Jim Woodring has always done his own strange thing. This is one of his least flashy pieces--and one of my favorites. No psychedelic colors, no whirling radial deities with a hundred eyes; no Manhog hurting and being hurt so vividly you wince; no surreal images with narrative boxes where words postmodernly clash with the art. Just a dream about being an artist trying not to botch it. And failing. And getting that pep talk from the Overseer (it may be safer not to ask just who He is.)

I've read too much Jung not to suspect the dream's saying that over many lives and centuries, Jim's been trying to sculpt his own soul.

--Chris Wayan

SOURCE: Jim vol.2, no.1, 1993 (Fantagraphics), pp 11-21. Untitled; I added Sculptor to aid searches.

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