when I paint my masterpiece

Let's get something straight. I don't draw for you. I draw for me. I draw purely for my own amusement. Sure, I have that little ad on my illustration website where I offer to draw a portrait for a nominal fee. But, be assured that I will be getting way more enjoyment out of it than you ever will. 

I have been drawing since I was a little kid. As would be expected, my style has changed considerably over these many years. A lot of that change, I will admit, has been forced. That's right. I make a conscious effort to change my style. Sometimes, it's based on another artist's influence. Sometimes I change out of boredom. I don't like to keep drawing things the same way over and over again. I like to see if I can draw differently. See? All for my own amusement.

I am also my own worse critic. I am very critical of my drawings. I have done thousands of drawings during my lifetime and I have probably thrown away a comparable amount to those I have shown to other people. I have posted over 1500 drawings on my illustration website since 2006. There have been many, many more that never saw the light of day because I didn't think they were good. I know I have posted some that aren't great, but the ones you've never seen? Trust me..... they were awful.

Along the way, I have done some drawings that have really pissed some people off. I know this, because they took the time to email me and tell me what a terrible, horrible no-talent hack of an artist I am. Some have told me that I have no business calling myself an artist. In some cases, I would tend to agree, but I have made a living in the field of graphic design for over 35 years, so I'm either doing something right or I have only worked for people who wouldn't know good art if it whacked them in the head. (There's another idea for a blog post right there.) One reader once emailed to tell me (and I quote): You suck as an artist too. Find something new to sketch like going back to trees, a-hole.

Priceless!

I actually love those sorts of comments. Sure, I like the praise and the ones that tell me how talented I am, but I relish the emails from folks who were so offended by something I drew that they were driven to put it into a lengthy message. Little do they know that its fairly difficult to insult me and my silly artwork. I don't take any of it seriously and, like I said, I have already critiqued it with more scrutiny that you can imagine.

In 2016, I began a feature on my illustration blog called "Dead Celebrity Spotlight." This sub-category combines three of my favorite things — drawing, dead celebrities and storytelling. Kicking things off on January 1 with a portrait of actor Edward G. Robinson, I have told the tales of over 200 folks who fit just two criteria — they're dead and they're a celebrity. And, believe me, "celebrity" is used in a pretty broad sense. I have done my very best to spin interesting stories of the famous, the not-so-famous, the unsung and the notorious. I have also tried to rush out a drawing as quickly as I can when a celebrity of note passes. Doing this usually entails a frantic drive home from work, my head filled with various layouts of how I will present the deceased subject. Then I bound up two flights of stairs to my third-floor drawing table, where I sketch out a quick pencil drawing. Then I ink it in with an appropriate weight of Micron or brush pen (that's art talk). Finally, I scan it to my computer, where I import it into Photoshop and color it (if I decide that color is appropriate for the subject). When the drawing and coloring are completed to my liking, I quickly research and write about the celebrity, trying to find an obscure anecdote or maybe I'll relate a personal experience. Then, I hit the ol' "Publish" button and it's posted. I will then cross-post it on my Facebook page and Instagram. (I've also gotten into the habit of making a little Instagram story with enhancements and music.... again, for my own amusement.) Soon, a small flurry of folks give me a "thumbs up" or a "heart" or even that little "shocked face" emoji in response to my drawing. Of course, there have been some who are so totally offended by what I have drawn or written, they feel compelled to let me know how badly I am shitting up the internet and my efforts would be better used elsewhere, besides a so-called "creative" capacity.

Case in point.....

The one you didn't see.

On Monday, May 13th, Doris Day passed away. I loved Doris Day. I loved everything about Doris Day. I loved her movies. I loved her singing. I loved her lame TV series in the 70s. I loved her interviews with a leering Johnny Carson on The Tonight Show. I loved the fact that she just decided to up and abandon the spotlight in 1986 after the abrupt cancellation of her own talk show Doris Day's Best Friends. Doris Day was a top box office star throughout the 60s, an Academy Award-nominated actress and a Grammy-honored singer until she ditched her public life to spend her remaining days walking her dog through the gardens of the bed & breakfast she co-owned with her son (the late record producer Terry Melcher) in Carmel, California. I felt an obligation to pay tribute to her in the best way I knew.... by drawing her portrait.

