When I was young, I wanted to be an artist. More specifically, I wanted to be an artist for Marvel Comics. My older brother was an artist, and I found inspiration from the pictures he would draw. My earliest attempts at heroic anatomy where typified by swipes from comic book covers drawn by legendary greats such as Jack Kirby, Steve Ditko and John Romita. Outside of copying the styles of others, I really had no guidance in developing my skills.
Around the age of 13, I discovered a show in the Saturday morning television lineup called
"Drawing Power". All-but-forgotten, it featured an imaginery staff of cartoonists including the never-quite-made-it comedian Lenny Schultz. Each week brought the further adventures of Dewey Decimal, The Golden Turkey awards, and other animated antics. Presented to you, always of course, with a very important lesson. I followed along with my drawing pad, developing my own cartoon characters, but the show never really did spend time teaching artistic concepts.
Several years later, I came across the great Bob Ross on PBS. I spent a half hour every Saturday afternoon marvelling at his broad strokes from which mountains, streams and forests sprang. I even bought the official Bob Ross art kit, but could never match the scenes brought to life through his phthalo blues and burnt umbers. Alas, my paints dried up along with my dreams of becoming an artist.
Long before Bob Ross' "Happy Tree" was even a content acorn hanging from its mother's branch, there was Jon Gnagy.
I'd never heard of Jon Gnagy until this past Friday when at an estate sale in Mehlville I came across an interesting box which begged exploring.