Jeffrey Koterba

Kind Gestures

April 9th, 2012

I’ve been hit by lightning. My cartoons have flown in space. And yet, one of the most surrealistic moments I’ve ever experienced had to be watching myself twitch on the big screen—when I was able to watch, that is. Truth be told, there were moments when I had to close my eyes during a recent screening of the new documentary, Voluntary Gestures, by Stefan Morel. I mean, it’s uncomfortable enough listening to my voice in the recording studio when working on a new song. But watching myself twitch? Tough. Yet, what did I expect? The film is about the connection between Tourette’s and creativity.

Filmmaker Stefan Morel and I first met a year ago when he came to Omaha to spend a week with me, his camera in hand, always at the ready. I trusted him from the start and we quickly became close friends. Stefan is an artist, and what he’s created—from what I’ve seen—is beautiful. And apparently, others who have seen the film agree. At its premiere at the Omaha Film Festival, Voluntary Gestures won two awards including the Audience Choice Award for a short film.

I’m also proud that the film allowed me the opportunity to work with the talented, Josh Koterba, who happens to be my son. Josh and I recorded much of the music for the film. What we didn’t record came from my band, Prairie Cats.

I would also like to thank all of those folks who came to the festival and shared their kind words about the film. For those who have asked when and where they can see it: at present, Voluntary Gestures is being submitted to film festivals around the world which, at this time, precludes general distribution. However, at some point down the road, it’s my understanding that Voluntary Gestures will be available to a wider audience. When that happens I’ll be sure to let you know.

In the meantime, here’s the trailer…Enjoy!

Cats and Dogs, Tics and Space

December 21st, 2011

I always knew that my childhood creation, Dogie the Doggie, was engaged in a self-proclaimed space race with Snoopy. Dogie was also the star of his own newspaper, The Dogie the Doggie News. But who knew that he had competition? From a Cat? It took a trip to New York for me to learn that when she was ten, comedian Chelsea White was not only “broadcasting” The Daily Cat, but had also sent Whiskers into space.

When she’s not making people laugh with her stand-up, Chelsea’s hosting, producing, and editing. And when she’s not doing that, she’s mentoring those with Tourette Syndrome, often visiting schools, sharing her experiences of having grown up with Tourette’s. As someone who also suffers from Tourette’s, I was in town to give a talk at a mentoring brunch sponsored by New York City’s chapter of the Tourette Syndrome Association.

The best part about hanging out at the brunch? I got to meet a lot of great people with Tourette’s, people who don’t define themselves by their tics but instead, are infinitely creative, smart and funny. And that’s the thing about Tourette’s. It isn’t just about twitching, it’s about creating art, music, books, and plays.

And sending imaginary pets into space.

Another Jeff

August 24th, 2011

1. Earlier this summer I’d been asked to visit Timothy McMahon’s MBA class at Creighton University to discuss social networking. The students had plenty of great questions and the informal discussion was fluid. Along the way, we got to talking about my cartoons that traveled aboard the space shuttle, which led one student to ask why space travel is important—a topic in which I am passionate. Along the way, I realized that Timothy was videotaping our conversation. Afterwards, I asked for a copy of the clip; unfortunately, technical difficulties prevented him from posting or sending the video.

2. A few nights ago, I caught Another Earth, a beautiful new film about the discovery of a duplicate planet, and one character’s desire to travel there. But more than a sci-fi story about space travel, Another Earth is a commentary on the human condition, one that confronts the question: how would it feel to meet yourself? One of the things I loved about the original Twilight Zone series was its focus on character development, not on special effects. Another Earth is like a gorgeous, full-length Twilight Zone.

3. While walking home from the film, the night took on a strange, ethereal feel. Maybe it was nothing more than the overcast sky, the lights of the city creating a strange glow, combined with the residual effects of having watched such a moving film…

4. I turned on my iPhone and discovered a message from Timothy—he was letting me know that he’d finally been able to post the video of my answer to the “why space exploration is important” question.

5. As I walked I watched a smaller version of myself, another me, professing my beliefs about the importance of space travel. As far as coincidences go, this was a small one. Yet, as I moved through the shadows of my neighborhood, my phone aglow with YouTube, I couldn’t help but smile and imagine that Another Earth had continued on, beyond the theater, out into the real world…

6. A big thank you to Timothy. Here’s the video (and yes, that’s a cartoon including Moammar Gadhafi in the background):

From Bono to Gaga

July 30th, 2011

It’s happened again. I seemed to be in the right place at the right time for a celebrity sighting. As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t get that excited about such things. However, whether spotting someone like Bono or Lady Gaga, my inner journalist takes over. And although I don’t carry a camera, I do have a smart phone (I also often carry a sketchbook, but I’m fairly certain not even celebrities on the B list would wait around for me to do a sketch.)

