Dear Lord, I’ve been asked, nay commanded, to thank Thee for the Christmas turkey before us…
BERKELEY BREATHEDIt was a huge challenge to learn digital painting well enough so that computers don’t pop into mind when one sees one.
More Berkeley Breathed Quotes
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I happen to think nearly everybody – especially those one might find in the odd issue of ‘People’ magazine, including me – is frightfully boring, especially me. And Tom Cruise. Tom and I are alike in only this way.
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I could draw Bloom County with my nose and pay my cleaning lady to write it, and I’d bet I wouldn’t lose 10% of my papers over the next twenty years. Such is the nature of comic-strips. Once established, their half-life is usually more than nuclear waste.
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I’ll confess right here that I secretly wish I’d have drawn a strip about a little boy with a fake tiger, going for adventures throughout the universe in spaceships of his imagination.
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Doonesbury had the requisite and overwhelming influence in 1980, as it did on any college cartoonist who was paying attention, of course.
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I ignore Hallmark Holidays. And this comes from a guy who has sold a million Opus greeting cards.
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The fan letters were mostly answered by professional people that’d done them for a living. And I didn’t have any daily connection with their response to my work. I didn’t have a relationship with my audience. And every artist should have it.
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I’d be a Libertarian, if they weren’t all a bunch of tax-dodging professional whiners.
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Harry Potter’ shouldn’t be children’s first experience with suspense and plot turns.
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I knew ‘Mars Needs Moms! ‘ would be a movie seconds after the title came to mind. Similarly, I also knew that my daughter would be calling me a dork as a default term of endearment eventually.
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I don’t get fan mail. It disappeared with the digital revolution.
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He comic page is dying; I didn’t want to go with it.
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If you’ll read the subtext for many of those old strips, you’ll find the heart of an old-fashioned Libertarian. And I’d be a Libertarian, if they weren’t all a bunch of tax-dodging professional whiners.
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I drew the last image ever of Opus at midnight while Puccini was playing and I got rather stupid. Thirty years. A bit like saying goodbye to a child – which is ironic because I was never, never sentimental about him as many of his fans were.
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I paint digitally now. A pity, in some ways, as the biggest price one pays is that you no longer have a finished piece of physical art to hang on a wall. I miss that terribly.
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It’s never too late to have a happy childhood.
BERKELEY BREATHED