This has been a good year for Calvin and Hobbes fans.
First, fans created a film documentary called “Dear Mr. Watterson” last November, which explored creator Bill Watterson’s classic comic strip, and the devotion it has inspired over the years.
Then, in June, comic strip creator Stephen Pastis revealed that Watterson had helped him create a series of three comic strips, completely unbeknownst to the public. Bill Watterson emailed Pastis and pitched the comic strip idea: “he thought it would be funny to have me get hit on the head or something and suddenly be able to draw. Then he’d step in and draw my comic strip for a few days.”
Pastis wrote back, “Dear Bill, I will do whatever you want, including setting my hair on fire.”
The process revealed to Pastis (and us) more details on Watterson’s aversion to technology and attention:
Technology is not [Watterson's] friend. I found that out when it came to the logistics of the artwork. I drew my part first and then shipped him the strips. I wanted him to fill in the panels I left blank, and simply scan and email me back the finished strips.
I asked him to do this because I did not want to be responsible for handling his finished artwork. Partly because I knew it would be worth thousands of dollars. Partly because I knew he wanted to auction it off for charity. And partly because my UPS driver has a tendency to leave my packages in the dirt at the end of our driveway. (I could just imagine the email I’d have to write the next day: “Dear Mr. Watterson – The first comic strip you’ve drawn in 20 years was ravaged by a squirrel.”)
So this left doing it my way. Digitally. And this is when I found out that Bill Watterson is not comfortable with scanners or Photoshop or large email attachments. In fact, by the end of the process, I was left with the distinct impression that he works in a log cabin lit by whale oil and hands his finished artwork to a man on a pony.
Now, as the culmination of this year’s Watterson appearances, we have his first exclusive comic strip drawn for the public in ages—a piece he created for France’s Angoulême International Comics Festival. It’s a comic without words, a comic that transcends language and tells a story purely through pictures. And, as several other commentators have pointed out, it’s pure Watterson.
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