When I got home from work on May 13th, I scoured the internet for the perfect picture of Doris Day on which to base my drawing. I went through dozens (not an exaggeration) until I selected one. I hurriedly did a line drawing from the photo and I frowned.  I didn't like it. It didn't look like Doris Day. I studied my drawing and I studied the reference photo and I came to the conclusion that pretty Doris Day is pretty difficult to draw. 

Nailing likenesses is not an easy thing. As an artist, you've got to focus on particular features to emphasize. Sure, Doris Day is remembered for her blond hair and her radiant smile, but a lot of actresses have blond hair and radiant smiles. Doris Day had unmistakable looks, but nothing specific. Nothing uniquely Doris Day stands out about Doris Day.

The one you did see.

I selected another photo and went through the same process. This one was a little bit better likeness, but I was still unable to capture her like I wanted. "Screw it!," I thought, "I'm coloring this one and I'll be done with it." I began the procedure of coloring in Photoshop. Layering. Lightening. Sharpening. Blurring. All the standard techniques I put into a Photoshop illustration. Usually, during this process, the likeness becomes more and more apparent. Usually..... but not this time. I just wasn't getting it. Mrs. P, whose desk and computer is a foot or so away from me, usually turns to take a peek at what I am working on and identifies my subject (if she knows who it is. Some of my subjects are pretty obscure) within seconds. Sometimes, however, it takes her a bit longer and she has to ask "Who is that?" This was one of those times. She remarked that I didn't quite capture Doris Day. And she was right.

But I wanted to finish and, despite knowing full well that this was not my best work, I posted it. When it showed up on my Facebook page, I received the expected reaction. Some "hearts." Some "crying" emojis. Even some "thumbs up," which I assume was for my drawing not an approval of the death of 97-year-old Doris Day. Then I got a comment from Wayne Buna.

I do not know Wayne Buna. He is just one of (at current count) 276 people who "like" the official Josh Pincus is Crying Facebook page. I can only assume that this group likes my drawings, my daily posts of celebrity death anniversaries and my overall skewed sense of humor. Wayne, as it appears, is not a fan of all of my drawings. Actually, Wayne fancies himself a qualified art critic. Wayne took one look at my illustration of Doris Day and was so outraged, so offended, he was prompted to let me know his true feelings, along with a professional assessment of my talent. Wayne — dear, dear Wayne — told me: "That sketch looks nothing like Doris Day. It's in poor taste."

You think I don't already know this, Wayne? I wrestled with this illustration for hours, as well as the one I did before it — the one you never saw. I realize that I didn't quite capture the sweetness, the allure, the appeal of the beloved Doris Day. I tried. God damn, did I try! I just couldn't get the lines on the page to duplicate what I saw in my mind. Sometimes that happens. It's the kind of thing that drove Jackson Pollack to drink and Vincent Van Gogh to cut off his ear. Is it a great drawing? No. I'll be the first one to admit that it's not one of my best. (Did you see the one I did of Amy Winehouse? I thought that was pretty good. And my illustration of obscure French actress Renée Adorée was one I personally liked.) But... in poor taste? I don't agree with that at all. I should know. I've done plenty of drawings that could be deemed "in poor taste," but the drawing I did of Doris Day? I don't think so. Back in 2008, I used to contribute to an illustration blog whose admin reprimanded me about this drawing I submitted. While I still maintain it is not in poor taste, the guy who ran the blog thought otherwise. But, come on.... my feeble attempt at trying to capture the essence of Doris Day was failed, sure.... but "in poor taste?" Please! (On Instagram, a friend commented on the unnatural look of Doris Day's cheeks in my depiction. "Squirrel cheeks" I believe were the words that were used. Okay! Okay! I get it!)

