“Yes, yes that’s right…we’re just fans, waiting to get autographs.”
The musical Cats has been around forever, but I did this early cartoon when it was still exciting. ;)
I’ve gone to plays since I was little. As soon as my flock of girlfriends was old enough to persuade our parents we were old enough, we used to take the train to center city, or even NYC on occasion, to see whatever play had matinee shows.
I went to an all girls high school, so we were even more boy crazy than most teens, and to read about actors and then go see them in person was heaven. We were brave, too, because nothing is more driven than a gaggle of intense, smart, yearning young girls. So we would hang around backstage and back doors to get autographs, chat for a moment with the actors if we were lucky, and keep our eyes on our watches to get the train back to the suburbs on time.
Who knew I’d end up in LA where plays are the norm, all the time! It’s all these actors prancing and aching to do what they were born to. Nowadays I often get comped, but to see a good play, and then actually know some of the actors in it…well, part of me is still thrilled.
This was a complicated drawing, and took me a long time. Notice how odd some of the dogs are. I had to research different breeds, because who wants to draw generic dogs? But that didn’t always help me figure out how to draw them in action! The perspective of the alley is a little forced, but it works, and I think this feels like a real back door. I copied the font and logo that the Cats musical uses for the poster, and put it in twice, just in case you missed it the first time. What a nice guard/doorman. I wonder if he’ll buy their story?
Here’s my trusty theme of possible mayhem, as evidenced by the growls and snarls! Henri Cartier-Bresson talked about the defining moment in his photos. Surely that would include whether or not a dog/cat fight would start.
I haven’t sold this YET. But obviously if I do a cartoon about theater, I’m hoping the New Yorker will fall in love with it! It’s SO right for the New Yorker. I hate them, but that’s another post.