Born from the union of a carp and a rabbit, Bill Plymptoni is the living successor of O. Henry, James Thurber and André Breton. He is also an eternal teenager upon whom time seems to have no impact.
At the end of the masterclass, Bill Plympton will be giving away the drawings he does during the session.
Whether in animation, a single cartoon or a simple caricature, I see in each of his shorts or drawings a freedom which is the trait of eternal youth: schoolboy jokes, naughty words that fly and flee, limits exceeded with relish.
Of course, a kid who sticks his fingers in his nose or plays impossible pranks from morning till night soon becomes an intolerable pest. But the child is also our double, with infinite power; immortal: a poet who sees in a tree the mast of a galleon; in a trash can lid, a mighty shield; in a branch, a laser sword.
Bill Plympton’s works are at their core wonderful contradictions. They have simplicity of line and animation that has a sort of amateur feel, yet are also of incredible virtuosity. Seemingly hatched from schoolboy jokes, they are in fact meticulously constructed and monstrously effective.
If you are not familiar with Bill Plympton, you are about to discover his cruel and irresistible world, a unique universe that embraces both the most poetic films (the marvelous Idiots & Angels) and some of the most vulgar or grotesque scenes imaginable. This man is loony and adorable, and he transports us into his irresistible craziness. He is afraid of nothing.