Meet Robert Crumb: The Eccentric King of Cartooning
Robert Crumb, or as he prefers to be punk-rock rebellious on his birth certificate, “R Crumb,” is a veritable giant in the world of modern cartooning—a title that could also describe him in height, given the number of unexpected twists in his life story. Dan Nadel’s biography throws the doors wide open on both Crumb’s artistry and his curious demeanor, giving us a peek into a world that’s as strange as Crumb himself.
For years, Crumb was the darling of mainstream culture—for those who didn’t venture too far beyond their dorm rooms. He’s most famous for the cover of the *Cheap Thrills* album by Big Brother and the Holding Company, featuring a psychedelic mishmash of elongated, stoned characters resembling the aftermath of a wild party where nobody quite remembers who passed out first. But this was simply the cherry on top; he was, in fact, the luminous guide of underground comics during the Sixties and Seventies—a title so grand it should come with a badge and a cape.
Crumb’s oeuvre is a colorful carnival of knobbly, love-stricken, and decidedly off-kilter characters, birthed from the depths of his LSD-fueled imagination—Mr Natural, Fritz the Cat, and Whiteman, just to name a few. Each character springs to life through his unmistakable hatching style, which incidentally might just be the only thing cracked in his artwork. And let’s not forget his most complex character: R Crumb, the anxious ectomorph in milk-bottle glasses who’s perpetually agitated—kind of like your friend trying to get through a Netflix queue with a slow Wi-Fi connection.
Crumb’s influences read like a who’s who of comic book royalty. He learned from Harvey Kurtzman, the anarchic Mad magazine maestro, and Carl Barks, who managed to draw Donald Duck without signing his name (Why don’t I have that skill?). Consequently, it’s safe to say that without Crumb’s chaotic genius, the likes of Art Spiegelman or Daniel Clowes may have never found their voices. As Spiegelman aptly put it, “Every cartoonist has to pass through Crumb.” It’s like a rite of passage, minus the obnoxious group hugs.
And here’s a little twist—while Crumb was an icon of the Sixties counterculture, he seemed to have a love affair with nostalgia and the past—next-level hipster behavior before it became mainstream. His life’s obsession with collecting old 78rpm records is almost as quirky as his cartooning, which looks back to a time when people wrote letters and didn’t just “slide into DMs.” Crumb’s political views are characterized by an anti-corporate stance, but it’s impossible to ignore how his examination of the world inevitably becomes a reflection of his own neuroses.
Crumb’s troubled past is a plot twist that would make a soap opera writer jealous. Born in 1943 to a lower-middle-class family in Philadelphia, Crumb’s childhood was as joyful as being trapped in a horror film: filled with anger, madness, and a lot of family issues—like the kinds you only find at Thanksgiving dinner. He escaped into art, but it’s a miracle he didn’t end up in a sitcom as the misunderstood genius. Of course, Crumb’s artistic genius isn’t free of controversy; some might say he even deserves a participation trophy in the #problematic league—his work is rife with uncomfortable racial and sexual politics, notably epitomized by a caricature or two that would make today’s sensitivity police sweat profusely.
Rather than facing jail time for his escapades, Crumb casually maneuvered through some notable romantic misadventures, first marrying the first woman he slept with (who likely regrets it during every holiday gathering) and later engaging in a long-term relationship with Aline Kominsky. During this time, he faced a creative block when the counterculture that once hailed him decreed him “so last season.” But like any good antihero, Crumb re-emerged with a new, more realistic style, and even took a potshot at the punk scene, only to be publicly ridiculed. Like all true artists, he embraced this turmoil with a flourish—because what’s a little humiliation among friends?
In today’s world, while Crumb may have become a financial wizard of sorts—his work suddenly worth its weight in gold—he’s still the same guy who wouldn’t part with his creations for just any old sum. Crumb turned down alotta big bucks, including $20,000 for a plushie line of Mr. Natural toys—because who wouldn’t want to pay to cuddle with their existential crisis? He even rejected a tempting $10,000 offer to design an album cover for the Rolling Stones, all because he couldn’t stand their tunes—talk about having standards!
In a bid to understand this icon, Dan Nadel unravels the man behind the comic legend. Now widowed and in the rolling hills of rural France, Crumb reveals his life’s absurdities like a reluctant stand-up comedian, shrugging off the idea of scrutiny with a dexterity that suggests he’s been preparing for this moment all along. Crumb was ready for biographical fame, and after a complicated series of travel plans to reach him, Nadel got the nod—the nod everyone hopes will not involve compliments about their questionable fashion choices.
Crumb: A Cartoonist’s Life by Dan Nadel (Scribner £25 pp458). To order a copy go to timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members.
