Sketch Fridays #43 – Dee Snider

Aug11
by on 11 August 2017

Sketch Friday #43 – Dee Snider.

Dee Snider is one of the most important people in my life. Specifically, his time with his ’80s heavy metal band, Twisted Sister, made such an impact on my developing young mind that I tend to not share my love for them and their music because I feel it was music made specifically for me and other people wouldn’t understand. Simply because of my anachronistic appreciation, I’m not totally wrong.

In fairness, my appreciation of the band was anachronistic from the start. I found them––with friend and fellow artist, Josh Tobey––when I was thirteen years-old in the summer of 1994. Josh had found, on the side of a dirt road in the rural areas of Nipomo, CA, a paper shopping bag full of cassette tapes minus any defining cases or liner notes. We spent the afternoon playing games on the Nintendo Entertainment System––on Josh’s trusty, tiny black-and-white tv––listening to tape after tape. Furthermore, we listened to the tapes at faster speed than normal. We found we could lean this heavy teddy bear on the fast-forward button of the cassette player while a tape was playing, which made every tape sound like Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Figure drawing for this week’s Sketch Friday.

In the bag was Twisted Sister’s third album, Stay Hungry, their 1984 breakthrough album with the MTV hits, “We’re Not Gonna Take It” and “I Wanna Rock.” By ’94, the band had been broken up for seven years, though most had not heard about that band since 1985 when Dee Snider spoke to the Senate to defend free speech in music from censorship. Despite releasing one album after that, it tanked and the band called it quits, as Dee Snider has said, with a whimper rather than a roar. But, again, they were merely a cassette tape in a bag with dozens of others. So, for a long while, I had no idea what they looked like or even when they were doing their work. All I had was the sound and the words sung by Mr. Snider. From those I shaped an opinion and, ultimately, a devotion.

But how the band ended didn’t matter to me. Their album was just a tape in a bag and was meant to be a means to laugh through the afternoon. And it was until we hit the second to last song on the album, called “The Beast.” It’s a song propelled by a chugging, droning riff that mimics a wolf’s steady stride pursuing prey through a forest. It was confident, predatory, and decidedly metal––a sound and attitude that spoke to my teenage ears.

“The Beast” is a song of horror-infused metaphor and minor-key melodramatics. As soon as it ended, Josh and I broke away from whatever video game we were playing and stared at each other, the power of the song, even at 2x speed, hooked us and, for the first time, we stopped the tape and rewound it to hear the song again.

Dee Snider with Dio. Probably from 1983 or early ’84. Photographer likely Fin Costello.

It marked the beginning of my love for the band. It started completely from a superficial fascination and developed into a nigh-spiritual battle cry that, to this day, informs everything I think, do, and believe. Dee Snider is best described as my “spirit animal.” His tenacity and ferocity underpin my natural reserve and personality. When I break out from my hesitancy, it is under the guidance of “What would Dee Snider do?” Not because he is a religious figure (he’s not), not because he’s the world’s greatest artist (he’s not). It was his voice that first said to me, “It’s okay to be you. No matter what. Forget what anybody else says or decrees. You’re different, and that’s okay. Because you’re one of us.” Such a simple message––spoken through songs like “We’re Not Gonna Take It”, “Don’t Let Me Down”, or “SMF” from Stay Hungry––meant the world to me and got my mind out of a pretty dark place and guided me when I needed guidance most. This is not only the case when I was thirteen, but at various points as I aged and continues to be the baseline I fall back to today.

Despite being a gregarious loudmouth, Dee and Twisted represented individuality in the face of conformity, especially in the mold of those who felt they weren’t able to conform despite their best efforts––a pretty good description of me in my teens. But he backed up his musical claims by taking it as far as testifying in front of the Senate in an articulate and sober argument with which anybody today would not disagree. His art means the world to me, but even more his adherence to principle above all else undoubtedly shaped everything I want to be, despite being almost ten years too late to his music.

