Underground comics were striking in that they seemed largely unedited - in a typical book, with stories by five to ten creators, some stories would be shockingly bad, and others would be startlingly brilliant. This was a lively and exciting combination. The artwork and stories, good and bad, were all so different - I'd stare at the pages and lose track of time. This was a world where anything could happen, and I wanted to go there.

Whatever they are, can Comics be "Art"? Of course they can. The "Art" in a piece is something independent of genre, form, or material. My feeling is that most paintings, most films, most music, most literature and, indeed, most comics fail as "Art." A masterpiece in any genre, form or material is equally "good." It's ridiculous to impose a hierarchy of value on art. The division between high and low art is one that cannot be defended because it has no correlation to aesthetic response.

I'd describe my inner life as constantly vigilant, always ready to flee or respond with violence. I've felt this way since I was a small child. Although it's often quite amusing, it's exhausting at times to live with myself, and when I'm tired and overwhelmed, I do become very depressed. If I'm unable to work for too long, I start questioning my purpose on this earth and whether or not I deserve to live. When I look at other people, I get the sense that they live with themselves much more gracefully.

The only way to know everything is to learn how to think, how to ask questions, how to navigate the world. Students must learn how to teach themselves to use new tools, how to talk to unfamiliar people, and basically how to be brave.

Oddly enough, I suppose, I don't give much thought to my style, and I don't attempt to be consistent - except within a story. You ask if I struggled to find my style. It seems to me that style - in other words, a way of thinking and doing things - is innate. You can try to will it to be different, but it's like a signature - you can't change its fundamental nature.

I am aware of existing in a nearly constant state of inner turmoil and argument. I become frustrated with my work when the solution to a creative impasse seems like a secret I don't want to tell myself. It's not that I lose faith in my work - I'm fairly certain the answers are there, but much of my energy is spent beating my psyche into revealing them.

Underground comics were striking in that they seemed largely unedited - in a typical book, with stories by five to ten creators, some stories would be shockingly bad, and others would be startlingly brilliant. This was a lively and exciting combination. The artwork and stories, good and bad, were all so different - I'd stare at the pages and lose track of time. This was a world where anything could happen, and I wanted to go there.