Louise Bonnet is a Los Angeles-based painter of round, fleshy, almost obscene shapes and people. But hers is a very clean, friendly cartoon world, so there's this tension between harmlessness and perversion that is totally unsettling.
The first thing that matters: I am a child of the eighties. I grew up in a neon wonderland of talking horses, compassionate bears, hair that didn't move in a stiff wind, and the constant threat of nuclear war.
The fine-art world knows very little about the cartoon world.
The cartoon me writes the books cartoon people read in the cartoon world, because they need things to read there too.
In the high level cartoon world, my number one admired hero would be Chas Addams - really a top, top artist that the 'New Yorker' was lucky to find and employ.
It makes a lot of sense to me that I would be a cartoon. I feel like a cartoon as a person. I really, really do.
Maybe I'll just become a cartoon character because there's nothing left for me to do in an R-rated comedy.
The strips I admire go farther than a gag a day, and take us into a special world.
I read the 'New Yorker' when I was a kid. I used to love the cartoons and pick the cartoons out of the library, so I felt I knew the world of their cartoons.
Weird, but sometimes I feel more like my cartoon character than I do Lizzie because she's a little more edgy and snappy.
I'd love to be animated. I've always wanted to jump off of a bridge and not be hurt, like Bugs Bunny.
Sometimes when I flick through a magazine and see these thin models I'm left wondering what effect they can have on an insecure person. But I say to girls: forget what you see in the magazines, that is a world which has nothing to do with reality; think of it as a cartoon.
Like a cartoon world, where the figures are flat and outlined in black, jerking through some kind of goofy story that might be real funny if it weren't for the cartoon figures being real guys.
