Give your Idols a Break

Don't meet your heros. I've heard this adage before but I don't know who said it. There should be a corollary--don't ask your hero for feedback on your portfolio.

When I was fifteen I begged my Mom to take me to the local comic store because the comic artist I admired most would be there--Wendy Pini. I was full on star struck. I wasn't allowed to go to events like ComicCon and the only had the people I had to share my enthusiasm with (mostly adults) were the ones who hung out at Comics and Fantasies in San Jose. I had been reading Wendy's Elfquest series and was in LOVE with it. It was the only comic I had come across that had such an intelligent story line as well as beautiful, other worldly drawings. It was a huge departure from the over inked, generic 80s style used to draw most Marvel and DC titles.

I slavishly read and reread the books, read every article I could about Wendy's career, the comic and anything else I could find. I collected everything I could find about the series which was precious little unless it was an article on the evolution of Wendy's early work on trying to animate the Elric series to the art she used to depict the saga off the Wolf Riders. Fortunately I had no access to B-Boards or chat rooms because I know I would never get anything done.

When I saw the sign in the window of Comics and Fantasies that Wendy Pini was going to be there I couldn't believe my good luck! This would completely round out my worship of all things Elfquest. For me this was as big as getting back stage passes to a Prince concert for my more "normal" peers.

I came well prepared. I brought my copy of the Comics Journal that had Elfquest as the cover story for her to sign as well as my Elfquest tee-shirt. I also brought my collection of drawings. I wanted to share them with her and get her thoughts. I had not idea how badly this would go.

First off, she nearly refused to sign my tee-shirt (not sure why but she said she had a rule about it). She did eventually sign it because I begged HARD and claimed to be her biggest fan. She said I probably wasn't but I assured her she was wrong on this point. By then the small crowd of fellow dorks were shifting around looking uncomfortable because my nerdishness was causing a serious scene. She was kind of done with me but I couldn't leave without her seeing my drawings. She said she never looked at fan art but when I went into the same routine (biggest fan) she sighed and looked through them. She flipped the pages half heartedly and said I had some "rough" talent and that I needed to work on how my hands looked (its true--the hands I made looked tortured).

In a ridiculous Freudian slip I stammered "that hurts I mean helps". She looked even more uncomfortable and started restating about how she doesn't look at fan art for this reason. I shlumped away (much to every-ones' relief I'm sure). I got some "I told you so" in the car from Mom who thought my mission was utterly idiotic and why the hell was her daughter reading this crap anyway when she had homework to do?

I guess when you get the chance to meet someone you admire (someone who has never met you in your whole life and has no idea of your existence) you can get this bizarre out sized notion that they might want to meet you too.

Now, I was fifteen and fifteen year-olds  have no sense but lots of feeling. I felt embarrassed because I somehow (in a sea of adults who had nothing better to do than go to a comic book store in the middle of the day) felt like such a complete moron for wearing my heart on my sleeve. My drawings were personal (if still "rough"). My affection and adoration for her as an artist (and the person I imagined her to be) were also personal (and sincere). But what I didn't understand was what she might have been going through to be there. I have no idea how many psychos she had to fend off before I showed up. She might have been tired. She might seriously hate meeting strangers. She might have had to deal with someone just like me before and had it end even worse. All that aside, at the time, the experience really sucked (probably for both of us).

This is what I'd like to say to my fifteen year old self.

Hey, Wendy might not know how to help you but its cool. Advice and feedback are a different kind of art form--not everyone knows how to give it. We expect a lot from the people we idolize. Just because you want to connect with them doesn't mean they have the ability to connect with you. What they are good at is doing the thing you admire--unfortunately that might be all they have to offer...making more of that thing you really like. They might not even be comfortable with your admiration because they labor under their own self criticism (who knows...if only we could have perfect insight into the minds of others). Lines of fans pushing things in front of them to sign or asking for them to look at their portfolio--I can see how daunting that would be for a person who spends their time perfecting their specific craft but not the art of meeting the public. It wasn't personal. She probably gave you what she had to give right then. Keep drawing--keep working on your hands.

I didn't stop drawing. I wore my hard won teeshirt as often as I could--until it was full of holes actually. I lent out my copies of EQ out to people who I knew would like the story. I read the series until the storyline (now called The Grand Quest) was wrapped up. After that I didn't read many comic books. Years later I was surprised to see that the series rebooted in several forms and currently is a weekly offering on BoingBoing. It's awesome--you should check it out.