I know many people may raise an eyebrow with this revelation, not seeing the pieces connect. While I’m not particularly gregarious or outspoken, this band and most importantly their message is the foundation for who I wanted to be and, I feel, who I became. For the following four weeks, I’ll be interpreting each member of this band in my style, reflecting their individual personality and showing, with hope, my appreciation with each drawing.

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Sketch Fridays #42 – Chapter 3 Preview

Aug04
by on 4 August 2017

Sketch Fridays #42 – Chapter 3 Preview (pencils and ink touch-ups: D. Bethel, Inks: Josh Tobey) Click to enlarge.

Mid-July was a fun month despite most of the time being spent in over 100-degree weather. As I mentioned on the website (in video format), July 15th was the inaugural Sac Indie Expo and it was a lot of fun. For me, the best part of it was that old friend and artist, Josh Tobey, came down to visit for the event (as well as to hang out) and it was a blast.

When we’re hanging out, Josh and I talk a lot. Like a lot. Mostly about art and creative goals and the like. He’s developing a comic project right now, so I’ve been doing my best to provide feedback and give encouragement at every turn because this project needs to happen (what I’ve seen so far is incredible). I remember at the show, we talked about Long John. I showed him what I’d done so far and some pages that weren’t yet inked. There are a few pages in the middle of the chapter that are basically just landscapes, and I mentioned how I was scared to death to ink them if only because I don’t feel fully confident enough to render them convincingly with brushes and pens. Give me faces and poses until the lights go out, I have no problem approaching them with the permanence of ink. But when it comes to natural settings, I still tense up, worried that I might get them wrong, somehow. I relayed those fears to Josh during one of our many conversations at the show, which guided things in a very interesting direction:

“Oh, man,” Josh said. “That’s the fun stuff to ink.”

“What.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to focus, really. Just filling in what needs to be filled in,” he said.

“Well, if that’s how you feel,” I said. “Why don’t you ink these pages, then?”

“I don’t know, man.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to mess with your style. You draw Long John very specifically,” Josh said.

“Well, then, I’ll ink him. You ink everything else,” I said.

“That sounds doable.”

I laughed it off. When we got home, we ended up watching a movie and just hanging out. But then Josh broke into the proceedings with a simple question.

“Hey, man. You want me to take a stab inking those pages?” he said.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Yeah, why not? It sounds like fun.”

Having learned to accept any help when offered, I bolted upstairs and grabbed the pages. We talked about what it should look like and went over the pencils a bit and then, for the first time in my life, I handed off my work for someone else to ink.

Though a bit tightened up later, this was basically what I handed Josh to ink. (click to enlarge)

I wasn’t scared to hand the pages over; I have complete faith in Josh’s abilities. I was worried that he would have to guess too much, that I hadn’t provided enough information or guidance and what I would get back would be Josh art and not an inked D. Bethel Long John page.

But the results look amazing. I came back about mid-way through and tightened up the inks on the horse and inked Long John, but with the rest he made exactly what I saw in my head (but better). Even though it looks like a skilled inker took up the brush and brought it to life (because one did), it’s still what I drew on the page. Since I ink my own stuff, I put down very loose pencils. What was comforting was to find that even my loose pencils can be enough to guide someone else with the inks. Albeit, someone who is very talented and has utmost confidence in his ability. I’m not saying I’m going to start divvying out inking duties, but it’s nice to know that, perhaps, that option remains open.

D. Bethel mostly inking Josh Tobey pencils of a medieval Katana & Venture adventure from 1995. We didn’t know official comic page sizes or anything, so it’s much wider than it should have been. The only time that I know of that we collaborated before.

More than anything, aside from a few instances in our youthful drawing days, Josh and I had never really made any art together. I shouldn’t be, but I was kind of surprised at how well we worked together. Less wanting to hire an inker, I now daydream a bit about not only making stories with Josh but specifically making art with him, which I had never really considered before.

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Interview with Finding Sacramento

Aug02
by on 2 August 2017

Click the image to listen to the interview.

