I've been somewhat reluctant to post anything I've been submitting to The New Yorker, mostly on the grounds that once it becomes public it is no longer viable for potential publication. Cartoons that have been rejected can see new life with another caption or just having sat around long enough to become more funny another day. That said, I'm letting these three out- two of them on the grounds that they were probably just too "out there" and one because I enjoyed it but unlike the other two, never made it past the cartoon editor's desk.
This cartoon is obviously one of the strange ones. As I've told other people, my aim is not to create the definative lawyer gag, but to instill a sense of the absurd, along with occasional bursts of dark humor, and whimsy. Lately I've taken to more polished drawings using shading techniques that I've been picking up by studying Charles Addams work. While this might seem contrary to the current existing minimalist style that The New Yorker is situated in right now, I feel there is always room for the two headed chicken to reappear.
Here is another one that made it past the first gate but was ultimately too "something". The stuff I'm not showing you is a little more down home plate- in case you think this is the norm. But, in coming up with 6-10 ideas a week you have to amuse yourself and not anybody else, otherwise it becomes a real slog trying to find out how to please everybody. I'm still in my learning curve even eight months in, but it's been a great time, frustrating, but great.
This cartoon is an example of what I was turning in at the start of my Tuesday tenure. I have several styles of drawing that are natural to me- the picture above a prime example. This one didn't make it past the first hurdle, which is a pisser but again, you never know what's going to be funny to other people. Why subject myself to the constant grind of trying to crack the hardest nut? I'm stubborn. I blame my Southern Hillbilly/German grandmother for that. I'm also a Taurus if you follow that jazz. I like the routine, I like the challenge, I like getting my sticky I.D. enabling me to go up to the 2oth floor, I like seeing everybody in the cartoon lounge awaiting their turn, I like pestering Farley for emergency white out, I like seeing what Bob holds on to, I like walking down to the Pergola for lunch, and I love talking with the veterans, the younger vets, and the struggling up-and-comers like myself. It's only a rare day that every Tuesday I don't smirk on the way home thinking to myself that I'm the luckiest bastard in the world to be a part of this. Well, on that note, enjoy these rejected rejects and keep your fingers crossed for me. This week I have a great Tarzan idea lined up amongst several other slightly more reasonable gags.
This cartoon is obviously one of the strange ones. As I've told other people, my aim is not to create the definative lawyer gag, but to instill a sense of the absurd, along with occasional bursts of dark humor, and whimsy. Lately I've taken to more polished drawings using shading techniques that I've been picking up by studying Charles Addams work. While this might seem contrary to the current existing minimalist style that The New Yorker is situated in right now, I feel there is always room for the two headed chicken to reappear. 
Here is another one that made it past the first gate but was ultimately too "something". The stuff I'm not showing you is a little more down home plate- in case you think this is the norm. But, in coming up with 6-10 ideas a week you have to amuse yourself and not anybody else, otherwise it becomes a real slog trying to find out how to please everybody. I'm still in my learning curve even eight months in, but it's been a great time, frustrating, but great. 
This cartoon is an example of what I was turning in at the start of my Tuesday tenure. I have several styles of drawing that are natural to me- the picture above a prime example. This one didn't make it past the first hurdle, which is a pisser but again, you never know what's going to be funny to other people. Why subject myself to the constant grind of trying to crack the hardest nut? I'm stubborn. I blame my Southern Hillbilly/German grandmother for that. I'm also a Taurus if you follow that jazz. I like the routine, I like the challenge, I like getting my sticky I.D. enabling me to go up to the 2oth floor, I like seeing everybody in the cartoon lounge awaiting their turn, I like pestering Farley for emergency white out, I like seeing what Bob holds on to, I like walking down to the Pergola for lunch, and I love talking with the veterans, the younger vets, and the struggling up-and-comers like myself. It's only a rare day that every Tuesday I don't smirk on the way home thinking to myself that I'm the luckiest bastard in the world to be a part of this. Well, on that note, enjoy these rejected rejects and keep your fingers crossed for me. This week I have a great Tarzan idea lined up amongst several other slightly more reasonable gags.
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