Robot Fury Invades Schulz Museum

A few weeks ago I sat in on a cartooning class a friend taught at the Schulz Museum. The subject was Superheroes and Brian Kolm (Beyond the Great Chimney) did a great job teaching the kids what it took to create a superhero. He held the kids in rapt attention for several hours as he taught them the ins and outs of superheroics (he even brought a cape). Of the many excerices he had them do, the most fun was the Name Game. Each student was given a bizarre superhero name which they had to create the drawing for--the real trick was conveying the name of the superhero just through the drawing. As a seasoned student, the kids chose a name for me to cook up my own superhero with, and so came the dawn of ROBOT FURY.

This was actually a pretty tough challenge. I can't remember the last time I drew a robot and I certainly drew myself into a corner trying to imagine the gears and gizmos that go into one. What keeps Robot Fury going is the transplanted brain of Sgt. Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Nick served his country until his aged, bruised, and war-beaten body couldn't do it any longer; his dying wish was to live on and keep fightin' the good fight.

The Schulz Museum is in Santa Rosa and it's an impressive facility. The museum is dedicated to preserving and researching the work of Charles Schulz; from his very early work, to a wall-mural he painted for his child's nursery (which was uprooted and transported to the museum!), to the very last strip he created. It's got everything--they even recreated his study and drawing table for everyone to see. I was amazed to see just how large he works; each strip is at least 8"x18." My favorite part of the museum are the quotes painted on the calssroom walls, each a nugget of cartooning wisdom.

Peanuts is a strip that we take for granted. Maybe that's because it's always been around in some form or another; if not as a comic strip, as a Woodstock doorstop, or some such nonsense. When the characters are taken out of context too often, they lose some of their vitality and we forget who they really are (one of the major reasons Bill Watterson refused to merchandise Calvin). For all the merchandising and licensing that Peanuts creates, the Schulz Museum does a good job of preserving the integrity of the strip and the artist who created it (ironic, since right next door to the museum is the licensing branch for Peanuts).

Lately I've been reading the fourth volume of the collected Peanuts from Fantagraphics books. Even though I've read Peanuts all my life, this is the first time I'm reading it as a cartoonist. Now I get to study his linework and his gags, his characters and his timing. I can see his strengths and how he fixed his weaknesses. And I get to laugh at a bunch of strips I never would have got as a kid.

That right there is the beauty of Peanuts: liking it as a kid and loving it as an adult.