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I support pseudonymity
(or who the hell is Gladstone-Tibbs?)
“Gladstone-Tibbs” doesn’t exist, is not a real person, or is not my real name at least of course.
It’s actually the whimsical nom de guerres of a duo of characters I often illustrate to make (non)sense of the world that are a vignette of the organ grinder and monkey idiom (wiktionary.org) as something of a joke for those that commission who can often find them self at a loss as to which of the two they are talking, and making available the excuse that “the monkey did it” if something is taken the wrong way.
But used here is just the handle, a pseudonym that I use for sketching this sort of stuff. I’ve used a few over the years; my real name really isn’t that much of a secret having have used it selling my illustration in the past, but frankly it’s not gonna interest anyone, so let it go.
Why a pseudonym?
Many “artists” and illustrators prefer to use pseudonyms to work under, and, for sure, it makes my life a helluva lot simpler, for I live in a Thames Estuary town in the east of England with much fishwifery gossip and middle-aged, paleale drinking UKippery supporting “neighbourhood watch” who have recently adopted the use of Facebook looking to apportion societal blame—when not embarrassingly having to ask to assist with Trojan removal after the granny porn they would never look for has mysteriously hijacked their Android phone overnight. C’est la vie.
And it perhaps underlines that it’s what I’m sketching I’d rather you to get to know rather than “me”, who is in all truth quite happy with a much more private existence, indeed, as are my family: Wot no social media?
This is of course unlike the celebrities I often caricature, but I’ve never signed up for living my personal life in public eye. Undoubtedly many of those those famous celebs did neither beyond the persona they present, but while they can’t get away with it, their fame being a feeding tube that winds a long way down, I bloody well thankfully can.
Who am I really satirising?
But for those celebrities though, I do actually have a lot of respect—mostly fan based and as much as I seemingly can caricaturing what I do—and you may notice I’m as keen to parody the tabloid media’s representation of a scandalous or “disgusting” story which they are eagerly keen to carry as I am to draw an image of a celebs sexualised persona, being a “stage” persona as fantasied as anything I draw.
In short, what I aim to draw with sexualised satire is that which is inevitably inherent in media copy regarding whatever story and the social media swirl surrounding it rather than making any particular insinuation about their real character or personality.
In a way I’m making a rather rude comment on the Baudrillard-esque Po-Mo hyperreal “simulacra” (Wikipedia) that celebrity—and our pop cultures often pornified obsession with them—has become—or rather, actually always was, and certainly something I’d be a hypocrite to say I do not enjoy immensely being a child of the tabloid gossip age.
But hey, I didn’t create that situation and nor did anyone on the internet; 8-page Tijuana Bibles (Wikipedia) were popular sketched pornographic celebrity and counter-cultural tracts popular in America from the 1920s to the 1960s and have just carried on in one form or another ever since either drawn or with Photoshop fakery, and, to be honest, the art history of caricature itself was often bluer than any moon you could have wished or not to see since the 18th century if not before.
I sincerely hope you enjoy, and return again soon if you do.
Wot no social media?
No, it’s really not my bag to indulge personally. However, social media and the supercilious indignation that is shared seemingly by all is a recurring theme for satire in Blog and Latest Picks, is the defining part of the current stage of the internet’s evolution and how could I not love it with regards the pictorial cornucopia it provides?
But besides the playground antics that go on quickly putting me off any platform I’ve ever been talked into joining to either help tout my often TOS prohibited illustration or by friends who then spend their time engaging with strangers while hoping you will act as their foil or validate almighty fibbs in their profile, with an oft sociability-straining “artistic temperament” less euphemistically described as not the most stable of people (psychologytoday.com) not helping at all either, and having never really mastered the skills of self promotion that masters of the medium take for granted, I’m content to watch it from the sidelines while it becomes the ostracising, ever watching dystopia prophesied by Black Mirror.
But yeah, if I ever change my mind I’ll “friend” you along with 1,000 others including a sizable proportion of bots and fake accounts in a day hoping they will reciprocally follow back to ensure I’m popular enough to warrant attention, which is the way of things I hear.
That is, if I’m even able to…
That is, if I’m able as, no Twitter or F’book, you really don’t need my phone number to solve your abuse problems and whatever else you may find it profitable to use it for.