Blast from the past

In 2012, just a few months before my son was born, I was trying to squeeze one last project in. I had registered for SF Zinefest in the fall and needed a book fast. So I had this idea sometime in May that I would do something simple (you know where this is going) and fast. I would do an 8 page book that was all color and all short comics. Each comic would be 1-4 panels. It would be fun. It would be easy. I’d crash the book out and kick back with a nice stiff drink waiting for my son to show up.

Well, I did finish the book, The Business of Monkeys nr. 2, but it wasn’t easy or fast. I hand painted the whole thing which turned out to be really hard to deal with in terms of getting the color just right. I drew all the panels first and hoped great ideas would come to me. The short form is not that easy, turns out and sometimes it’s harder to say more with less. But I finished the book, got it off to the printer and by July I was a parent.

A couple of weeks ago I got an email from Noah over at Zineomatic saying he bought The Business of Monkeys nr. 2 at Mission Comics in San Francisco. What?! Leef (owner and amazing human at Mission Comics) still had a copy? Unbelievable. Anyhow, Noah said he wanted 200 copies for his zine subscription. “No problem!” I said. But there was a problem. We had just moved to Montpelier, VT and everything (I mean EVERYTHING) was in boxes. He needed them fast and when I finally found the comics I realized I didn’t have enough. No problem. Print more. But I also couldn’t find my art computer which had the files on it.

“You know,” I said to my wife, “I wonder if Ken (the original printer at keness.com) has the original files?” “No way,” she said. “Who would keep files for 8 years?” Well, Ken did have the files (THANKS, KEN!) and low and behold another run of The Business of Monkeys nr. 2 was printed.

The comic that just keeps coming back, last minute. Want to see what this comic, that just keeps coming back, looks like? Pick yourself up a copy over at my etsy shop Brian Herrick Makes Art. Enjoy.

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Goodbye SF

In 1996 as I drove over the Bay Bridge for the first time, my jaw dropped. The skyline was a breathtaking sight. That awe lasted throughout my entire time in San Francisco. I grew up there. That is, I became a grownup there. I converged there with some friends from Alaska, where I was from, and we thought we would give the big city a try. For the first two weeks, I lived in a roach motel in North Beach across the street from The Stinking Rose, before landing an apartment in the outer Richmond District.

Within a couple years those Alaskan friends were off to other parts of the country, but by then I had a job as a teacher and I settled into San Francisco and it became home. Those were the dot com days and everyone said San Francisco was becoming corporate. I got yelled at in the mission waiting for the bus, wearing my teacher outfit: a shirt and tie. SUVs were smashed at night in response to gentrification. The bubble popped, the dot-commers left and I stuck around.

San Francisco was magic to me. Every bike ride, every bus commute and walk through the city was like cinema. There was always something new to see. I grew to love the fog. The food was out of this world. The Sushi was groundbreaking. Mission style burritos were eye opening. I will dream of the burritos from Chino’s and Gordo’s. The Lattes from Simple Pleasures are infused with fog and love. I found the Dolphin Club Swimming and Rowing Club where I met a whole new community of locals. Swimming in the bay became a daily ritual. The city became even more magical.

For 24 years I was a teacher and for 18 of those years an art teacher. It wasn’t uncommon to hear a young voice call out from a passing car “Hi, Mr Herrick!” That’s the small town nature of SF. There are a lot of people in SF but the actual geography is only 7 miles by 7 miles. Students grew up and became colleagues. I met my wife and we started a family. The city went through another tech boom and once again, it was going through growing pains. Forest fires became seasonal. The pandemic hit and we found ourselves longing for nature.

After 24 years in San Francisco, it’s time to leave. My wife and I decided to take our two kiddos to a land of seasons. Montpelier, Vermont, here we come. Thank you, San Francisco, and good luck. I will dream of you, I will see you with stars in my eyes, I will think of you as a place of myth, I will hold you close to my heart, and you will always be inside of me.

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