Happily, Mrs. Pincus — my biggest fan — came to my defense. She called out Mr. Buna, citing his comment as uncalled for and demanding to see if he could do any better. As the time of writing this blog post, Mr. Buna has not answered the challenge.

Well, another celebrity had died since Doris Day's passing, plus I have a bunch of ideas for more drawings in the queue. This little episode will all be forgotten soon enough. Unless, of course, someone doesn't like my take on Tim Conway....

That illustration is dedicated to you, Wayne.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

hollywood swinging

Last week, as you may recall, I wrote a rambling, near incoherent piece (I know, I know...that describes most of my writing) about the Mid-Atlantic Nostalgia Convention (MANC), the annual gathering of all things pop culture from the innocent days of my youth, as well as a contingency of representative celebrities from the same era.

This show marks the first time that I attended one of these shows that I did not purchase a single autographed photo. Instead, I approached each celebrity (with a few exceptions), offered words of praise and presented them with color print of one of eight drawings I did especially for this show. It turns out that — believe it or not — celebrities are people just like you and me. Every one has his or her own unique personality. Some are nice. Some are not. Here are the reactions I got from some of this years' special guests:

Ricou Browning. Sure, the name may not sound familiar, but this guy has had quite a career. Starting out performing  in and producing entertainment at Florida's Weeki Wachee water park, Ricou was recruited to star as the terrifying "Gill Man" in Universal Pictures classic Creature from the Black Lagoon, as well as its two sequels. Ricou, who is now the only living actor to have portrayed one of the Universal Monsters, performed all of the underwater scenes while another actor played the dry-land version of the title character. Ricou was also a stuntman and stunt coordinator for films and television shows, including Gentle Ben, Sea Hunt, The Aquanauts and Flipper, a series he created. He was the second unit director for Thunderball, Caddyshack and one of the Police Academy franchises. He served as director for the family films Hello Down There, Salty and the cult favorite Mr. No Legs. Now 87, the once barrel-chested robust Ricou is a small, gentle man who accepted my rendering of his classic role with grace and heartfelt appreciation. Ricou's daughter, who accompanied her father at the show, expressed equal gratitude.

Diahann Carroll. The Tony Award-winning actress and singer can look back on her career with great pride. She was nominated for an Academy Award for the title role in the 1974 film Claudine. She starred in the groundbreaking television series Julia in the late 1960s, a role for which she earned a Golden Globe. Diahann has worked with Sammy Davis Jr., Paul Newman, James Earl Jones, Sidney Poitier and many others, She was married to singer Vic Damone for ten years. When I presented Ms. Carroll, now 83, with a drawing depicting her from an early time in her career, she seemed distracted, commenting that "short hair styles were nice." Otherwise, her reaction was fairly indifferent.

Ed Begley Jr. The lanky blond actor is familiar to most people for his portrayal of "Dr. Victor Ehrlich" in the NBC medical drama St. Elsewhere. Since then, Ed has appeared in dozens of TV series and films, bringing a touch of quirky humor to each role. I approached his table at MANC during a slow period and found the actor sitting alone with his hands folded like a schoolboy. When I handed him a glossy print of his deadpan visage as the aforementioned Dr. Ehrlich, he offered a quiet — nearly whispered — "thank you." Then, when I explained that I did the drawing, his fair eyebrows arched and his pale brow wrinkled. "You're very talented." he continued in a doleful monotone.

Kristy McNichol. Known for her Emmy-winning role as "Buddy" Lawrence on the ABC drama "Family," Kristy drew critical acclaim throughout her career. As one of the most popular teen stars of her era, she appeared in theatrical and television films, as well as a co-starring role on five seasons of the sitcom "Empty Nest," and guest appearances on other episodic television. In 2001, she abruptly announced her retirement from acting, much to the disappointment of her fans. Kristy devoted her new-found time to charity work and teaching acting. At the age of 50, she came out as a lesbian in hopes of showing support to younger people who are bullied because of their sexuality. Kristy was very receptive and warm as I handed her the drawing did. She smiled and laughed when I told her I saw Little Darlings in the theater when it was released in 1980.

Trina Parks. An accomplished singer, dancer and choreographer, statuesque beauty Trina Parks has the distinction of being the first African-American "Bond Girl." Her uncredited portrayal of "Thumper," one of the villainous "Blofeld's" cronies was brief but crucial in the plot of 1971's Diamonds Are Forever and forever tagged her as the answer to a pretty cool piece of pop culture trivia. She was also featured in a few "blaxploitation" movies in the 70s, as well as dancing on several variety shows and specials. I waited patiently while a gaggle of lumbering MANC employees gathered around Ms. Parks's table, arranging themselves and snapping pictures without regard for other convention attendees who were also waiting for the opportunity to speak with the actress. When they finally cleared away, I gave Trina a drawing and her face lit up. She complimented me over and over again. I mentioned to her that my wife and I caught her recent appearance of the revival of To Tell the Truth, where she was presented along with two impostors as the game's objective of choosing who was the "Bond Girl." She told me that she was originally contacted by the show's producers with the premise of having the panel guess who was the first African-American "Bond Girl." She further explained when she arrived for the taping, expecting to find two other black girls, she was told plans had changed and the ethnicity aspect was scrapped. Admittedly, I am not a big fan of the James Bond series. I don't think I ever saw Diamonds are Forever, so I was not familiar with Ms. Parks's role at all. However, she was so sweet and engaging that our little tête-à-tête was an unexpected and welcome high point of the afternoon.

Morgan Fairchild. Born Patsy Ann McClenny in Dallas, Texas, aspiring actress Morgan Fairchild landed her first screen role as a double for Faye Dunaway in Bonnie and Clyde. Miss Dunaway could do a lot of things, but she shouldn't drive a stick shift. That's where young Morgan's talents first emerged. She went on to make numerous appearances in episodic television, usually handling the type-cast requirements of a conniving vixen. Morgan was a regular on the nighttime soap operas Flamingo Road, Falcon Crest and Paper Dolls. She made a number of made-for-television and theatrical films, including her poker-faced cameo on Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. She was the epitome of over-the-top 80s glamour. Unfortunately, that look does not bode well in 2018. Morgan was cordial when I greeted her with a drawing. Her hulky assistant, however, seemed a bit over-protective, but Morgan (who was surprisingly much shorter of stature than I expected) daintily shook my hand and demurely thanked me for my artistic efforts.

Robert Wagner and Stefanie Powers. The TV power "couple" from ultra-cool detective series Hart to Hart were sequestered in their own, guarded area of the convention floor, curiously treated like royalty. Robert Wagner, now approaching his ninetieth year, was seated behind his table, looking fittingly dashing in an open collar and ascot — begging the question "Does anyone besides fading movie stars wear those things?" I brazenly jockeyed my way past the preoccupied security to the edge of his table as an assistant extended a cautionary arm in my direction. "Mr. Wagner is about to attend a Q & A session," he warned. I explained that I merely wanted to gush a little "fan appreciation" and give him a drawing that I had done. Despite graying temples and few crow's feet, Robert Wagner still displays the rugged good-looks that brought him modest notoriety for over fifty years and 148 IMDB credits. He examined my drawing and scowled. He poked an accusatory finger at his likeness and spat, "You made me look like Kirk Douglas!" I offered an embarrassed grin and replied, "Well, you do look like Kirk Douglas!" What I should have said was: "At least I didn't help Christopher Walken kill my wife."... but I didn't wish to cause a scene. As I turned my attention to Stefanie Power's direction, I saw Mr. Wagner drop my drawing on the floor behind his chair.

Wagner's co-star, the lovely Stefanie Powers certainly lacks the sex appeal she exuded in the single season of the spy series The Girl from U.N.C.L.E., but at 75 she looks pretty darn good — kind of like those ladies you see power-walking in the early morning hours around the blacktop track at one of those over-50 gated communities. When I gave Stefanie a duplicate drawing of my Hart to Hart piece, she responded with a polar opposite reaction from her co-star. She literally squealed with delight and showed it around to a group of her travelling companions. She shot me a big smile and thanked me. That made up for Robert Wagner's arrogance.

Tim Reid, Howard Hesseman and Jan Smithers. Three stars of the ensemble cast of the 70s sitcom WKRP in Cincinnati were in attendance. Previously-announced and confirmed Loni Anderson had to back out at the last minute. The trio was even further removed from the festivities, as a lengthy queue line was carefully metered for nearly the entire day. Access to their cordoned-off area was tough. However, just as Mrs. Pincus and I had decided to call it a day, I made one last attempt to gain access to the stars of the radio industry sitcom. At this late hour, the line had dissipated and Tim Reid was just sitting at his table fiddling with his phone. I walked up to him, introduced myself and told him I was a fan of all of his work. I quickly scanned his selection of photographs to remind myself of his post-WKRP projects. He chuckled when I told him I even liked his work in the TV mini series of Stephen King's It. I gave him a drawing and he seemed amused as he shook my hand. Tim returned to the pressing matter of his phone as I turned to my right and spotted an ancient-looking bedraggled Howard Hesseman and a frail-looking, gray-tressed Jan Smithers. I felt they didn't need to hear my praise and could do without my silly drawing. I decided I was finished for the day.

Two additional guests that cancelled in the eleventh hour were I Dream of Jeannie star Barbara Eden and Hollywood Squares host Peter Marshall. Mr. Marshall had an emergency family commitment to attend to. Ms. Eden, as we were told, was spooked by the on-coming Hurricane Florence. Signs posted around the convention expressed their regrets and pledged a make-up visit in 2019. I sure hope so because I did drawings of them too. I just hope they don't appear in my "Dead Celebrity Spotlight" before I get the opportunity.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

make a circuit with me

I draw. I draw a lot. I have been drawing for a very long time. When I was a kid, every spare piece of paper, napkin, notebook, scratch pad and cardboard in our house was covered with the little scribbled pictures that sprouted from my imagination. For years, the only way anyone could see my drawings was to come in close proximity to the refrigerator in our kitchen, which, at times, resembled a magnet-adorned Louvre that also kept the family's food cold. My mother, the curator of the Josh Pincus collection, regularly rotated my drawings on the refrigerator door, carefully archiving examples from my earlier periods in order to display the latest in my portfolio. Of course, the bulk of those sketches were lost when my parents passed away and the contents of their house was dispersed. And by "dispersed," I, of course, mean "sent to a dumpster." Some of my post-adolescent works were salvaged, though. The body of work I produced during my four years in art school were housed in my basement for some time, until several drenching rainstorms and burst pipe rendered the entire collection soaked, mold-covered and, thereby, ruined.

Well, eleven years ago this month, I discovered a new outlet where I could put my drawings on display — the internet! As a regular contributor to Illustration Friday, an art blog that issues a weekly drawing challenge, I decided to gather all of my drawings in one convenient spot for all the world to see. That central location is Josh Pincus is Crying that you've all come to know and love... or loathe, as the individual case may be. In addition to the weekly Illustration Friday posting, I have supplemented the content with stories from my youth and seasonal illustrations (like the annual Inktober challenge, a month-long celebration of monochrome drawings defined by the inked line, computer-generated or otherwise). Sprinkled throughout my illustration blog is the subject matter which has generated the most buzz and has gained me a small (very small) following as well as a macabre reputation. Of course, I am speaking of my love — and borderline obsession — with dead celebrities. Portraits of deceased celebrities  — both globally famous and unsung — make up a good portion of the posting on my blog. Recently, I even created a searchable category called "Dead Celebrity Spotlight" for which I post a new illustration and accompanying story every Friday morning.

First contact.

