Anti-Hero - Meeting Art Spiegelman

Last week Art Spiegelman came to Austin's Book People to give a talk on his new book Breakdowns: Portrait of the Artist as a Young %$##. He filled in the blanks as the talk progressed. I, like most who were eager to get the chance to talk to author/artists, got the book and settled down for an hour long talk about a "memoir of a memoirist."

He was everything I imagined. Funny, witty, short, and balding. He wore his signature vest and somehow smuggled in a pack of Camels Unfiltered. It was a successful group date with my "man crush", a term a friend from grad school used to describe my non-existent relationship with Art. I had all of his books, heard all of his interviews on NPR, and collected a few of illustrations that graced the covers of the New Yorker.

A few years back I had the chance to lead an overseas exchange group to Japan that include Art's then teenage son. When I heard this, I almost threw-up. That feeling quickly passed, and what followed was an amusing anecdote. I'm not too sure of the ethics of publicly exposing this story, but I figure they're both adults (now). Plus, it's not that damning.

A common belief is that meeting your heroes often leads to feelings of disappointment. My brother-in-law once spotted William Shatner in the Albuquerque Airport, and Shatner told him to F### off when asked for an autograph. Talk about disappointment. Well, what about meeting your hero's goofy teenage son? What feelings am I supposed to have?

The summer in Japan came and went. For all intents and purposes Art's son was a wonderful addition to the group. There's just one story that stands out, and I used it to introduce myself when it came time to sign his book.

"Hello Mr. Spiegelman. My name is Matt. I was the leader on the trip to Japan with your son, and I watched him loose his passport and the copy of his passport within a period of 48 hours."

His reaction was at first bewilderment and then laughter. I'm just thankful he didn't tell me to go F### off like Shatner.