For several years now I have been part of GNW show for Network 10 which documents, for primarily Australian audiences, The Montreal Comedy Festival.
In the time it takes to set up cameras, or prepare me for the onslaught, or while waiting for wayward comedians to escape the miasma of another night of over-indulgence, I have time to pen. I'll be suited, sat, mic'd and waiting. I am more often than not sat in squat airless rooms on the mutant offspring of Mephis-design chairs. The rooms feel like well appointed dungeons. Of the few items in the room of any worth, or warmth, are plants. (Occasionally, I am afforded a view of the city beyond the confines of these rooms, thought this only occurs if we are not too deep underground). And, occasionally, I am allowed in a garden.
The year before last I began writing the names of the comedians, ranconteurs, jovialists and bon vivants I was about to chat with beside the scribbles I had made proir to their arrival.
Here are a small seletion.
The complexity, or lack thereof, of each drawing bears no relationship to the punctuality, or lack thereof, of the comedian.