December 16th, 2019

alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
This was written on May 24 of this year, for friends and family. Putting it here now because I can't let 2019 go out without acknowledging the loss that hurt the most. I don't really know who reads this blog, but it's likely that this name won't mean anything to most people, and that feels wrong.


So long, Camilla Schade.

Schade/Bishop May 2019

Camilla was basically part of my family. After meeting my parents in 1975 when I was two and she was in college, she moved to Pennsylvania when the rest of us did in 1977, and was around more or less all the time for more or less all of my childhood and adolescence, working closely with their theater company in Lancaster and touring with us for long stretches in a van. Besides having literally babysat me and my sister, she also formed a lot of my ideas of what acting was (especially comic acting in a solo show, since I saw her first one about a million times, but she was versatile to a degree that at the time I didn't understand was really unusual); she was also a pretty good cartoonist, though I'm not sure how much she ever did with that other than set pieces and programs; and she was basically the coolest grownup I had ever met.

While still working with the company a lot, she started writing and directing her own stuff pretty soon and became a local legend, so that many years later after having moved to western New York, she still had a loyal following in Lancaster. So, after she received a terminal diagnosis recently, she decided to create a solo show about it and travel 200 miles to do that show, as one does. Meg and I went to Lancaster to see her do it, and you can see it too if you like, it's great: here. We got to hang out for a while among her many friends and admirers, and immediately upon meeting Meg she apologized for missing our wedding five years ago (in fact, exactly five years ago today, which feels like one of her weird jokes). I didn't know what to say, since as far as I was concerned I was the one who had flaked out, not having really tried to stay in touch after I moved to NYC and the rest of my family went elsewhere... but unfortunately that's how I was with other extended family, too.

I'm now on a quest to track down video recordings of some of the plays she did in Ithaca, which I know will be weird to see now, but I have to. I remember as a young guy I felt a little confused and irritated about how she had stayed in regional theater, since even though I understood that that was a totally worthy pursuit, I thought she was meant to be really famous like Lily Tomlin or someone. But based on how she talked in the final minutes of her final performance, she was right where she wanted to be: that is, furiously second-guessing all of her choices and laughing at herself.

some pictures )
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
I posted this on Facebook at the time, but not here on my public blog because it seemed like there was nothing I could really add to the outpouring of sadness and gratitude from virtually everyone I know in the comics world. But then later it seemed like that's not how it works, so... well anyway.


I don't think I ever met Tom Spurgeon in person or corresponded with him more than briefly, but his writing and editing have given so much to the world of comics for something like 30 years—his work with The Comics Journal was hugely inspiring to me as a kid, both in terms of making me aware of a lot of great art and also as an example of how to write well about things you love... and he continued to be a valuable writer online in this weird new world of atomized voices. And from everything I've read, he was also just a plain great guy.

For so many people I know this is a much more personal loss, but I have to say it really hurts to realize that I will not get to know him. That was something I sort of vaguely intended to try to do, for years and years and years, because his work had made me so happy and he seemed like he'd be great to talk to, but until pretty recently I was just way too shy and had a big hangup about not being a real cartoonist or whatever. Finally a couple months ago I managed to at least connect on Facebook, but then I never said anything. Don't be like me! Talk to people!

Probably the most we ever communicated was 20+ years ago when I was hanging out a lot on the Comics Journal online forum, learning quickly how many ways there were for online dialogue to go bad. For no reason except that he seemed to be the nicest and sanest person there, I emailed him asking if he could do me a weird favor: if he happened to notice me getting into an argument there, could he maybe just send me a note like "don't"? He was incredibly obliging (although I don't think it actually became an issue after that) and commiserated about how badly those things can mess with your head. I don't think I had any idea that he was only four or five years older than me—he seemed like a cool uncle. Tom may have sort of raised his voice there at someone once or twice when they were really asking for it, but mostly I just remember him being calm and saying interesting things while people were flinging hot poop all over the place.

Also, on two occasions he said nice things in reviews about some comics I made, which was pretty good odds considering I was making virtually no comics and virtually no one was reading them. I was simultaneously over the moon because he somewhat liked them, and crushed because he didn't like them more. Always in the back of my mind there was this idea that one of these days I'd show him something that was actually good.

Profile

alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
alibi_shop

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags