Charles Apple

In case you missed the announcement last week in the SND Update blog, Richard Johnson is home from Afghanistan.

Many of you may recall Richard’s incredible pencil-drawn artwork from Iraq in 2003. He went there as an embedded visual journalist for The Detroit Free Press.

Flash forward five years. Richard is now the graphics editor for the National Post of Toronto. He went back to the Middle East this summer to embed with Canadian troops stationed there.

The National Post’s Richard Johnson.
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His work was posted in a blog for the National Post. And again, his practiced eye gave his readers a look at their men and women overseas — a look much different than any of them had ever seen.

Richard’s stuff is nothing short of breathtaking.

He agreed to answer a few questions for us:

Q. How long were you in Afghanistan?

A. I was in Afghanistan for two months.

Q. Was it difficult to talk the military into embedding an artist with the troops? As opposed to a reporter or a photog, that is.

A. Some. At the last stage the military came very close to turning me aside, because they didn’t want to give the space to an artist when they could give it instead to what they saw as a real journalist.

Below is a heavily edited note written by the Public Affairs Officer who did finally approve my admission application after sticking his neck out and pretending I was a photographer:

My name is Captain Doug MacNair, I coordinate the media embedding program from a desk here in Ottawa.

I do not think we spoke before you departed for Afghanistan, if we did and I do not remember, I’m sorry.

I am writing to thank you for the work you are doing in Afghanistan.

I have embedded more than 250 journalists in our program, and no embed has given me more personal satisfaction than yours.

I have enjoyed reading your blog, you write as well as you draw.

Thanks for being handy with a pencil and a piece of paper.

Thanks for writing so well about the things that are hard to draw.

Thanks for leaving your family to do an important job. I know how that feels and it’s never easy.

Most of all Richard, thanks for risking your life while you do all those things.

Q. What percent of the work you did was on-the-spot sketching? What percent was photography reference for later?

A. All of my portrait work on this trip was live, done while I sat and chatted to the subject. I tended not to approach the soldiers for portraits until I had been on some kind of a mission with them. I have found that they are much more willing to talk openly with you if they see that you are willing to accept some of the risks they do.

All of the landscapes and stationary military equipment was drawn live, as were most of the rough sketches.

I use photographic reference only when things are happening too fast and when it is too dangerous, or simply inappropriate to have my sketchpad out. I am constantly trying to push the envelope on those scenarios too though. I only ever draw from my own photographs. I think the fact that I have experienced what I am drawing is an essential part of the final art.

I can also draw entirely from memory if I see something but am unable to draw live or to get my camera on it.

Q. What tools did you use? How did you keep your pencils sharpened?

A. I use only one type of pencil and keep a whole bunch in my pocket at all times. They are a Prismacolor pencil. I sharpen them with a Leatherman I keep on my belt. They work very well in all kinds of conditions and are fairly impervious to over-rub smudging and sweat blotting. This also means that I cannot erase anything.

I used a digital camera to photograph the sketches each evening, and emailed them back to the National Post using a small satellite phone.

Q. Over the course of this trip — or, for that matter, your earlier trip to Iraq — did you ever feel your life was in danger?

A. No. I have never felt my life was in any danger. There is a natural tendency to believe that death cannot happen to you, and I grasp this lifeline pretty tightly. Without this helpful delusion I would likely never get off the plane.

In Afghanistan on various patrols there was shooting around me, but not often enough that I could become an expert on whether it was nearby or not. I take my cues from the soldiers. When they duck down, I duck down. When they lie face down, I lie face down.

The Forward Operating Bases were regularly on the receiving end of rocket and mortar fire, but this was so random and so sporadic that you can’t do anything other than get on with your work, ignore it and hope for the best.

Every convoy or vehicle patrol that you complete shortens your odds of connecting with an IED. All of the Canadians killed in combat in Afghanistan were killed by these devices.

Q. What struck you as the biggest differences between this trip and your 2003 Iraq trip?

A. No Skittles.

Published in 2003. Illustrations by Richard; text by Jeff Seidel, also of the Free Press. Buy it for $13.57 from Amazon here. Or, order it directly from the Freep for $19.95 here.
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Q. Do you plan to publish another book collecting your drawings?

A. Quite a few people have mentioned this possibility. It is difficult to believe that the interest is there though, outside of the families of soldiers, artist types and my mum.

I am also loath to consider myself an expert. I think maybe if I made a number of these trips then I might start to feel I had enough work for a book.

I am working however actively with a couple of other combat artists — one from Britain and one from the U.S. — on the possibility of getting a joint exhibition.

Q. I bought a copy of the Iraq book. I’m betting several of the readers of this blog also have copies. What’s the best way to get those books autographed? Will you be in Boston?

