At every age, comics and cartoons bring a kind of comfort despite, maybe even because of their chaos: dialed-up colours and sound effects, warped bodies and realities. For our Comics & Cartoons issue, our contributors confronted this comfort and chaos and got emotive and nostalgic, stylishly violent, playful and perverse. Some drew their own—like a walking cycle of our darling mascot Evie as different characters, or an illustration of a film of a cartoon. Other contributors tackled heroes in all their forms: campy capes and perky nipples, the mythical yet relatable, and the rare untouched and untarnished by the MCU (at least for now). And many unlocked memories and fever dreams, whether from childhood or just last year. So, I decided to tackle some of my own toony thoughts, reanimated from the vault:
1. Once when I was a kid, I carefully rested my forehead on the glass coffee table in the living room, and buried my face in my arms to cry—specifically copying how I saw Cinderella do it in the 1950 Disney movie. It’s right after her pink dress is torn to shreds by her evil stepsisters, and she flees to go sob in the courtyard, resting her head on a stone bench. It was dramatic and ridiculous, but I just had to try, cry it out too. When I emerged, I saw my face had left smudges on the glass. I wiped it off with my sleeve so my mom wouldn’t have to clean it.
2. My love for superheroes was ignited by Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man—it was the first DVD I bought (mistakenly in full-screen format because I thought it sounded better), the first movie soundtrack I bought (mistakenly thought it was Danny Elfman’s entire score instead of Nickelback and Sum 41 songs), the first movie T-shirt I wore (from the boys’ section at Walmart). Now over 20 years later, I’ve watched countless Uncle Bens die, Aunt May age backwards into a sexy AILF, a bunch of billionaire besties betrayed. I miss the fourth wall, it was holding the room together. And yet, I keep crawling back out to see the latest Spidey, still drawn to the idea of a life that is heroic, yet hidden.
3. My earliest sexual awakenings were animated: Tuxedo Mask from Sailor Moon, Helga from Atlantis, Cloud from Final Fantasy VII, to name a few. All edges and curves, fluid and rough—I could feel the hand that drew them. I lamented yet loved that they weren’t “real.” Crushes aren’t supposed to be attainable, anyway.
4. When my husband and I started watching Sailor Moon, he said how much Usagi was like me—feeling her emotions through her whole body. It’s true, we both go from zero to 100 in a single frame. Groaning and drooping our shoulders when we have to rise to the occasion. Scurrying and tripping over our words, feet. Arms flailing over cute boys, like a bird trying to take flight. When I look at my husband, I feel like a cartoon, like the impossible is possible, as my eyes transform into every shape: shimmering stars, pulsating pink hearts.
5. My parents didn’t love my sisters and I watching Looney Tunes when we were kids—too vicious, too cruel! Now as an adult, I see that there really is a kind of bleakness to them. Either chasing or being chased by your frenemy forever. Getting smushed to sea levels by an anvil, or being the one to drop it—always watching, waiting, praying to stick the landing.
Sennah Yee
Managing Editor, In The Mood Magazine
At every age, comics and cartoons bring a kind of comfort despite, maybe even because of their chaos: dialed-up colours and sound effects, warped bodies and realities. For our Comics & Cartoons issue, our contributors confronted this comfort and chaos and got emotive and nostalgic, stylishly violent, playful and perverse. Some drew their own—like a walking cycle of our darling mascot Evie as different characters, or an illustration of a film of a cartoon. Other contributors tackled heroes in all their forms: campy capes and perky nipples, the mythical yet relatable, and the rare untouched and untarnished by the MCU (at least for now). And many unlocked memories and fever dreams, whether from childhood or just last year. So, I decided to tackle some of my own toony thoughts, reanimated from the vault:
1. Once when I was a kid, I carefully rested my forehead on the glass coffee table in the living room, and buried my face in my arms to cry—specifically copying how I saw Cinderella do it in the 1950 Disney movie. It’s right after her pink dress is torn to shreds by her evil stepsisters, and she flees to go sob in the courtyard, resting her head on a stone bench. It was dramatic and ridiculous, but I just had to try, cry it out too. When I emerged, I saw my face had left smudges on the glass. I wiped it off with my sleeve so my mom wouldn’t have to clean it.
2. My love for superheroes was ignited by Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man—it was the first DVD I bought (mistakenly in full-screen format because I thought it sounded better), the first movie soundtrack I bought (mistakenly thought it was Danny Elfman’s entire score instead of Nickelback and Sum 41 songs), the first movie T-shirt I wore (from the boys’ section at Walmart). Now over 20 years later, I’ve watched countless Uncle Bens die, Aunt May age backwards into a sexy AILF, a bunch of billionaire besties betrayed. I miss the fourth wall, it was holding the room together. And yet, I keep crawling back out to see the latest Spidey, still drawn to the idea of a life that is heroic, yet hidden.
3. My earliest sexual awakenings were animated: Tuxedo Mask from Sailor Moon, Helga from Atlantis, Cloud from Final Fantasy VII, to name a few. All edges and curves, fluid and rough—I could feel the hand that drew them. I lamented yet loved that they weren’t “real.” Crushes aren’t supposed to be attainable, anyway.
4. When my husband and I started watching Sailor Moon, he said how much Usagi was like me—feeling her emotions through her whole body. It’s true, we both go from zero to 100 in a single frame. Groaning and drooping our shoulders when we have to rise to the occasion. Scurrying and tripping over our words, feet. Arms flailing over cute boys, like a bird trying to take flight. When I look at my husband, I feel like a cartoon, like the impossible is possible, as my eyes transform into every shape: shimmering stars, pulsating pink hearts.
5. My parents didn’t love my sisters and I watching Looney Tunes when we were kids—too vicious, too cruel! Now as an adult, I see that there really is a kind of bleakness to them. Either chasing or being chased by your frenemy forever. Getting smushed to sea levels by an anvil, or being the one to drop it—always watching, waiting, praying to stick the landing.
Sennah Yee
Managing Editor, In The Mood Magazine