In honor of Secret Acres’ release of the first-ever P.S. Comics collection, we sat down with Bay Area artist Minty Lewis to discuss the pretension of Italian fascism, the difficulty of drawing beaches, and why no one cares about the arm lengths of fruit.
PS Comics #4
By Minty Lewis
Self-Published
Not all that much tends to happen in an issue of PS Comics. For a book that primarily alternates between the exploits of anthropomorphic animals and talking produce, Minty Lewis’s output is largely defined by a quiet understated quality, which gives the reader the distinct impression that—even as her characters (this time out, an assorted cast of domesticated pets) give into their animalistic instincts and do something like, say groom themselves with a sandpapery tongue—the artist is largely drawing upon her own existence as storytelling fodder. When issue four finds two roommates—a cat and a dog, name Ruffles and Otis—traveling to a crafts fair to peddle their own hand-knitting kitchenware, potholders and cheese cozies, respectively, it’s tough not to read the experience as a thinly-veiled allegory for the author’s own experiences at some comic convention or zine expo. True to much of Lewis’s work, nothing especially extraordinary occurs as her story unfolds. There are a few goofy occurrences, sure, like a shower curtain rod busting during an attempt at pull-ups, but the book’s key moments are far subtler—brief bickering in the car on the way to the show, passive-aggressive interactions with convention attendees, and a quiet interaction with a cow, fenced in next to a grocery store, which closes out the book. Read the rest of this entry »
