspiration into finished work and not just hopes for the future.

Part of the role of the tutelary genius was to guard, if not actually determine, a person’s character; thus, in the sixteenth century genius came to be used in direct reference to a person’s inclination or bent of mind, as in Sir Philip Sidney’s Defence of Poetry (1595): “A Poet, no industrie can make, if his owne Genius bee not carried vnto it.” In the next century this led to the sense of ‘a strongly marked aptitude.’ This sense of genius was often used of poets and artists, and in England in the eighteenth century the Romantics began to use genius to mean ‘an extraordinary native intellectual power,’ especially as manifested in an unusual capacity for creative activity of any kind.

—from The Merriam-Webster New Book of Word Histories

There’s a misconception that says that in order to do your best work, you should only work when the spirit seizes you. It’s an old Romantic notion, and not really subscribed to by many who do creative work seriously. If we only worked when we really felt like it, we wouldn’t get anything done (I discovered this through hard experience.) Art involves a lot of hard work and unglamorous dedication. To succeed, you need to make (and keep) good working habits and keep at it even when your artwork feels like, well, work. Keeping habits, being productive, it doesn’t exactly sound like Shakespeare’s muse of fire, does it? But it’s critical.

The problem is, the rejection of the Romantic notion leads some too far in the opposite direction: that you need not a muse of fire, but to “fire your muse:” buckle down and Get Things Done. Get productive and start working and forget that mystical happy talk about muses and inspiration and geniuses. But in that case, why make art at all? God knows, it’s a damned impractical thing to be doing in the first place. Without the inspiration, the genius, the muse, well, what’s the point of making art? You’re much better off being a lawyer. Unless, of course, there is something in you that is demanding that you create and just won’t shut up about it, like the Romans’ tutelary genius. The truth of it is that you need both to thrive. Art is a calling and it’s not foolishness to call it that. But it also requires showing up and working every day: your genius will come, but it usually finds you when you’re working.


note: Originally posted in 2009, this essay got lost when I transferred to WordPress and redesigned the site (thank you, Wayback Machine!) It was brought to mind again when I was creating my eraser stamps. I have little to add except that I actually agree with everything Merlin Mann wrote in the essay linked in the final paragraph, except for the firing muses part. I like the idea of muses.

Exotic New Facts from Ennet House

Posted: October 23, Year of the Depend Adult Undergarment

If you ever chance to spend a little time around a substance-recovery halfway facility like Enfield MA’s state-funded Ennet House, you will encounter many exotic new facts.

That you do not have to like a person to learn from him/her/it.

That loneliness is not a function of solitude.

That logical validity is not a guarantee of truth.

That no matter how smart you thought you were, you are actually way less smart than that.

That it takes effort to pay attention to any one stimulus for more than a few seconds.

That boring activities become, perversely, much less boring if you concentrate intently on them.

That you will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realize how seldom they do.

That concentrating intently on anything is very hard work.

That a clean room feels better to be in than a dirty room.

That other people can often see things about you that you yourself cannot see, even if those people are stupid.

That having a lot of money does not immunize people from suffering or fear.

From David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest.

Notes on the Making of an Expert

Notes on The Making of an Expert, by K. Anders Ericsson, Michael J. Prietula, and Edward T. Cokely. Harvard Business Review, July/August 2007

All the superb performers [benjamin Bloom] investigated had practiced intensively, had studied with devoted teachers, and had been supported enthusiastically by their families though their developing years.

1. Intensive, deliberate practice
2. Devoted teachers
3. Family support

The amount and quality of practice were key factors in the level of expertise people achieved.

The journey to truly superior performance is neither for the faint of heart nor for the impatient. The development of genuine expertise requires struggle, sacrifice, and honest, often painful self assessment. There are no shortcuts. It will take you at least a decade to achieve expertise, and you will need to invest that time wisely, by engaging in “deliberate” practice—practice that focuses on tasks beyond your current level of competence and comfort. You will need a well-informed coach not only to guide you through deliberate practice, but also to help you learn how to coach yourself. Above all … forget the folklore about genius that makes many people think they cannot take a scientific approach to developing expertise.