In most places on the internet, I describe myself as “a simultaneous comicker and English teacher (doing his best to not screw up),” which is a frighteningly terse, but accurate, summary. Though that’s how I internalize my divided interests, when interacting with the world at large, I tend to be either one or the other. Generally, this makes sense; there isn’t much overlap between the two profiles aside from the fact that I do both. When at school, I think “drawing comics” is the fun fact people have memorized about me, so I can be distinguishable from others. When at cons or shows for Long John, “teaching English” is something that comes into conversation only when a potential patron asks if I make comics for a living. So, even I haven’t sewn a tight stitch between them. Even searching through this site, I’m sure you would only be able to find a few references to my day job.

To be honest, it’s a matter of persona or even cultural code-switching (as my academic profession calls it). While what I write at my podcast’s website, For All Intents and Purposes, exemplifies this attempt to smooth the seam between these two worlds pretty well, overall it is a difficult task to manage in a one-on-one conversation. I’m normally pretty shy and have learned that if I, for lack of a better word, take a moment to convince myself that––depending on the situation––I am a teacher or an independent comic creator, then that puts me in the right headspace to actually be conversational, engaging and, in extreme cases, charming.

I have to translate the quiet Dan Bethel into the “D. Bethel comicker” persona or, when at school, the “Professor Bethel” persona, when all I’m really doing is giving myself permission to be confident. From this description, it can seem that I’m just pretending to be someone else, which is not the case at all. It’s taking the time to recognize that I’m actually good at what I do and, in order to be functional, it is important for me to remember that. There are times at shows or in the classroom where I forget that and I get flustered, I stutter, I withdraw which, yes, may be the baseline Dan Bethel, but it’s not the “real” me. It is “a” me. A version of me. The one I’m always fighting against. The one that always holds me back.

However, tying the worlds of being a teacher and a comicker together is a goal I actively want to pursue even if it is a daunting task. I would say that the chances to try and do so––aside from producing written works for my own websites––are few. When being interviewed about my comic, it tends to just be about that world and the fact that I teach is something that comes up at the end to remind everybody that, yes, I am an amateur. But mostly the conversation is about comics and cartoons and movies and I do like that conversation a lot. But as is evident from this post so far, I relish at the chance to go deeper, to analyze, to make connections.

http://findingsacramento.com/index.php/2017/07/31/not-comic-book-creator-english-professor-dan-bethel/

At the beginning of June, I had the pleasure of being interviewed by Nathan Miller for his podcast, Finding Sacramento. His show attracted my attention because it’s different than a lot of other shows that interview creative types in that it doesn’t focus on nerdy, geeky stuff––which I love, don’t get me wrong, but I am also an academic and my interests within creativity extend beyond discussions of favorite X-Men stories or how DC movies are doing in comparison to Marvel’s.

Nathan’s usual guests are local business owners, entrepreneurs, and creatives outside of the nerdy-geeky realm; the linchpin that secures all these disparate guests is the city of Sacramento and how these people interact within it. It was through that lens that I really found my footing and I argue that as much time is spent talking about teaching in this interview as there is talk about the comic. This is an interview for people that don’t classify as “nerds” or “geeks” or fans of comics, though nerds and geeks can appreciate this interview, too.

I encourage everybody to click on the link above to listen to the interview through the Finding Sacramento website or download it through whatever podcasting service you use. Furthermore, I encourage everyone to listen through the archives of the show. Nathan is a sharp interviewer who does surprisingly thorough research which allows for substantive conversation instead of just superficial banter.

I’m glad that I get to add this interview to my archives because it’s a talk that I don’t think would otherwise have happened had I stuck to more traditional promotional avenues. Though I expected a thoughtful conversation, Nathan’s questions and his comfortable demeanor drove me to open up about things I haven’t really discussed before, but they go a long way to describe…well, everything. Listening to the result showed me that these different worlds don’t need stitching. It is not a quilt comprised of foreign fabrics. It is the depth of self-awareness and accepting (and exploiting) faults that makes many into one.

What holds everything together is something called “me.”

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