The Underground Sketchbook Of Tomi Ungerer

Originally published in 1964, Tomi Ungerer’s infamous Underground Sketchbook became a notorious aesthetic talisman among in-the-know cartoonists and fan connoisseurs, revered for its audacious visual wit and coruscating and absurdist humor, spoken about with awe among the tribe of cartooning lovers. It is the first book in which the award-winning children’s book illustrator let loose, a blast of social commentary, dada-esque observations, and existential angst. Jonathan Miller, in his introduction to the original book, described the work as “an iconography of this bewildering, centrifugal universe. Ungerer illustrates a world where things are coming apart, where the old unquestioned entities are at best provisional arrangements, loosely thrown together and never to be relied upon.” Sound familiar? Underground Sketchbook is, among other things, a relentless rage against avarice, unfettered consumerism, alienation, the exploitation of everything, the mechanization of human experience, and the public acquiescence to the worst instincts that fuel a modern economy — as timely now as it was then, if not moreso. This is as powerful a dose of visual ingenuity, moral outrage, and bemused disgust at the human comedy that you are ever likely to experience by an artist of international renown.

For the next five years his life would be dominated by Nazi doctrine as the German occupation consumed the lives of the Alsatian people.

You know John Cuneo from his award-winning illustrations that have graced the pages of Esquire or the covers of The New Yorker, but less known are the over-the-top and hilariously perverse cartoons that fill the pages of Not Waving But Drawing. Assembling Cuneo's best privately drawn sketchbook pages, each page immediately introduces us to unique takes on sex and domestic life in his signature squiggly style. Not Waving But Drawing is full of dark thoughts, lightly rendered.