A. No plans to be in Boston as of this question.

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Richard picked out a couple of favorite drawings from his trip. Here they are, along with the text he presented with each, when they were originally posted to his blog.

THURSDAY, JUNE 28
Near Millayan

The dismounted soldiers walk only in the tracks of the tank. Constantly sweeping their weapons left and right, up and down, the buildings as we pass. They call out dangers and possible firing lines to one another as they walk. The sergeant keeps them all spaced and reminds them of their jobs. The jigsaw-building gigglers are not here now. We walk on.

The dirt walls either side are mere inches from the width of the tank. The soft talcum of sand rises into the air around us. I realize I forgot my face scarf. I shoot everything non-stop. It is too bright out to see the camera’s screen so I snap blind. I watch my feet. I try not to get in the way. I try and miss nothing.The heat starts to take a toll. Every time the tank stops soldiers alternate turns to drink. Civilian families are waved inside by the interpreters and the ANP. I snag a water from the ever-prepared Corporal Tu. My camera makes one last grinding sand-filled attempt to focus and dies. I grab the spare.

We move on metre after choking metre, after km after km before eventually leaving the buildings for open fields. Gunfire erupts from the lead tank’s coaxial machine gun. It hurtles forward, crushing a stone wall and rumbling into the field. The soldiers duck by the wall. Then they are joined by others, then hustled by their sergeants to work to the right along the road flanking something I cannot see. Gunfire erupts again and I drop to one knee. I am the only one though. Everyone else can tell friendly from enemy gunfire. The tanks continue moving and firing.

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SUNDAY, JULY 22
Role 3 hospital

During the cleanup, three hours after we began, all the sheets and masking were peeled away and a man appeared from under them again. A rough blanket was thrown over him.

With the stretcher standing by, he was gradually roused by one of the Dutch nurses. He started to shiver and I could see him working to pull the blanket up with fingers that wouldn’t do what they were told. The nurse helped him get it to his chin. I stayed through the whole process until the patient was on the ward and in bed.

I could only imagine the pain he would be in tomorrow.

And I wondered whether anyone had told him yet about his five friends.

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Stunning stuff. Simply stunning.

Find Richard’s Kandahar Journal blog here.

Richard also recorded an interview with the Canadian Broadcast Company. Find the MP3 of that interview here.

The Friday edition of Link featured a new free-lance illustrator whose work I enjoyed quite a bit — Larry Printz, who is also The Virginian-Pilot’s auto editor.

Larry joined the Pilot about a year-and-a-half ago, after spending 14 years as a graphic artist and then graphics editor of The (Allentown, Pa.) Morning Call.

Previously, Larry had worked as a cartoonist for the Bucks County (Pa.) Courier Times and the Doylestown (Pa.) Intelligencer. He redesigned each of those papers while he worked there.

Pilot auto editor Larry Printz.
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After years of graphics and editorial cartooning, Larry began dabbling in writing assignments in 1993. He started an auto review column for The Morning Call in 1995 and was eventually picked up by a syndicate.

He left the visuals side behind, however, when he jumped to The Pilot in 2006.

Larry agreed to answer a few questions for us about his career and about life after visuals:

Q. When did you get out of visuals? When you came to the Pilot? Or were you already firmly in the word side back in Allentown?

A. I was already on the word side in Allentown, which is where it started.

When I joined the Call in 1992, it had the sort of newsroom culture that allowed you to try other things apart from your job. Being a classically-trained pianist, I initially started writing about music. But soon I realized I should start writing about cars.

I like to get paid for having fun, and cartooning and driving are two things I like and like getting paid to do.

Larry and my daughter, Elizabeth, at a
big Virginia Beach car show, May 2006.
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Q. How did this migration take place? It was a gradual process?

A. It was gradual, over three years. But I interviewed an amazing number of entertainers, Burt Bacharach, Brian Wilson, Paul Anka, Nancy Wilson, Jacob Dylan, Kirsty MacColl, and Stan Freberg among others.

[The writing] migrated to cars slowly, but surely. Then two news events happened in our backyard and before long, it was a regular feature.

Q. What were the two events?

A. The introduction of the Ford Taurus and Mercury Sable and a national meeting of the Austin-Healey club.

Q. You reported them?

A. Yes, then came back, wrote the story and designed the page.

Q. What was the most interesting music interview you had?

A. Burt Bacharach. Not just because of the length of his career, his extensive musical training, his extensive knowledge, but it turns out we’re related.

Music icons of the 1960s: Burt
Bacharach and Brian Wilson.
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Q. Brian Wilson struggles with mental health issues and has a long history of for giving poor — or, at least, peculiar — interviews. What was he like?

