Christian Scott picks up the phone after a few rings; when I ask how he is, he says, “Good.” Then a pause. “Sitting on a comfy couch!” This comfy couch is far away from my Pawtucket office chair, all the way in Seattle, where the 2022 RISD graduate, illustrator, and cartoonist has recently set up shop. When asked what he misses about Providence, his first answer is the quiet. His second answer is Coffee Exchange (“There’s just nothing that’s topped it so far”). Much has changed, but much remains familiar, such as the northerncoast spookiness and Scott’s studio setup. He doesn’t need much to make his work. Flurries of drawings appear instantaneously from a Sharpie and whatever paper is closest – newsprint, a paper grocery bag, an old textbook. His desk used to be a folding table from Walmart with a crack down the middle, but he just upgraded to the cheapest Ikea option, giving him the luxury of a uniform surface. Then there’s a bookshelf, some Bristol board, and a pile of pens and ink. Even the classic cartoonist’s workhorse, the light table, is left alone. He originally did his linework with it, but is used to drawing traditionally, only using digital for some colors. The light table can wear out the eyes like “just another big screen,” he says. He now sketches with non-photo blue pencil, which is easy to remove upon scanning. Besides, tracing a sketch onto a new page polishes and lightens it.
Looking at Scott’s expressive characters, it’s easy to understand why he’d want to preserve the initial rough gesture – “the first sketch is where the magic happens.” That magic has spawned an eclectic cast populating Motif’s pages. Scott is the creator of Bighead McIron (whose resident bandit, Mouse Joe, hides from his usual blistering desert on this cover) and previously Gus: Eternal Optimist. He publishes collections of his cartoons in 40-page installments titled Public Displays of Affection. The themes: ennui, loneliness, dreamlike absurdity. The artists on his aforementioned bookshelf include both ends of the humor spectrum: Charles Schultz’s Peanuts, but also R. Crumb and Chris Ware. He aims to strike a balance. The contemplative, cyclical universe of comics like George Herriman’s Krazy Kat come to mind. Or, as Scott puts it, “Charlie Brown, but the stuff that wouldn’t get published.” Our cover’s full page of real estate allows for some old-fashioned chaos. The medieval bedlam of Hieronymous Bosch and Pieter Bruegel the Elder has entered Rhode Island. What about Providence’s winter attracts such creatures? “The starkness of the winter in New England, I think,” says Scott. “When there’s not much to do, there’s this childlike experience of imagining things that aren’t there.” Cabin fever. Mystery roadkill. Crumbling old walls. Things in the river. Getting stuck on the bridge. He’s reminded of a story. “It was snowing in March, and I was walking. I walked really far, probably all the way to Pawtucket. And I was really hungry. I saw a snowman with a carrot nose… and I stole it, ate it, and ran away. There were windows, so someone must’ve seen me. And it turns out it was spoiled.” A hilarious, but fruitless endeavor – like one of his own creations, scuttling away across the slush.
You can find Scott’s other work at christianphilipscott.cargo.site, on Instagram @ wavygravyscott, or whenever RISD Craft comes around.