Over the decade-plus that I have maintained this blog, I've been contacted by folks who share (or at least claim to share) a connection to the subject of several drawings I have done. The first, and most notorious in the annals of the JPiC blog, came in April 2008 when I received an angry email from a fellow who was quite offended by my drawing and tale of Peg Entwistle. Peg, a nascent young actress who faced disappointment in the early days of Hollywood, leaped from the top of the "H" in the famed Hollywood sign, plunging forty-four feet to her death. My accuser was critical of nearly every aspect of my drawing (he said I was "sick") and my story (he pointed out discrepancies in times, days and locations). He even accused me of plagiarism. Prior to his barrage of emails, I had never heard of him. I gathered information from creative commons sources and other repositories of royalty-free content. This fellow was not satisfied by my calm and civil replies. He threatened me with lawsuits while he spewed the filthiest of insults at me, my work and my skills. He eventually gave up, but I got a great story.

Second contact.

Soon after the "Peg Entwistle" incident (as it has come to be known), I was contacted by another angry reader who didn't care for my portrayal of session drummer Jim Gordon. Gordon, for the uninformed or non-readers of my blog, was a member of a roster of musicians collectively known as "The Wrecking Crew." This revolving group of instrumentalists surrounding a core group of members performed, uncredited, on thousands of hit songs throughout the 1960s and 70s. Gordon was also a member of Derek and the Dominos, the blues-rock band fronted by Eric Clapton. Gordon composed and performed the iconic outro on the the classic song "Layla." He also beat his mother with a hammer and stabbed her to death with a butcher knife. He currently resides in a psychiatric prison in Vacaville, California. Someone identifying herself as "Layla Gordon" emailed me to express her displeasure with my drawing and story about Gordon and his fellow Wrecking Crew drummer Hal Blaine. "Layla" insulted my talent, corrected my knowledge, questioned my research and cursed my existence. I replied in the most polite and even-tempered manner, only to be subjected to salvo number two (and eventually three). I chronicled our exchange in another post on my blog and was soon contacted by a different woman, this one offering a more sympathetic tone. Emailer Number Two explained that my original antagonizer had threatened her in the same way she threatened me. This compassionate ally identified herself as the spouse of one of Jim Gordon's band mates and a quick Google search confirmed her claim. She also requested that I keep our conversation confidential. I guess I just broke that promise.

Third contact.

In March 2008, I spun the grisly tale of Edward Hickman, a 20-year-old disgruntled bank employee who abducted, murdered and dismembered his boss's 12-year-old daughter. Hickman was tried and, despite one of California's first "insanity pleas," was executed at San Quentin Prison in 1928. I admit I told the story in lurid detail, but that's how I do things when I feel the subject warrants it. It's that "life ain't always pretty" philosophy that inspires me sometimes. Nearly four months after I published that story, I was contacted by another Edward Hickman, first with comments left on the post, then via email. This Edward claimed to be the murderer's nephew. He actually complimented my drawing of his relative. He also alleged that his uncle was remorseful of his actions, a claim I could not corroborate in all of my research. A month or so later the younger Edward reached out to me again, asking for a high-resolution image of my drawing. I happily complied and made a few bucks on the transaction.

Fourth contact.

In 2012, I briefly chronicled the life of Max Manning, a beloved sixth-grade teacher at a school in southern New Jersey. Manning, unbeknown to his devoted students, was a star player in the Negro Leagues in the 1940s. A victim of racial discrimination at the hands of the Detroit Tigers, Manning ended up pitching for the Newark Eagles. His stellar on-field performance helped the Eagles overcome the mighty Kansas City Monarchs to win the 1946 Negro League World Series. With no chance of playing in the segregated big leagues and faced with the responsibility of providing for his family, Max walked away from baseball. He attended Glassboro State College on the GI Bill and graduated with a teaching degree. He taught at Pleasantville Elementary School for 28 years until his retirement. The summer after I published Max's story, I received a comment on the post from Belinda Manning, Max's grown daughter. Belinda admitted that, during a bout of insomnia, she "googled" her father's name and was directed to my blog. She praised my rendering of her dad and lauded my account of his life. Belinda maintains her own blog where she expounds on her family history and the history of the Pleasantville/Atlantic City, New Jersey area. She also touches on instances of social and racial injustice.

Fifth contact.