Once, upon spotting U2‘s Bono at a bar in my Omaha neighborhood, I followed him outside to snap a photo. Unfortunately, my attempt to capture his image didn’t go so well. (Read about my attempt here.)

This past Monday, on the very day I was celebrating 22 years as a full-time cartoonist (that’s at least 7000 deadlines, I’m guessing. Gulp.), I went for a walk and came upon a small crowd gathered in front of KFAB studios, a few blocks from where I live. As I approached, Lady Gaga arrived—she was there to give an interview. Memories of my botched photo attempt of Bono, of course, quickly came to mind. Coincidentally, Lady Gaga was standing just yards away from where Bono stood for my “photo” of him.

I have several good friends at the Omaha World-Herald who happen to be talented photographers. Their jobs seem glamorous. They get to cover everything from wars to championship sporting events, often gaining access to people and places the rest of us can only dream of. They also get to spend a great deal of time outside, not stuck at a desk or drawing table. There have been times when I’ve even fantasized that maybe I should have taken up photography. But then, all it takes is a moment like the other day, when I find myself among screaming—and in some cases, crying—fans, that I remind myself that I’ve made the right choices career-wise.

Here’s one attempt (Did I mention I was in sweaty running clothes? Humbling.)…

Example number two why it’s good I didn’t become a professional photographer…

Finally, with the exception of someone’s giant hand that got in the way, a bit of success (though she’s probably thinking, “Who’s the dude in the sweaty workout clothes? Even the guys from TMZ dress better than that…”)…

Quirky side note alert: the way Lady Gaga’s hair is swirled around her face reminds me a little of the cover of Lisa Glatt’s novel, A Girl Becomes a Comma Like That. 

Farewell, Space Shuttle

July 21st, 2011

Voluntary Gestures

May 18th, 2011

It’s not every day I’m asked to appear in a documentary. Let alone a film that explores the connection between Tourette’s Syndrome and creativity. And although I don’t let my having Tourette’s Syndrome define me, I was excited for the chance to work on a Tourette’s-related project with a talented filmmaker and artist from Toronto, Stefan Morel.

When we first discussed the project, it was clear that Stefan wanted to focus on the creative process, while Tourette’s would play a supporting role. This resonated with me because it was the same approach I had taken when writing Inklings. Yes, Tourette’s is a part of me, but it’s certainly not the first or even the fifth thing I think about when defining myself. On the other hand, I can’t imagine that I would be able to write, draw, and play music, if not for my quirky neurology.

Stefan and I spent nearly a week together. And while the experience was at times intense, Stefan set my mind at ease; not only was the experience enjoyable, I learned a great deal about myself in the process. Also, there were some amazing coincidences that occurred during filming—coincidences I’ll share later.

Still, it’s a bit surrealistic to see oneself in a film. I mean, it’s tough enough while in the recording studio, listening back to my vocals and guitar playing, but seeing myself so up close…especially seeing myself for how I really am. Not the guy holding in the tics, but sometimes letting go, letting myself twitch.

The film is part of a series for the Tourette Syndrome Foundation of Canada. And although the film is still in the editing process, you can see an excerpt here: Voluntary Gestures

Contest Launch

April 4th, 2011

When my memoir, Inklings, was released in November 2009, I had no idea that I would soon get the opportunity to write a new ending. At the same time Inklings was hitting bookshelves, astronaut Clay Anderson was making preparations for his second flight into space. Little did I know that just a few months later, I would be making my way to the Kennedy Space Center where I would watch space shuttle Discovery launch into space with two of my cartoons on board.

One of those cartoons was of Dogie—a dog character I had created as a child and one that plays a significant role in my book. Now, Dogie would have a chance at redemption. (For trivia buffs: according to NASA, the sketches that flew aboard Discovery marked only the second time cartoons made it into space. The first being sketches created by Peants creator Charles Schulz.)

On April 5, 2010, space shuttle Discovery—with Dogie the Doggie an extra crew member—was launched into orbit for a two-week mission.

After returning from the launch I had a discussion with my wonderful literary agent, Amy Moore-Benson. Why not write an epilogue for the paperback edition, she suggested, one that would come out later that year? My editor at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Tom Bouman, loved the idea and before long, a new epilogue was written and added to the paperback, released in Novemember, 2010.

To commemorate the occasion of Dogie’s launch into space one year ago today, I’m holding a special contest exclusively for my followers on Twitter. I’ll be giving away five packages—one per day—that will include a signed paperback edition of Inklings and a signed cartoon print of the Dogie cartoon that flew aboard the shuttle. (I’m happy to personalize either, as well.)

Here’s what you need to do to win: Starting April 5, 2011, tweet the following:

Winners will be chosen at random, one per day, beginning April 6, 2011, using www.random.org, and announced daily via @reply and/or DM. (Winners please DM me with mailing information.)

Tweet early, tweet often. The more times you tweet, the more chances you have to win. You may enter as often as you wish (if you win, however, I ask that you don’t enter again to give someone else a chance.)

