Great Cartoons of the World Series 7, part 11

This is the last I have of cartoons from this 1973 book Great Cartoons of the World, Series 7

Tony Munzlinger

Robert Day

Barney Tobey in the New Yorker

This three-pager was by Mischa Richter

Michael Ffolkes

Terrence “Larry” Parkes for Punch

Stanislav Holý

Robert Day

Michael Ffolkes

Anatol Kovarsky

Guillermo Mordillo

Great Cartoons of the World Series 7, part 7

Here is the seventh part of the book Great Cartoons of the World, Series 7 from 1973.

Chon Day in The Saturday Evening Post

Guillermo Mordillo

Charles Elmer Martin

Vlasta Zábranský for Rohác

Charles Addams for the New Yorker.This cartoon isn't that different from what's been going on in Brooklyn for the past ten years.

Editor John Bailey writes of the cartoonist in the introduction to the book:

The fascinating thing is, one cannot tell before meeting him whether an artist will be like his work, or will not be. Charles Addams does look slightly sinister, but the moment he speaks you realize he is not going to behead you. He is gentle and cultivated, and his creeping creatures are strictly the creation of his genuine spooky imagination.

Hans Moser

Donald Reilly for The New Yorker

Jean-Jacques Sempé for Editions Denoël

Pit Grove

Adolf Born for Dikobraz

Whitney Darrow, Jr.

Great Cartoons of the World Series 7, part 6

Another Saturday, so here again are excerpts from 1973's Great Cartoons of the World, Series 7, edited by John Bailey.

Leslie Starke for Punch

Stanislav Holý

Chon Day for Look

Eldon Dedini

Vlasta Zábranský

Guillermo Mordillo

Boris Drucker

Mischa Richter in The New Yorker

Michael Ffolkes

Guillermo Mordillo again.

Jean-Jacques Sempé for Editions Denoël

Guillermo Mordillo

Great Cartoons of the World Series Seven, part 4

In which I post the fourth part of the book Great Cartoons of the World, Series 7 from 1972.

Editor John Bailey, writing about the cartoonists are really like, continues with doublespeak in his introduction from last week, fulfilling his obligation to fill a few pages:

One would assume from Rouault's rich, luscious pigment that he was a big extrovert, but he was tiny and monklike. From his expressions of evil on the motion-picture screen, one would expect to be seized and strapped to a table by Boris Karloff, but he was a mind, kind, gentle, and wonderful person.

On the other hand, sometimes the talent and the person are identical, as is the case of Caruso. Leonardo was a logical genius, and the delicacy, the aristocratic expression of his thought, and the feeling of elegance in his work were all to be found in his person, if we can trust the remark of a friend who described him as being “as beautiful as an angel”.

Picasso was the full embodiment of his work. He was the bull. Hemingway personified what he wanted to be. No matter how hidden it is in the work, the subconscious is being expressed. Sometimes the relation is uncomplicated and “what you sees is what you gets.” Sometimes both the man and his work are as many-layered as Nabokov.

Ton Smits

A lot more John Glashan for those who didn't get enough last week.

William O'Brian

Mischa Richter in the New Yorker. The editor writes of him in the introduction:

I am certain that the picture formed in the public mind of Richter is that of a tall, swarthy, sinister figure, such as might be lurking around an embassy. He is not big, but when he talks one feels his strength.He has a strong mind, strong opinions, and a skeptical eye on the world, all reflected in the vigor of his line.

Guillermo Mordillo

Chon Day

Adolf Born

And we end as we began, with Ton Smits.