Happy 100th to The New Yorker
And some of my favorite cartoons
As you may have heard, The New Yorker magazine just turned 100 years old, barely edging out the mysterious tin-foiled object in the back of my freezer. The magazine has meant many things to many people. Some grew up with it — this esoteric weekly tome of text and cartoons sitting on the coffee table. Others stumbled upon it later in life, like I did. Well, to be fair, I knew about The New Yorker; it existed as a tidbit of data among the flotsam and jetsam of the East Coast zeitgeist through which I swam. But I didn’t read it, or even hold a copy, until I was older.
Credit to my mother, all those years ago, for listening to an NPR interview with Bob Mankoff, The New Yorker cartoon editor at the time, as they were coming out with a 75th anniversary cartoon collection. My mom donated some money to NPR, and they sent us a Mankoff signed copy of said collection. I read it through with increasing levels of excitement, which culminated in a tiny voice in the back of my head whispering, “you can do this.”
It took ten years from that point to when I sold my first cartoon, in 2012. I drew it after a summer roadtrip with friends out West as we wound through the sweat-wicking states of Nevada, Utah, Arizona, and Wyoming. Every time we stepped out of the car onto baking pavement, I said, “It’s hot, but it’s a dry heat,” with the ever-growing enthusiasm of a five-year-old who stumbles upon a phrase that annoys their parents a bit more each time it’s uttered.
My friends almost left me at the Grand Canyon. But that memory came back to me months later, and I drew this:
And The New Yorker bought it. “I’m in!” I said to myself. It felt great. It felt amazing. I wish I could say the rest was history, but is it ever history? It took me another year to sell my second cartoon. I also had to learn how much harder I needed to work to keep going after I started finding success.
Nevertheless, here I am. I had a cartoon (the caption contest) in The New Yorker’s Centennial issue, which I held in my own hands at The New Yorker’s Centennial celebration. Twenty Five years ago, I held the 75th Anniversary cartoon collection and thought, maybe?
This is me at the party with my cartoon, in a very red-lit room. I even wore a suit.
In another post, I’d love to explore how to balance ambition with enjoying the ride, which for me is a struggle. But for now, I’ll leave you with some of my favorite cartoons that have run in The New Yorker over the years, in all their various levels of copy-and-pastedness.
And there you have it. I’m still processing the other events over the course of The New Yorker’s Centennial weekend, organized by Zoe Si and Ngozi Ukazu. Nothing better than hanging out with cartoonists. You can read about it hear, from Zoe, and here, from Jason Chatfield.
Drawing for The New Yorker has opened up the world for me, and I am forever grateful to my editors Bob Mankoff, Emma Allen, David Remnick, and the whole team over there. And all my fellow cartoonists as well. You make this thing we do fun and worthwhile. Also, thank you to my mom and dad! You got me there to begin with, duh!
Oh, and of course, thank you to you.
Have a great weekend!
-Avi
Classics all. Thanks for the laughs.
Where would we be without you? 🤔🤣