The New Yorker CenTOONial Party
Trigger Warning: Egregious Name Dropping
I write to you from unsunny Williamsport, Pennsylvania.
It is currently 28 degrees Fahrenheit and I am thriving.
I’m currently halfway through a 3 week stay on the East Coast.
I flew into NYC for the first weekend, then drove to Williamsport for a secondary stay at the St. Nell’s house for 2 weeks of writing and drawing.
(I did the official St. Nell’s residency 2 years ago— this time Emily Flake just offered up the house for shits and gigs and my writing partner Jennie Egerdie and I gladly accepted.)
On the first Friday of my stay at St. Nell’s I rented a car and drove back to NYC yet again for the weekend and…
The New Yorker CenTOONial Celebration!
A little over a month ago some of us New Yorker cartoonists had begun to wonder when the New Yorker Centennial celebration was going to take place.
We waited for news, but weren’t getting any.
Eventually we discovered that this year The New Yorker was only celebrating with their full-time staff and a small handful of cartoonists— so the rest of us were S.O.L.
Very quickly two incredible cartoonists, Zoe Si and Ngozi Ukazu, proposed we celebrate despite the lack-of-invites and host a New Yorker CenTOONial for ourselves.
Everyone who attended got a commemorative pin illustrated by Ed Steed, which is probably going to become my most treasured heirloom that I will likely still be harping on about when I’m 93 year olds and on my death bed.
The day was jam packed with activities.
We started the day with a museum crawl which began at L’Alliance, which was hosting an exhibit on original cover art from The New Yorker.
Original art above by Chris Ware, Adrian Tomine, and Barry Blitt.
This was followed by a trip to the Society of Illustrators with an exhibit celebrating a broader range of artists from The New Yorker.
I unfortunately missed this one because I was busy stuffing my face with a lox bagel and being sad about missing my baby.
But after my sad, delicious bagel we went to The New York Public Library for an exhibit all about The New Yorker and it’s celebrated 100 year of publication.
After the library I got dinner in Midtown with more incredible, lovely cartoonists:
After this was the official CenTOONial Party, which took place as Maxwell Social Club in Tribeca.
Several cartoonists who are also comedians, performed stand-up for the rest of us, which was an absolute pleasure.
After the cartoonists performed their stand-up we had a SURPRISE CELEBRITY GUEST?!
RONNY CHIENG!!! Tha fuq?~!
He accused us of being the Illuminati and I am eternally grateful.
Felipe had the genius idea to have us all sign the New Yorker’s 100th issue and I wish I had been so thoughtful myself!
Our world feels increasingly built for isolation and misanthropy, so being surrounded by so many kind and clever people was a deeply empowering experience.
It’s a very hopeful feeling to remember how beautiful people can be together.
Many of the hundred-or-so cartoonists who showed up flew out from across the country just to be together again (myself included).
I have been having the time of my life out here.
I have also been experiencing an absolute crushing sadness being away from my baby.
I had convinced myself before taking this trip that I, “wasn’t like other moms” (lol, idiot). I told myself that I knew my baby was in good, loving hands and I knew she was safe, so surely that would be enough to allow me the freedom to have a great time away.
Turns out I am a human being after all.
The first week I was too busy to think much about it— but late at night on the 6th night my heart collapsed in on itself and I felt a level of homesickness I’ve never felt in my entire life.
It felt like my chest was caving in— like no amount of crying could free me from the pain. I tried to focus on the novelty of it all. I’m almost 40 years old and I’ve never felt this way.
I know I’ll be home “soon”, but I’ve been counting down the days.
I’ve been bouncing between euphoria and a delirium-enducing heartache.
I’m trying to be present and appreciate this special moment in my life.
I still have a good amount of my trip ahead of me.
Next weekend I’m seeing “Oh, Mary!” on Broadway and attending a birthday party full of New York humor writers.
Today I write from a café in Williamsport and drink my oat cappuccino while trying to name-drop away the pain in my chest.
I love New York. And yes, in a totally cliché way.
I used to dream of visiting long before I did. I think I could be really happy here.
I keep telling myself in another timeline I am a New Yorker.
As I approach 40 I’m starting to notice the early days of doors closing on certain dreams I once had for myself.
I know this will only get harder, but for now I feel pretty fucking lucky.
Comments (Let’s Chat!):
Have you been to NYC?
Are you a fan, or no, or something inbetween?
Do you read The New Yorker?
Did you know it was their centennial?
Isn’t it weird that New Yorker’s centennial coincided with SNL’s 50th?
Listening to:
oh what a great musical rec
Yes I love NYC....but laughed out loud at the beginning of your post. Substack took a minute to loud your first picture so the caption you in the snow was simply a white box.