“I’ve always been fascinated by people who can put things down on paper, and I liked to listen for new ways to say old things and old ways to say new things.” — Andy Warhol
I think, based on Andy Warhol’s shoe illustrations, that he would appreciate the title of this piece. He appropriated words and images from everywhere and was a consummate master at it. Perhaps that explains my love for his soup cans and other, ordinary objects. He spins illustrations and texts into fanciful creations that cause me to look anew at commonplace items, daily routines.
His approach toward art and writing encourages my own. I rarely write in form, but I love what it can do. It, on occasion, becomes a way to say a “new thing,” to present another facet. I turn the “thing,” letting it reflect the light, letting myself find a new entry point, be it a “new way” or an old one.
The same occurs with the Write Right comics. I seldom draw Write Right or her environment according to the instructions set in the known fairytales and Shakespeare plays. I look into background information and find my own way to say a thing.
As I do, the comics come to life and present themselves in a new light. They enrich what has come before, nodding to it in respect even as it moves toward its own way of being. They laugh and shimmer with whimsy.
How can they not? Write Right, after all, is some form of my four-year-old self who could laugh at nothing for hours. She arises from a fascination with other people’s creative work and processes. She brings together the old and the new, something borrowed but never “blue,” (red pen, forever) and transforms them into something not yet seen, something still taking shape beneath my hands every time I sit at the table and draw.
So, thank you, Andy Warhol, for encouraging a love of the old and the new, for reminding people to look for new ways to say old things and old ways to say new things.
Image: Jamie Pfister (Creative Commons)