Real expertise must pass three tests. First, it must lead to work that is consistently superior to that of the expert’s peers. Second, real expertise produces concrete results…. Finally, true expertise can be replicated and measured in the lab. As the British scientist Lord Kelvin stated, “if you can not measure it, you can not improve it.”

Deliberate Practice

Not all practice makes perfect. You need a particular kind of practice—deliberate practice—to develop expertise. When most people practice, they focus on things they already know how to do. Deliberate practice is different. It entails considerable, specific, and sustained efforts to do something you *can’t* do well—or even at all. Research across domains shows that it is only by working at what you can’t do that you turn into the expert you want to become.

Deliberate practice involves two kinds of learning: improving the skills you already have and extending the reach and range of your skills…. The famous violinist Nathan Milstein wrote: “Practice as much as you feel you can accomplish with concentration. Once when I became concerned because others around me practiced all day long, I asked [my mentor] Professor Auer how many hours I should practice, and he said, ‘it really doesn’t matter how long. If you practice with your fingers, no amount is enough. If you practice with your head, two hours is plenty.”

[V]ery few appear to be able to engage in more than four or five hours of high concentration and deliberate practice at a time.

Ivan Galamian: “If we analyze the development of the well-known artists, we see that in almost every case the success of their entire career was dependent on the quality of their practicing. In practically every case, the practicing was constantly supervised either by their teacher or an assistant to the teacher.”

The development of expertise requires coaches who are capable of giving constructive, even painful, feedback. Real experts are extremely motivated student who seek out such feedback. They’re also skilled at understanding when and if a coach’s advice doesn’t work for them. The elite performers we studied knew what they were doing right and concentrated on what they were doing wrong. They deliberately picked unsentimental coaches who would challenge them and drive them to higher levels of performance. The best coaches also identify aspects of your performance that will need to be improved at your next level of skill.

The key to improving expertise is consistence and fully controlled efforts.

Rules for Creators with Small Audiences

A guide for the emerging comics artist or how to behave on the Internet w/r/t social media.

Don’t take your readership for granted

Small readership defined: If your Twitter and Facebook followers could easily fit inside a college auditorium, that’s a small readership. If this describes your audience, you have time to respond to any personal messages. See also internet famous1.

It literally takes ten seconds to respond to a complimentary post on Twitter or to “like” a Facebook comment or post that someone has written about you. Seriously. If you get ten compliments a day in your platforms of choice, that’s five minutes out of your day to respond with a simple thank you to all of them. It’s not too much to ask.

Case Study

September 23, 2011: Thorne posts “Morning ‘Verse.” then @ replies to five people who complimented his work in the past day. Total time elapsed: 2 minutes.

Saying thank you is nice


If you can’t be bothered to do that, I’ve got no sympathy for you. Neither you nor I is Lady Gaga. We are not people who get more messages than any one person could possibly respond to. At that point, your relationship with your audience must change, but you’re not there yet. If it does take you more than fifteen minutes a day to respond to readers, then you may indeed be at that reevaluation point.

As an artist, dedication to your craft and making great work is your first priority. But I am going to posit that respect for your readership is a close second. If you have an Internet presence and a readership, that respect means that social norms of politeness are not just things you discard when you get behind the keyboard.

And Action

Take fifteen minutes each day to respond to readers. You may not need that much time. You may need more. If you are getting more mentions than you can respond to in that time, I would say take the fifteen minutes anyway and do what you can. If you’re getting that much attention, your readership will probably understand that you can’t get to everyone. Similarly, if you get linked by a major site, you’ll get overwhelmed for a time. Take your time and work through the backlog. If you thank someone three days after a major traffic spike, they should understand.

Art is the intersection between artist, object, and spectator. The audience plays a crucial role in your work. Don’t forget that. Without your readers, you’re just a person in a room with a stack of papers.

1: The next stage up.