And if you’d prefer to help celebrate Dogie’s anniversary now, you can buy Inklings with the space shuttle epilogue here!

Start tweeting and good luck!

Now Playing: The Book Trailer That Took Me Home

October 22nd, 2010

In the 1960s and ‘70s my father would scour Omaha’s garage sales for broken TVs that he would repair and sell to make extra cash. “To feed his family,” he would often say. Until I was a teenager, I would sometimes accompany him on his jaunts, helping best I could to lug portables, table models and mammoth consoles, squeezing them into our Buick and later carrying them into our living and dining rooms which doubled as his workshop. I often resented him for having to help out; I would much rather stay home and draw cartoons.

When I wrote about my father’s TV business in my memoir, Inklings, never did it occur to me that I might once again find myself in search of old TVs.

This past summer, as I met with my filmmaking friend, Jason Levering, to discuss ideas for a new book trailer to celebrate the upcoming paperback release of Inklings, it soon became clear what we were going to need: TVs, the very kind I used to help my father carry.

Instead of searching at garage sales, however, I posted on Facebook asking if anyone had vintage TVs we could borrow for the video shoot. Several friends came through with just what we were looking for. Soon, Jason and I were crisscrossing Omaha, loading up my Subaru with historic TVs, the familiar scent of mustiness filling my car, taking me back to those days when I helped my father.

As Jason and I carried the TVs into the film studio, it wasn’t the memory of resentment toward my father that came over me. Instead, I was filled with a rush of love and appreciation for all he did to take care of those he loved.

Dispatch from the Gulf

August 12th, 2010

My son, Josh, was thrilled for me to finally experience Panama City, Florida, to throw a football on its white beaches, to gaze into its clear Gulf water, to wear flip-flops even to the nicest of restaurants. Josh’s first encounter with Florida came a few years back when he traveled from Nebraska to meet his girlfriend’s family in this sun-soaked panhandle town. Panama City was why he first fell in love with Florida, long before he discovered the disappointment of repetitive strip malls and endless suburbs one finds in places such as Orlando. Although I can’t swim, I’m always on board for a trip to the beach. Besides, I figured, a respite on the Gulf might be just what the doctor ordered to get away from the stress of daily newspaper deadlines.

As it turns out, however, it’s sometimes difficult to turn off the cartooning part of my brain, especially when coming to a place that recently has so prominently figured in the news. It also didn’t help matters that a few remaining BP workers continued to patrol the beach, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, not to mention that President Obama had just announced plans to return to the area in a few days. Surely, there had to be a cartoon idea lurking here somewhere. At the very least, I figured, it would be interesting to see a tar ball up close. As it turned out, the water was murky and thick with debris, the sand not faring much better—not, however, with any remnants from the oil spill, but with algae.

“Worst I’ve seen in the thirty-one years I’ve lived here,” one local told me, disappointed in her hometown beach, practically apologizing.

One sunburned BP worker also seemed perplexed as to why the water was so green and soupy. When I asked him what might be the cause, he just shrugged.

Were these high-levels of algae the result of nothing more than several days’ worth of high temperatures along the Gulf? Or more disconcerting, the result of long-term climate change? Was it possible that all the oil disbursement work somehow stirred things up? Whatever the cause, as Josh and I hesitantly waded into the opaque water, with those BP workers lingering on the hazy beach behind us, I couldn’t help but feel that I had entered some dystopian world.

To add to the science fiction eeriness, since arriving in Florida a few days before, we’d caught several episodes of Discovery Channel’s “Shark Week,” including some featuring shark attacks in the very waters where we were now submerged, chest-deep. A slight panic came over me. The seaweed clinging to my legs seemed like just the kind of place a menacing shark might like to lie in wait.

That’s when Josh asked if he could teach me how to swim.

It’s not that I haven’t taken swimming lessons in the past, and I certainly understand the basic mechanics. For whatever reason, however, I’ve always struggled with the letting go part of swimming, trusting I won’t sink to the bottom. Maybe it’s because I grew up hearing stories from my mother about how she nearly drowned in a lake when she was a teenager.

Josh exudes confidence. And he’s patient. For his sake, I gave floating a try. I took a deep breath, and lowering myself into the green sludge, I leaned back, catching myself at the last moment, desperately searching for the bottom with my feet, flailing, going under for just a moment, taking in a healthy dose of saltwater.

I shook it off and tried again. This time I floated for a few seconds. On my back, my face to the sky, I squinted against the hot Florida sun, forgetting for a moment about cartoons and sharks, oil and algae.

My Letter to an Astronaut

May 4th, 2010

While Clay Anderson was flying aboard the space shuttle I had the privilege of exchanging a few emails with him. Just a few years ago the idea of a civilian emailing the space shuttle seemed like science fiction. So maybe I was thinking more like Jules Verne when I thought it would be fun to write a “letter” to Clay.