starting with her own words and then going to a great obituary by Rob Clough to finish at a moving rememberance by Anders Nielsen.
You just look at that drawing below with a menacing cloud over her and the bright colors of her daughter's drawing mirroring her happy last moments with her. What really troubles me though is the empty word balloon. Maybe these are the words she will never be able to tell her as she grows up. It's sad beyond belief...
I hope that no one minds if I publish this great work of art here.
One last thing: I loved the words of Dylan Horrocks:
She introduce herself [at Angoulême] and gave me the most beutiful little book I'd seen in ages. [My wife] Terry and I hung out with her a bit that week and she treated us like co-conspirators, talking about the weirdness of Angoulême and her own feelings of disconfort. She was like a wild animal creeping around a zoo, looking in horror at the cages, afraid she might end up in one. Later, she sent me comics and records, and we saw her again when she came to New Zealand to play some gigs. I'm so glad we got to see her play. Her comics are among my favorite art of any kind, ever. Sometimes this world seems so cruel, and this is so awful and sad. But her art makes me fall in love with the world, with all its darkness and pain and beauty and love, and looking at it now is like a gift. She never went in the cage.
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