Schulz on Schulz

Charles Schulz announced his retirement Dec. 14. Here, he explains how he worked his magic for almost 50 years. The article is from the book "Peanuts: A Golden Celebration" and is reprinted with permission of HarperCollinsPublishers, N.Y.

"To take a blank piece of paper and continue drawing with the same pen and materials as when I started the strip in 1950 is a real privilege." -- Charles Schulz

By CHARLES SCHULZ

It is extremely important for a cartoonist to be a person of observation. He not only has to observe the strange things that people do and listen to the strange things that they say, but he also has to be reasonably observant as to the appearance of objects in the world around him.

Some cartoonists keep a file of things they might have to draw. Other cartoonists do a good deal of actual sketching. This kind of observing has led me to something I can only describe as mental drawing, and at times that has become a real burden, for I seem to be unable to stop it.

While I am carrying on a conversation with someone, I find that I am drawing with my eyes. I find myself observing how his shirt collar comes around from behind his neck and perhaps casts a slight shadow on one side. I observe how the wrinkles in his sleeve form and how his arm may be resting on the edge of the chair. I observe how the features on his face move back and forth in perspective as he rotates his head. It actually is a form of sketching and I believe that it is the next best thing to drawing itself. I sometimes feel it is obsessive, but at least it accomplishes something for me.

It is also important to me, when I am discussing the comic strips, to make certain that everyone knows that I do not regard what I am doing as Great Art. I am certainly not ashamed of the work I do, nor do I apologize for being involved in a field that is generally regarded as occupying a very low rung on the entertainment ladder. I am all too aware of the fact that when a reviewer for a sophisticated journal wishes to downgrade the latest Broadway play, one of the worst things he or she can say about it is that it has a comic-strip plot. This is also true for movie reviewers, but I tend to believe that movies, on the whole, really do not rank that much higher than comic strips as an art form.

The comic strip can be an extremely creative endeavor. At its highest level, we find a wonderful combination of writing and drawing, generally done by one person sitting at a drawing board in a room all by himself, much the same as a composer sitting at a piano... But there are several factors that work against comic strips, preventing them from becoming a true art form in the mind of the public. First, there is the quality of reproduction.

Comic strips are reproduced with the express purpose of helping publishers sell their publications. The paper on which they appear is not of the best quality, so the reproductions lose much of the beauty of the originals. The strip is not always exhibited in the best place, and there are always annoying things like copyright stickers, which can break up the pleasing design of a panel, or the intrusion of titles into first panels in order to save space. The true artist, working on his canvas, does not have to put up with such desecrations.

The comic strip serves its purpose in an admirable way, for there is no medium that can compete with it for readership or for longevity. There are numerous comic strips that have been enjoyed by as many as 60 million readers a day, for a period of 50 years. Having a large audience does not, of course, prove that something is necessarily good, and I subscribe to the theory that only a creation that speaks to succeeding generations can truly be labeled great. But it really does not matter what you are called, or where your work is placed, as long as it brings some kind of joy to some person someplace.

I work as hard now as I ever did. I do the strip because I want to. Some who say they create for unselfish reasons, for humanity, are not being honest. They do it for themselves, because they have to. They are driven to it.

A short while ago, the phone rang in our house, about 7:15 in the morning. My wife, Jeannie, answered it. It was a young girl calling from the Midwest. She said, "My friends and I are having an argument. Is Mr. Schulz still alive?"

Jeannie said, "I just saw him in the bedroom about 10 seconds ago."

So the girl said, "Oh well, I guess I lose the bet then."

Considering what some of Charlie Brown's friends say, I must admit that things like this are not totally lost on me. Even useful. To create something out of nothing is a wonderful experience. To take a blank piece of paper and continue drawing with the same pen and materials as when I started the strip in 1950 is a real privilege. To draw characters that people love and worry about is extremely satisfying. I am happy that I have been allowed to do it for 50 years.