Back in October 2017, as part of my "Dead Celebrity Spotlight" series, I wrote and illustrated another hard-luck story. This one was about Leona Gage, a hopeful actress and disgraced beauty pageant contestant. Leona led a sad and troubled life, filled with tough breaks, poor decisions and bad advice. Just yesterday, I got a comment on the blog post. It was just three words: "That's my mother." Then, the same fellow sent a message on my Facebook page. His Facebook message was a bit longer. It read: "You drew an interesting picture of my mother Leona Gage. Thanks for the story." I replied with a thank you and then spent the next twenty or so minutes engaged in a sweet and insightful conversation with him, touching on my love of the Golden Age of Hollywood and my penchant for cemetery visits. Soon, he was revealing insight into his mother's life that were not present in any article or clipping I uncovered in my research for the original piece. I researched him a bit and discovered that, based on his uncommon last name and the fact that I made no mention of his father's name in my story, this guy must be who he says he is. After all, if you're going to make a "claim of fame," why would you reference someone so obscure? I thanked him for the information and for his kind words about my artwork.

These little encounters are a testament to the power and reach of the internet. I suppose it also confirms that there's always someone, somewhere, who'll read and react to stuff I write.

Maybe you'll see a loved one depicted in a JPIC drawing before too long. Who knows? Wait.... I know.

You can get you very own Josh Pincus is Crying custom portrait.
CLICK HERE for details.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

i love the dead

With so much going on in the world — so many important topics up for discussion and debate — I thought I'd focus on a subject that holds the utmost importance to me.

Me.

Specifically, my wonderful and turbulent relationship with the internet. Over a decade ago, I entered the world of the World Wide Web when I published the first entry* on joshpincusiscrying.com, my illustration blog. My blog consisted mostly of entries for the weekly challenge posted on Illustration Friday, a sort-of community of artists from all over the world. Illustration Friday offers a single word of inspiration and allows artists a week to interpret that word until the next Friday brings a new word. I have actively participated in this process for eleven-plus years, never missing a single week (even when Illustration Friday missed a few themselves). I began small, hesitant to post anything controversial, fearful of editorializing, expressing my opinions or — gulp! — causing a stir. In between my weekly drawings, I began to create drawings of my own inspiration, under the category title "from my sketchbook."  But, over time, I began to inject some of my unorthodox sense of humor that has become the unofficial Josh Pincus trademark. 

In 2008, I posted this drawing of aspiring actress Peg Entwistle, who met an untimely demise in 1932. A distraught Peg, weary of the cruel treatment she received from film executives who crushed her glittery dreams of stardom, flung herself from the top of the massive "H" in the famed "Hollywood" sign that loomed over Tinsel Town. My illustration pissed a reader off so much that he contacted me with a series of threatening emails. I was so pleased that someone took that much time and effort with something that I created, I couldn't have been more flattered. As an artist, as far as I'm concerned, there is no such thing as bad publicity. I would rather have my art evoke anger than joy. Anger is a much stronger and more passionate emotion. 

But it didn't end there. I was reprimanded by the admin of another illustration website. I received more threatening emails regarding a drawing I did of session drummer/convicted murderer Jim Gordon. I pissed off a fellow artist who accused me of being a bully. The list goes on and it's all documented under the "About" tab on my blog's homepage.

In 2008, I joined Twitter, which — depending how you look at it — was the best or worst thing I could have ever done. Twitter became the ideal place for Josh Pincus to flourish. It became an outlet for  my jokes, commentary, sarcasm and stream-of-consciousness thought. To date, I have logged over 55,000 tweets. It's a wonder I ever get any work done. Soon, I began to promote my drawings on Twitter. I gained more followers and widened my audience, although, I maintain, that I draw primarily for my own amusement.

