Great Cartoons of the World Series 7, part 9

More from Great Cartoons of the World, Series 7. There are probably links to previous ones at the bottom of this post in the LinkWithin boxes.

The first three here were by John Glashan.

Michael Ffolkes

Miroslav Barták for Dikobraz

Jules Stauber doing a motif Virgil Partch was most famous for.

Mischa Richter for the New Yorker

Frank Modell also for The New Yorker.

Lee Lorenz for the New Yorker.

Edward Koren, now Vermont's cartoonist laureate for... see if you can guess.

Terrence “Larry” Parkes in a series of gags for Punch

Great Cartoons of the World Series 7, part 5

Editor John Bailey says in the introduction to the book after describing some of the contributors to the book that he's met:

It develops some cartoonists are like their work, and some are not. The “why” is always the niggling thing of anything—the endless “why” that people love to diddle with in their heads. Why is Garbo mysterious and Sophia Loren not? Why was Paris fashionable in the nineteenth century, and a dull bore in the twentieth?

To get further, what is the reader like? The cartoonist has an immense curiosity to know. Dear reader, what are you like? I mean, what are you really like?

Boris Drucker for The New Yorker

Eldon Dedini

Michael Ffolkes

George Price, also in the New Yorker. He's mentioned as one of the cartoonists in the book thusly:

George Price is like his work, but not like the people he draws,, whom he has observed carefully, and whom he deeply loves, or perhaps hates. They have become a full-blooded, consistent cast of characters through whom he conveys ideas about life. One can always count on them to say something pertinent on such subjects as Women's Lib, or ecology, which is surprising, since the whole awful crowd seem to stay in the kitchen most of the time with a monkey wrench and a can of beer. Yet Price is apparently able to express anything through them. I'm not sure if he's saying something antiquatedly sexist here, but apologize anyway.

Miroslav Barták for

Great Cartoons of the World Series 7, part 2

More, as I continue to go through Great Cartoons of the World, Series 7 from 1972, like I did last week.

This was by Miroslav Barták for Dikobraz

Donald Reilly for New Yorker, about whom editor John Bailey says in the introduction to this book:

Reilly is a very conventional young man who impresses as having good sense and good taste, and as someone who would be nice to have as a brother or nephew. He is totally in touch with the twentieth century, hates the scene, but instead of ranting and railing in his cartoons, he simply makes very telling thrusts.

It's not possible to post cartoons from magazines of the past without running into racist stereotypes, and here's one again for New Yorker courtesy of James Stevenson, who again is written about in the introduction:

Stevenson looks like the last of the adventurers. One sees him in Kongkow, where the stuff floats on the water among the pilings, or present when the cops kick in the door, turning out to be a detective. There is a toughness of spirit inside him. But the work is sensitive and delicate.

William O'Brian did this one. He too is mentioned in the intro: One would expect to find O'Brian in a proper British club, holding a brandy snifter. He is somewhat vague, given slightly to muttering, and in conversation defers to other people. But given time he is a superior raconteur. He is subtle, but his work is comedic and quite straightforward.

Jean-Jacques Sempé for Denoël

Michael Ffolkes

William O'Brian again

Boris Drucker for New Yorker

Lee Lorenz, also for New Yorker.

Because he is blond and looks like the classical poet of the nineteenth century, one expects a delicate line from Lorenz. However, what one gets is a fat line of great strength and character. There is nothing at all nineteenth century about his work, or his very controlled thoughts on the subject of human nature.

Adolf Born

Boris Drucker

Charles Saxon, for the outlet for most one-panel cartoons, The New Yorker

Eldon Dedini

Great Cartoon of the World, Series 7, part 1

There were several volumes of this series, one every year, which I've been posting. This one is from 1973 and also edited by John Bailey.

Jean-Jacques Sempé

Michael Ffolkes

Jean-Jacques Sempé

Charles Elmer Martin, who did this The New Yorker cartoon, is written about in the introduction thusly: Charles Martin (C.E.M.) is an impressive figure who wears a light beard and looks like one of Robin Hood's men. He has a lively, inquiring mind, is constantly looking around to see what is going on, and has a vast appreciation of textures and moods. His drawings are surprising in their delicacy, at times approaching filigree work.

It says of Charles Saxon, another New Yorker cartoonist: Saxon does not look like his work—close-knit features, an open, alert expression, the solid muscularity of the athlete, and a cool, keen eye—but when he starts to talk about his work. He is emotional, even saturnine about life. His private sense of humor can rarely be detected in conversation, but it is sufficiently evident in his drawings. He has taken material of the twentieth century, has narrowed it down to a comfortable section that includes the upper middle drawer of the upper middle class, and has become a leading authority on it.

New Yorker's Stan Hunt is: ...an excellent example of the work matching the artist. He is hypersensitive with a special insight into the fears that haunt people—illness, failure, and that indefinable feeling that something will get you. All expressed in his cartoons right on the nose.

Boris Drucker is ...saturnine, gloomy, and philosophical, but his work is funny and gay. There is a genuine laugh connected with every cartoon he draws, and he is one of the best gagmen in the business. He looks like a Dosteofskian journalist leading a kind of Kafkaesque like, but somewhere in the depths of Drucker there is a lot of humor.

[Frank] Modell has what has been called “a ready wit”. His work is a true expression of his personality. He is rascally, cynical, and bubbling over with the fun of everything. Very little surprises him. There is not much naiveté in his work or in his nature. The subjects he covers are the subjects he is really interested in, and he does not force himself into any vein that goes against what he can observe easily in his life.

The editor in his intro doesn't mention the foreign cartoonists featured in the book, like Miroslav Barták...

...or Stanislav Holý.

Charles Addams

Forty years ago a plane crashing into a building didn't have the weight it does now, like in this cartoon by Pit Grove.