Meet Robert Crumb: The King of Quirky Cartooning
Let’s dive into the wonderfully weird world of Robert Crumb, or “R Crumb” for those in the know—or just those who have the patience for his whimsically eccentric exploits. Dan Nadel’s detailed biography offers an eye-popping tour of this eccentric genius, revealing both his towering influence on modern cartooning and the fact that he’s definitely not your average Joe.
For decades, Crumb was known outside the cartooning cosmos for his iconic cover art on the Big Brother and the Holding Company/Janis Joplin album Cheap Thrills and those gloriously elongated, stoned figures coupled with the catchphrase “Keep on Truckin’”—ideal for dorm-room walls and 18-wheeler mudflaps alike. But let’s be real; that was just the tip of the iceberg. His true claim to fame? Being the guiding beacon of underground comics during the ’60s and ’70s, paving the way for Zap Comix like a psychedelic Moses.
From his mind emerged a hallucinogenic pantheon of characters—think Mr. Natural, Fritz the Cat, and Angelfood McSpade. All were woven together with Crumb’s signature hatching technique, encapsulating his knack for the absurd and the scabrous. And then, there’s the pièce de résistance: R Crumb himself—an awkward ectomorph with milk-bottle specs, simmering with a cocktail of existential angst and simmering resentments. What a charmer!
Crumb’s inspirations are as eclectic as his characters. Influenced by Harvey Kurtzman of Mad Magazine fame and the mysterious Carl Barks, known affectionately as “the good duck artist,” Crumb became the godfather of an entire generation of cartoonists. As Art Spiegelman of Maus fame puts it, “Every cartoonist has to pass through Crumb”—which sounds a bit more like a rite of passage than a compliment, doesn’t it? Who knew encountering Crumb could be as enlightening as a hyperdrive in 2001: A Space Odyssey?
Though he epitomizes the counterculture glam of the ’60s, Crumb is a bit more of an old soul drowning in nostalgia. His love for collecting 78rpm shellac records says more about his fixation on the yesteryear than any of his characters do. Politically speaking, he’s anti-corporate, yet his best material often turns the lens inward, providing a startlingly honest look at himself—historical baggage and all.
Speaking of baggage, Crumb was born in 1943 into a Philadelphia family rife with angst. With a backstory straight out of a soap opera—think violence, madness, and good old-fashioned dysfunctional family dynamics—it’s a miracle he didn’t end up in an asylum. The brother who nurtured his early comic talents tragically succumbed to mental health struggles, leaving Crumb grappling with his own neuroses while channeling them into his work.
Let’s not sugarcoat it: Crumb’s work is downright #problematic by today’s standards. His character Angelfood McSpade, a hyper-eroticized “darky” caricature, makes you wonder if he was trying to set a new bar for bad taste. Several early comics featured rape played for laughs, which makes today’s readers clutch their pearls in disbelief. But here comes the defense: Crumb claims he merely holds up a mirror to society’s ills rather than creating them. Ah, the old “I’m just reflecting reality” defense—classic!
But what’s this? Crumb, true to form, seems to have ridden the wave of sexual freedom right into a few questionable territories. His first marriage fizzled out, but who wouldn’t want to leave behind a son for a long-term, capricious love affair with fellow cartoonist Aline Kominsky? In the mid-’70s, as the counterculture lost its spark, Crumb found himself grappling with a new tone—one that embraced realism like an old friend who shows up at the worst of times. And yet, like a generous host, he still managed to serve his signature dish of self-deprecation.
The pendulum has swung back around. Now, Crumb’s work commands serious cash, yet he remains blissfully indifferent to the allure of money—aside from the occasional grumble about unpaid taxes. A self-proclaimed “child in matters of finance,” he coolly turned down a $20,000 offer for Mr. Natural toys and a cool $10,000 for an album cover from the Rolling Stones because he absolutely loathed their music. Talk about priorities!
And now, at the ripe age of almost 80 and a widower in rural France, Crumb sits like a curious artifact in the world of modern art. Despite his unusual nature, Nadel managed to persuade him into a biographical portrait, which took a commendable four months of planning—from flights and train rides to navigating the countryside. But in true Crumb fashion, the man simply shrugged and said, “I’m not opposed to it.”
So there you have it—a unique slice of cartooning history wrapped up in the delightful enigma that is Robert Crumb, a man who turned his many flaws—including his wildly inappropriate humor—into a legacy that continues to inspire and amuse. Who knew being a little ‘problematic’ could have such staying power?