Troublemaker

Last year, while looking to amp up my illustration output from what had dwindled to just one per week, I began a new series on my illustration blog. I kicked off 2016 by posting the first drawing in my series I decided to call "Dead Celebrity Spotlight." As I stated in the premiere entry, this would marry two of my prime interests: drawing and celebrities who had passed on. The "drawing" part was obvious. I have been drawing since I was a child. The "dead celebrity" part stems from my love of old Hollywood, chock full of obscure tales of fleeting fame and spectacular deaths and my affinity for visiting cemeteries (yeah, I do that). So, after drawing and writing about a different dead celebrity (some that you recognize, some that you hardly even heard of) every week for an entire year, I continued the series into the current year, adding some special "mid-week" entries as the news of the passing of a beloved and renowned public figure broke. There are (as of right now) one hundred and twelve drawings and stories in the Dead Celebrity Spotlight series. I plan to keep posting new ones every Friday. I hope they garner the reaction that my most recent post achieved.

Early Friday morning, I woke up at 5:45 and, after showering and brushing my teeth and warming up the Keurig, I lumbered up to the third floor of my house to post the daily celebrity death anniversaries on the Josh Pincus Facebook fan page. Then, before heading back downstairs for a cup of coffee, a bowl of Raisin Bran and a couple of episodes of The Andy Griffith Show prior to catching my morning train, I selected a draft from the backlog library of "Dead Celebrity Spotlight" section of my blog to publish. This day, I chose a personal observation of teen idol David Cassidy, whose death just last week at a youthful 67 shocked and saddened a generation of fans who grew up watching and loving him on The Partridge Family. My drawing and commentary went live at 6:19 AM and, little did I know, all hell was about to break loose. My tweet, which is set up to automatically generate from Facebook, got some "likes," some "retweets," and some "replies" — one of which was quite displeased by my sentiment.

A Twitter user named Mar offered this reply:

In typical Josh Pincus fashion, I responded:

I thought this was funny enough to post as a screenshot on my Facebook page as well.

Later, another angered Twitter user, suspiciously calling herself  "Laurie," perhaps as an homage to Susan Dey, David Cassidy's TV sister on the 70s sitcom, expressed her displeasure at the choice of terms I used as the title of my illustration series (on my blog).

This one was puzzling. Was she offended? Really? It's not like I said "Croaked Celebrities," or "Celebrities Now Residing in Box City," or "Lifestyles of the Rotting and Famous," or any number of other derogatory euphemisms for "The Great Beyond." "Dead" is a perfectly good, non-offensive word. Funeral directors, doctors, newscasters, even your mother ("Oh dear, I just heard from Fannie that Milton is dead.") use it all the time. 

So, not being one to drop things until they are thoroughly beaten into submission, I questioned:

Laurie replied:

But the criteria for inclusion in this series is the celebrity has to be dead. Not for any particular length of time, just dead. I have done drawings of celebrities within minutes of the announcement of their death (former Phillies pitcher Roy Halladay comes to mind). I tried to stress this in 140 characters or less, but my confusion hindered my ability to be as articulate as I would have liked. Instead, I returned this:

Her brief retort popped up almost immediately, followed by what is commonly known as  a "kiss-off:"

And, just like that, she was gone. Her portion of the debate ended. Her final summation delivered. As Archie Bunker often proclaimed: "Case closed!"

When I was compiling screenshots to compose this entry on It's Been a Slice, I was met by this message when I visited "Laurie's" Twitter account page:

Now we're talking. Or... maybe we're not.

I said it before, and I'll say it again: Oh, do I love the internet!

* Ironically, that initial entry, in March 2007, featured an illustration of Bill Cosby, whose shattered career has been chronicled in recent headlines. How prophetic of me. I think.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

My annual Christmas music compilation is available as a 
FREE DOWNLOAD 
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This year, it’s a whopping 81 minutes worth of pure Christmas cacophony that’s sure to ruin your holiday celebration within seconds. Need to clear your house of unwanted guest who have overstayed their holiday welcome? Download this compilation, crank it up and watch those ungrateful freeloaders head for the door. (You may even follow them.)
 You get twenty-seven eclectic Christmas selections that run the gamut from weird to really weird plus a custom full-color cover with track listings – all for you and all for FREE! (That’s right! FREE!)

(Please contact me if you have trouble with the download.)

www.joshpincusiscrying.com