The Architecture of the Self

Who AM I? It’s a question I ask myself every time I sit down to draw a comic. For decades I’ve explored the page in the form of my cartoon avatar, a long-sleeved, noodle-armed, dot-eyed everyperson. He’s a bit like Tintin—except the mysteries are never solved.

Certain aspects of my illustrated self repeat: I’m always writing, often distracted, and frequently confused. I can’t decide whether I’m retreading familiar territory in my work or failing to draw a strong connection between each piece.

Do you ever wake up in the morning feeling like a completely different person than you were when you went to sleep? It’s like this for me in art and life. Maybe this “I” that I struggle to portray is an illusion?

These moments of self-transcendence are extremely rare. Nature helps. So does going on a very long run. I’ve heard psychedelic drugs are a shortcut to such a state, but my appetites are pretty tame: French press coffee and craft IPAs only induce fleeting moments of enlightenment.

Maybe I’m stuck with myself and my illusions.

Thankfully, paradox is a fascinating place. I plan explore it for as long as I can hold a pen.

And if I need a break from self-exploration, there’s an equally interesting and mysterious topic to consider: the inner lives of other people.

Who I am may be entirely dependent on the people around me. It’s a strange but comforting thought. On the page and in real life, no person is an island.

For more introspective comics, check out my latest collection THE ART OF LIVING: REFLECTIONS ON MINDFULNESS AND THE OVEREXAMINED LIFE.