The idea of collaborating with illustrators, drawing on my photos, has been on my mind for quite some time. While it may not be an entirely original concept, I’ve imagined my own collaborations with artists I’ve admired over the years. My love for illustration and unconventional art started when I was very young. My father had an old army chest, padlocked away with secret items that were off-limits to a six-year-old boy. I was warned several times not to pry into that chest. Naturally, this became my number one mission whenever he was away at work.
The army chest, tucked at the back of his closet, wasn’t easy to break into — but in my mind, I was a skilled safecracker, navigating the underworld of heist thieves. This high-stakes job was my chance to prove my worth to my imaginary crew of misfits and earn my place among them. Perhaps a criminal’s life was waiting for me around the corner had I never broken into that chest.
For several days and weeks, I diligently worked, jamming screwdrivers and other tools into the keyhole, but with no success. Eventually, I abandoned the traditional attempts of lock-picking and picked up a hammer in frustrated determination. I hammered the stubborn lock with all my might until it finally gave way and broke apart. I knew a day of consequence would come for what I had done, but the treasures inside far surpassed any punishment I received.
Inside, I found old band t-shirts, photos of my father as a young man smoking marijuana with friends, and several items of memorabilia from his life before me. But most treasured were the art books and stack of magazines. Each publication pushed the boundaries of socially acceptable art, comedy, culture, and political commentary — challenging ideas that were beyond what most adults at the time could have imagined, let alone a six-year-old boy. It was a true treasure, indeed. Quite the score for a curious kid.
While my parents were away at work, I fixated on the pages of National Lampoon, Fabulous Freak Brothers comics, Easy Rider magazine, and other outsider publications I can’t recall by name today. I was transfixed by the drawings, the comics, the photos, and the design. I began sneaking these books out whenever I could, eventually getting caught and punished. After a few more instances, my parents gave up on punishing me and just let me have them.
I started tracing over the drawings, trying to make them my own. Eventually, I began drawing my own comics and pictures, and my mother bought me art supplies to encourage me. I even organized a little art club at daycare. I worked hard at bettering my skills, but despite all the effort, the gift of a talented illustrator never found its way into my hands.
After years of practice and countless hours devoted to my craft, my skills still hadn’t progressed as much as I’d hoped. One day, my oldest brother asked to use my art supplies and drew a picture light years ahead of mine in both detail and perspective. He had natural talent and even more upsetting he had no interest in pursuing it. I was defeated and angry. I gave up on my dream of becoming a great illustrator and resigned myself to being a spectator and collector on the sidelines.
Over the years, I collected comic books, magazines, and any other rare print I could get my hands on. In my early twenties, I would make several trips to the now-defunct Tower Records to buy punk zines, graffiti mags, and anything else that couldn’t be found on the shelves elsewhere – titles like Life Sucks Die, While You Were Sleeping, Bombing Science, Maxxum Rock N Roll, and many others. I collected comic books, skateboard decks, records, prints, and all kinds of things in between. Many of these purchases were driven solely by the art and cover images.
My love for illustration and art only grew, even though my skills never did. When I picked up a camera, it was a whole different story. Photography became as important to me as illustrated art, but it was something I could do at an acceptable level for myself. So, here before you, on these pages, is my selfish excuse to work with artists whose work I deeply admire and respect — some of whom I’m lucky to call my friends.
Illustrated Madness has been a long time in the making in my head. My love for zines, graffiti, illustration, independent publications, and photography has all come together right here in your hands. A small, humble beginning to something bigger, I hope. More than anything, I like to imagine that one day, some kid will stumble upon a copy of Illustrated Madness, tucked away in a forgotten box or chest, and it will spark the beginning of their curiosity to discover more. Hopefully, it leads them to uncover their own love for photography, art, and illustration, taking them on wild adventures that only a life of creative pursuit can offer. An adventure of discovery that will lead them to their own kind of splendid madness.
—Suitcase Joe.