A. It depends whether he’s had his meds. I came away feeling guilty about it. This is a guy who gave so much; people want more. We should feel lucky he’s still with us making music.

Q. You had a background in writing or reporting before all this started, right? Surely you weren’t born with all those word-person skills…

A. Actually, prior to writing at The Morning Call, I had never written a story of any sort. My writing was limited to cartooning.

Larry’s section, Drive, appears in The Virginian-Pilot every Friday. That’s his column on the right; he usually writes the lead feature, as well. Which was the case this past Friday with a test drive of the new Smart car.
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Q. So you’re out of the visual side, forever. And then you move to the Virginian-Pilot — one of the nation’s more visual newspapers. Is that weird, or what?

A. Oh yeah. But I find that my experience on the visual side has helped structure my writing, since I can think of the layout before a word is written.

Q. You’re still a member of the National Cartoonists Society. Do you still attend their meetings? What’s it like to rub elbows with that bunch?

A. I’ve been a member since I was 23 and still attend meetings. It’s shockingly normal, except their jokes are funnier. And despite what you might think, no one talks in speech balloons.

Brenda Starr cartoonist Dale Messick.
She died in 2005.
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Q. What’s your favorite famous-cartoonist anecdote?

A. I have a million of them, but here’s one…

A few years ago, I saw Dale Messick, creator of Brenda Starr and the first successful female cartoonist. She was in her early 90s, and I found her in the hotel business office surfing the web. We exchanged pleasantries and agreed to chat later.

At a cocktail reception, she was asked if she had to do it all over again, would she go into Col. Patterson’s office at the Chicago Tribune and become a syndicated cartoonist. She said, “Hell no. I’d go to California and buy real estate.”

Larry gobbles down a Philly cheesesteak for a Virginian-Pilot “Taste test” feature earlier this year.
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Q. While rummaging around our system for photos of you, I found a shot of you eating what appears to be a Philly cheesesteak. What was that all about? Are you from Philly?

A. Born in Philly, home to such cartoonists as Ted Key (Hazel) and Robb Armstrong (Jump Start).

Q. What was it like growing up in a big city without professional sports?

A. Yo! That hurts.

A sample of Larry’s cartoon work in last week’s Link.
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Q. Do you miss art direction? Illustrating? Locator maps?

A. Since I am also editor of my section, I still indulge in a bit of art direction.

I do miss being a staff cartoonist, but still freelance.

I will never miss drawing another locator map, but I love it when I find one that’s particularly well executed.

Q. What advice can you give the rest of us designers and artists?

A. Words matter. A designer’s job is to amplify them without detracting from them.

A lesson I learned as a cartoonist is that the words matter more than the drawing. The drawing can be bad, but if the words are funny enough, it won’t matter. Looking at many comic strips today proves that point.

Thanks, Larry, for the interview. And best wishes for the continued success of the Drive section.

And hey, come on back to graphics whenever you get bored. I have some locator assignments waiting for you..

Here’s wishing a happy VizEds birthday to my pal Dennis Bolt, graphics editor of the Press-Democrat in Santa Rosa, California. Dennis turns 33 today (Sunday).

Before he moved to Santa Rosa in 2005, Dennis spent nearly seven-and-a-half years as an artist at the Marin County, Calif., Independent Journal. Among the folks with whom he worked there: Len DeGroot, now the graphics editor of the South Florida Sun Sentinel, and executive editor Mike Townsend, who gave me my start in management by hiring me to be his graphics editor after he became managing editor of The Des Moines Register. Mike is now the editor in Burlington, Vt.

And before that, Dennis was the presentation director of the University of Oregon’s Daily Emerald. Yes, Dennis is a Fighting Duck.

Dennis was sooo excited when he learned he had won two SND awards earlier this year for this doubletruck centerpiece graphic he drew commemorating the 1906 San Francisco-area earthquake that pretty much leveled Santa Rosa.

As usual, click on the thumbnail for a larger view:

It’s a pretty sweet piece. It won Awards of Excellence in both the infographics and the mapping categories — plus, the special section in which it appeared won an award, too.

Dennis also won a second SND award for mapping for the highway page, below at left. The knife graphic — second from left, below — won in both the infographics and features design categories, giving Dennis a total of five wins in 2007:

Hey, that knife graphic is pretty sharp. See Dennis’ entire portfolio here.

Dennis shares a birthday with Macaulay Culkin, Brandford Marsalis, Geraldine Ferraro and the Washington Post’s Ben Bradlee.

Plus, today is National Cherry Popsicle Day. Seriously.

Happy birthday, Dennis! Best wishes!