VERMONT VOICES: HARRY BLISS
Sherman: Most of my interviews usually start with lighthearted questions and get more serious as they progress. But, your new book is entitled, You Can Never Die, so I think it makes sense to work in reverse.
The book’ s introduction begins with a quote from Pearl S. Buck,“ There in that land of mine is buried the first good half of my life. And more, it is as though half of me were buried there, and now it is a different life in my house.” That quote reminded me of one of my favorite song lyrics. In the musical Nine by Maury Yeston, a married woman is reflecting on her younger self, and she comments,“ Long ago, someone else ago.”
Your book certainly acknowledges mortality, but also the different phases of life. How do you personally break down the phases of your life?
Bliss: I think the difference between me“ now” and me“ then” is that I wasn’ t aware that I was sad. I didn’ t understand sadness. I didn’ t understand what was happening to me for a long time- and I’ m talking well into my thirties. There came a point when I embraced that part of me. I embraced depression, sadness, and fear, and it became a curiosity for me. But up to a certain age, it was just anxiety and nervousness.
It’ s so much better to know what you’ re feeling and to be able to be vulnerable and emote to people; to be able to tell my wife how I’ m feeling, as opposed to just being passive-aggressive about something. So, the difference between me then, in the past, and now, is that I’ m just more honest with people. I’ m just more frank and sincere. That’ s why
I started keeping journals, so I can keep track of what’ s going on— because up until a certain age, I didn’ t understand what was happening. I just had my head down and made art. I was just thinking,“ I love to draw.” It was a way of getting attention. It was a way of paying the bills. At a certain point, I was good at it, but I didn’ t pay attention to really much else. And now I seem to be tuned into everything.
Sherman: One of my all-time favorite cartoons is your take-off of Norman Rockwell’ s“ Breaking Home Ties.” The original painting by Rockwell was painted here in Arlington and shows a worn farmer sitting next to his enthusiastic young son, who is going off into the wider world. Your cartoon shows a father rabbit speaking with his son and handing him a gift. The caption reads,“ Your mother wanted you to have this for good luck. It’ s her foot.” It’ s a fantastic satire of Rockwell’ s original work, because the caption is so unexpected. I was hoping you could talk about your general approach and use of humor in addressing darker thoughts. How do you find that happy balance?
Bliss: I’ m glad you like that cartoon. It’ s one of my personal favorites, too, actually. I don’ t really think about the balance. It doesn’ t enter into my consciousness. I think it’ s built into who I am. I just did a cartoon recently about a guy dumping his dog’ s ashes on a squirrel, and the guy’ s little girl is there with him, the father’ s daughter. The squirrel’ s kind of angry, and all the ashes are falling onto the squirrel, and the father says,“ It’ s what Bailey would have wanted.” I thought that was funny, but some readers didn’ t think it was funny. It brings up sadness, obviously, about losing a pet. For some people, myself included, there’ s a deep, inexplicable sadness about losing a pet that just a handful of people understand. There’ s that piece of it, and there’ s also a sweet sadness. It’ s irreverent, a little sardonic. The other part is that I really do these cartoons for me. I’ ll check in with people. I’ ll check in with my stepdaughter, my wife, and my son. I’ ll ask them,“ Do you like this?” but really, they’ re for me.
I really don’ t like to bring up sadness in people, though it does happen. I do get letters.
There was another cartoon I did recently with a cat journaling, saying something like,“ Oh, such a lovely day, the sweeping clouds are moving across the sky in such a beautiful way. I can smell the wind outside my window. There are chickadees, sparrows, and finches all about... I killed the chickadees.” That’ s what cats do— they kill birds. It’ s just a fact of life. But I got letters from people angry at me, saying,“ You don’ t understand, cats really kill so many birds.” I’ m like,“ I know, but it’ s a cartoon! Don’ t be mad at me!”
38 VERMONT MAGAZINE