If you know more than a few milÂlenÂniÂals, you probÂaÂbly know someÂone who reveres Calvin and Hobbes as a sacred work of art. That comÂic strip’s culÂturÂal impact is even more remarkÂable conÂsidÂerÂing that it ran in newsÂpaÂpers for only a decade, from 1985 to 1995: bareÂly an exisÂtence at all, by the stanÂdards of the AmerÂiÂcan funÂny pages, where the likes of Garfield has been laziÂly crackÂing wise for 45 years now. Yet these two examÂples of the comÂic-strip form could hardÂly be more difÂferÂent from each othÂer in not just their duraÂtion, but also how they manÂiÂfest in the world. While Garfield has long been a marÂketÂing jugÂgerÂnaut, Calvin and Hobbes creÂator Bill WatÂterÂson has famousÂly turned down all licensÂing inquiries.
That choice set him apart from the othÂer sucÂcessÂful carÂtoonÂists of his time, not least Charles Schulz, whose work on Peanuts had inspired him to start drawÂing comics in the first place. Calvin and Hobbes may not have its own toys and lunchÂboxÂes, but it does reflect a SchulzÂian degree of thoughtÂfulÂness and perÂsonÂal dedÂiÂcaÂtion to the work. Like Schulz, WatÂterÂson eschewed delÂeÂgaÂtion, creÂatÂing the strip entireÂly by himÂself from beginÂning to end. Not only did he exeÂcute every brushÂstroke (not a metaphor, since he actuÂalÂly used a brush for more preÂcise line conÂtrol), every theme disÂcussed and expeÂriÂenced by the titÂuÂlar six-year-old boy and his tiger best friend was rootÂed in his own thoughts.
“One of the beauÂties of a comÂic strip is that peoÂple’s expecÂtaÂtions are nil,” WatÂterÂson said in an interÂview in the twenÂty-tens. “If you draw anyÂthing more subÂtle than a pie in the face, you’re conÂsidÂered a philosoÂpher.” HowÂevÂer modÂest the mediÂum, he spent the whole run of Calvin and Hobbes tryÂing to eleÂvate it, verÂbalÂly but even more so visuÂalÂly. Or perÂhaps the word is re-eleÂvate, givÂen how his increasÂingÂly ambiÂtious SunÂday-strip layÂouts evoked earÂly-twenÂtiÂeth-cenÂtuÂry newsÂpaÂper fixÂtures like LitÂtle Nemo and Krazy Kat, which sprawled lavÂishÂly across entire pages. Even if there could be no returnÂing to the bygone goldÂen age of the comÂic strip, he could at least draw inspiÂraÂtion from its gloÂries.
IronÂiÂcalÂly, from the perÂspecÂtive of the twenÂty-twenÂties, WatÂterÂsonÂ’s work looks like an artiÂfact of a bygone goldÂen age itself. In the eightÂies and nineties, when even small-town newsÂpaÂpers could still comÂmand a robust readÂerÂship, the comics secÂtion had a cerÂtain culÂturÂal weight; WatÂterÂson has spoÂken of the carÂtoonÂist’s pracÂtiÂcalÂly unmatched abilÂiÂty to influÂence the thoughts of readÂers on a daiÂly basis. In my case, the influÂence ran espeÂcialÂly deep, since I became a Calvin and Hobbes-lovÂing milÂlenÂniÂal avant la letÂtre while first learnÂing to read through the SunÂday funÂnies. It took no time at all to masÂter Garfield, but when I startÂed getÂting Calvin and Hobbes, I knew I was makÂing progress; even when I didÂn’t underÂstand the words, I could still marÂvel at the sheer exuÂberÂance and detail of the art.
Calvin and Hobbes also attractÂed enthuÂsiÂasts of othÂer genÂerÂaÂtions, not least among othÂer carÂtoonÂists. Joel Allen SchroedÂer’s docÂuÂmenÂtary Dear Mr. WatÂterÂson feaÂtures more than a few of them expressÂing their admiÂraÂtion for how he raised the bar, as well as for how his work conÂtinÂues to enrapÂture young readÂers. Its timeÂlessÂness owes in part to its lack of topÂiÂcal refÂerÂences (in conÂtrast to, say, DoonesÂbury, which I rememÂber always being the most forÂmiÂdaÂble chalÂlenge in my days of incomÂplete litÂerÂaÂcy), but also to its underÂstandÂing of childÂhood itself. Like Stephen King, a creÂator with whom he othÂerÂwise has litÂtle in comÂmon, WatÂterÂson rememÂbers the exotÂic, often bizarre texÂtures realÂiÂty can take on for the very young.
He also rememÂbers that childÂhood is not, as J. M. CoetÂzee once put it, “a time of innoÂcent joy, to be spent in the meadÂows amid butÂterÂcups and bunÂny-rabÂbits or at the hearthÂside absorbed in a stoÂryÂbook,” but in large part “a time of gritÂting the teeth and endurÂing.” Being six years old has its pleaÂsures, to be sure, but it also comes with strong dosÂes of tediÂum, powÂerÂlessÂness, and futilÂiÂty, which we tend not to acknowlÂedge as adults. Calvin and Hobbes showed me, as it’s shown so many young readÂers, that there’s a way out: not through stuÂdiousÂness, not through politeÂness, and cerÂtainÂly not through folÂlowÂing the rules, but through the powÂer of the imagÂiÂnaÂtion to re-enchant daiÂly life. If it gets you sent to your room once in a while, that’s a small price to pay.
RelatÂed conÂtent:
How to Make Comics: A Four-Part Series from the MuseÂum of ModÂern Art
George Herriman’s Krazy Kat, Praised as the GreatÂest ComÂic Strip of All Time, Gets DigÂiÂtized as EarÂly InstallÂments Enter the PubÂlic Domain
17 MinÂutes of Charles Schulz DrawÂing Peanuts
The DisÂney Artist Who DevelÂoped DonÂald Duck & Remained AnonyÂmous for Years, Despite Being “the Most PopÂuÂlar and WideÂly Read Artist-Writer in the World”
The ComiÂcloÂpeÂdia: An Online Archive of 14,000 ComÂic Artists, From Stan Lee and Jack KirÂby, to MĹ“bius and HergĂ©
Based in Seoul, ColÂin Marshall writes and broadÂcasts on cities, lanÂguage, and culÂture. His projects include the SubÂstack newsletÂter Books on Cities, the book The StateÂless City: a Walk through 21st-CenÂtuÂry Los AngeÂles and the video series The City in CinÂeÂma. FolÂlow him on TwitÂter at @colinmarshall or on FaceÂbook.