Robbie Conal’s 11 Reasons to Get Out of Bed and Be Grateful You’re American

Always with a finger on the pulse of America’s soul, Robbie Conal’s signature style is that of our darkest imaginations come to life on poster board. He expresses our frustration with shady political figures in his careful, emotionally razor-sharp, and highly controlled drawings. Sketching honest images of our darkest fears in the two-dimensional flesh has been Conal’s constant contribution to the chaos for the last three decades. But his current art focuses on politic positives while remaining wholly Conal authentic -- painting skull images as the new happy face. We asked a very seriously silly Robbie Conal, in the spirit of hopeful change, to leave the rants behind and give us his 11 best wake up and call the beautiful USA home.

1. Cats. Between 5am and 6:30am every morning, our young male brown Tabby cat, Baodhisattva, tiptoes over to my side of the bed and gently but insistently taps my cheek with his forepaw. If that doesn’t get me up and shuffling along toward the kitchen with the cat tolerance level of 3 minutes, Smilla, our 13-year-old, begins scratching up the part of the New York Times Book Review that I haven’t quite gotten to, until I’m up and being escorted to their food bowls by you know who.

2. Deb Ross, My Wife. Deb’s a movie title and print designer with perfect design pitch. She comes up with beautiful beginnings of movies (The English Patient, The Talented Mr. Ripley, Michael Clayton, Sunshine Cleaning, etc.) and applies her movie magic touch to mornings around here. Deb’s always appreciated a good slice and dice of repartee, but she wasn’t brought up to think funny. A couple of years ago, quite suddenly or so it seemed so to her marginally attentive husband, she began to get funny. She’s getting funnier every day. I look forward to mornings with her for many reasons, but one is to laugh with her at her jokes and chart how much funnier she is, say, this morning.

3. Coffee and Newspapers. Hooked on Peet’s fresh dripped coffee. The New York Times and Los Angeles Times both laid out neatly by Deb, messed up completely by me.

4. About Those Newspapers. I read the morning papers. I get mad at the morning papers. I tear up the morning papers. Every morning. It’s not a choice—it’s genetic. Both my parents were union organizers in New York. Make that Manhattan. The Upper West Side. OK, so it’s also environmental (emphasis on the mental). I have 23 years of shredded newspaper articles under our bed, flopping over the night table, stuffed into folders, bursting out of file drawers, in row upon unruly row of recycled three-ring binders, stuffed into dresser drawers, piled in yellowing layers on top of my desk. I track stories of abuses of power by public officials, corporations, CEOs—yes, mortgage banks, religious leaders, the military, and so forth and so on. I’ve limited my “professional research” to our own perpetrators in the USA because they’re the bad guys I know best—or, more accurately, I at least have a chance of knowing something about them.

5. World Music. I get up for world music. It’s got me surrounded. Mornings in the studio, world music helps me get out of myself and feel connected to, yes, the real world. I know you’re thinking my subtext here is that LA, somehow, isn’t keeping it real, but that’s not it at all—if anything, LA is keeping it too real. The socio-economic pressure on Angelenos is, like, nasty palpable.

6. The Shift in the Zeitgeist. I’m so up for this. How long has it been? Too long. No, it ain’t like I think there ain’t plenty of bad guys left to paint, but things are different now, and karmically speaking the gradeaux of all those years, every morning turning the corner into my studio knowing I’d be spending a full working day, or most probably, a hard day’s night, surrounded by all these huge portraits of ugly old white guys in suits and ties—urk!—the cumulative residue was up to here. It was depressing enough then. This is now. Time to shizzle up some new shit—even accentuate the positive. Wow! This Z-Shift has been sneaking up on us, on me, for sure all this last year—and not just us. It’s a global shift. Like the world’s been waiting for us (Americans) to rejoin it.

7. Young People. I’m into them. No, not in that way ... I believe in them. They’re my people. Kids can show us new ways of receiving the world. New ways to participate in it. I love that. Exhibit A: SKULLS. What’s up with all the images of skulls everywhere? Who changed their meaning (or maybe it didn’t change and we’re just doomed)? Why are skulls suddenly ubiquitous: on jewelry, caps, scarves, table napkins, plastic drinking glasses, and diapers? I asked a 15-year-old, so let me explain: The image of a smiling skull and crossbones is, arguably, the most transgressive logo in the history of western civilization. Pirates, right? They raised their flag, you saw it, you knew they were going to take all of your shit and kill you. Game over. That was then. Now the image has now been domesticated ... so the reason the skulls are fucking everywhere is: The skull is the new happy face. Now if we can just reverse the curse and get the kids to take over the means of production and make movie studio honchos the eager consumers—hint, YouTube—it’s happening.

8. I’m an Optimist.

9. The Single Living Organism. The mother Earth. Gaia. But she’s in a serious relationship so don’t fuck with her!

10. Life Is a Gift.

11. Natural High Lifestyles Boutique. They promised me you can smoke the pants.

Photo: Charlie Chipman