Meet Robert Crumb, the Cartooning Enigma
Ah, Robert Crumb—or as he’s known to his friends (and perhaps everyone else), “R. Crumb.” This man is not just any old cartoonist; he’s a monumental figure in the realm of modern cartooning and a certified oddball. Dan Nadel’s meticulously detailed biography offers a treasure trove of information, shedding light on both of these aspects.
For quite a while, Crumb was the darling of the mainstream world thanks to his iconic cover art for the Big Brother and the Holding Company/Janis Joplin album Cheap Thrills, along with those wonderfully warped figures brandishing the slogan “Keep on Truckin’” like they were the last known remnants of a lost civilization. However, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. He was the guiding light of the underground comics scene in the Sixties and Seventies, serving as the creator behind Zap Comix.
Crumb unleashed upon the world a psychedelic pantheon of characters that were as lustful as they were absurdist, delivered through his unmistakable hatching technique. We were gifted delights such as Mr. Natural, the Snoid, Angelfood McSpade, and Fritz the Cat—characters that reflect a mind caught in a whirlwind of existential angst and relentless neuroses; essentially, R. Crumb himself, portrayed as a gangly ectomorph wearing milk-bottle glasses. Add a sprinkle of resentment and anxiety, and there you go!
Crumb’s artistic journey didn’t happen in a vacuum. He took notes from the legendary Harvey Kurtzman of Mad Magazine fame and Carl Barks, the unsung creator behind Donald Duck. The young Crumb dubbed Barks “the good duck artist”—and isn’t that sweet? Yet, their teachings paved the way for new cartoonists—from Art Spiegelman to Chris Ware to Daniel Clowes—who are forever indebted to Crumb. As Spiegelman himself states, “Every cartoonist has to pass through Crumb”—talk about a rite of passage!
Now, don’t let the Sixties counterculture label fool you; Crumb’s perspective was as backward-looking as it was ground-breaking. His obsession with collecting vintage 78rpm records serves as a nod to the past, while his artwork often mirrors the nuanced aesthetics of the 19th and early 20th centuries. While his politics lean toward the anticorporate, they are invariably checked by his candid self-reflection.
Born in 1943 in a lower-middle-class Philadelphia family known for their “charming” penchant for dysfunction—anger, madness, and, oh yes, a dash of incest—Crumb’s childhood was more tragicomedy than wholesome family flick. His older brother, a fellow comic enthusiast, never escaped that tumultuous orbit, eventually succumbing to mental health troubles and addiction. Crumb’s neuroses? Just fuel for the cartooning fire—consider him the poster child for turned trauma into art!
Ah, but here’s the kicker: Crumb’s work is what the kids today would dub #problematic. Let’s just say that his caricatures—like Angelfood McSpade—do tend to lean toward the “hyper-eroticized darky” variety. His early comics are like a trip through a cultural time machine, complete with jokes about rape that, at best, can be called “tastefully questionable.” His defense? He’s merely mirroring society’s less savory aspects. Thanks for the honesty, Crumb!
Crumb’s penchant for self-indictment shines through in his work, which often skews towards confessional cartooning. In one self-portrait, he appears visibly chastened by a woman berating him with phrases like “chauvinist pig… white male privilege…” while he contemplates, “@*!!! BITCHES.” A snapshot of inner conflict in comic strip form, indeed!
Instead of facing the music or dealing with #MeToo moments, Crumb found considerable sexual success. His first marriage fell apart like a cheap prop in a bad sitcom, and his relationship with his son was, well, better left unexamined. However, he did find some happiness in a lengthy, open partnership with Aline Kominsky, showing us once again that life is a series of choppy edits.
So, what became of our beloved Crumb? As punk music descended upon the world, he tried to adapt but was disheartened by jabs at his work. “I’m washed up,” he cried, only to later enjoy a resurgence in popularity—just around the time he decided to slow down. He was never in it for the cash—after all, who turns down $20,000 for stuffed toys? Crumb does!
And now, at a sprightly old age, he resides in rural France, where he casually accepts the title of controversial cartoonist. When Nadel finally managed to visit and propose a biography, Crumb shrugged nonchalantly as if to say, “Why not add another bullet point to my absurd resume?”
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 discounts available for Times+ members, because why should you pay full price for a book about a guy who’s paid nothing for art?
