Interview with Maurice Vellekoop, I’m So Glad We Had This Time Together: A Memoir

Maurice Vellekoop was born in Toronto in 1964. After graduating from Ontario College of Art (now OCADU) in 1986, Maurice Vellekoop joined Reactor Art and Design, an agency for illustrators. In a more than thirty-five year career, Maurice Vellekoop has worked for top international editorial and advertising clients, published numerous zines, comics and books, created art for animation, and participated in art shows around the world.

I had the opportunity to interview Maurice, which you can read below.

First of all, welcome to Geeks OUT!

Thanks, what a pleasure to talk to you!

What can you tell us about your new graphic novel, I’m So Glad We Had This Time Together: A Memoir? What inspired you to create this project?

My graphic memoir operates on two levels: on one it’s a fairly straightforward story of a queer person growing up in an intensely Protestant community, and the resulting rift between a son and a loving mother who can’t accept her son’s sexuality because of her beliefs. On another it’s about a lifelong love affair with making art and delighting in cinema, books, music and theatre. It’s about the intense joy that can be found in art, but also the pitfalls of sublimation. That is, trying to find sexual and emotional fulfilment in fantasy and culture, rather than actual human relationships.

I was inspired to create this book, to paraphrase Quentin Crisp, for three reasons: I needed the money, I felt I had something unique to say, and it was something to do to pass the time!

How did you find yourself getting into storytelling, especially comics/graphic novels and memoir?

I was never a huge comics nerd as a child. I liked Mad magazine, and Illustrated Classics, but I was not into superheroes at all. In the 1980s I discovered RAW magazine and it blew my mind. I started drawing comics because of artists like Joost Swarte, Charles Burns, Sue Coe, Mark Beyer and Jerry Moriarty. 

How would you describe your artistic background?

I grew up in a house where art was revered. My parents had an art library that I grew up studying. I learned art history from a very young age by looking at picture books. Later I went to art school for illustration, inspired by older my sister, Ingrid. I idolized her. She wanted to be an illustrator, so I did too. Since graduating from Ontario College of Art (as it was known then) in 1986 I have worked mostly as an illustrator. I published short comics and zines in my spare time. The graphic memoir is my first full-length work.

As a creative, who or what would you say are some of your greatest creative influences and/or sources of inspiration?

I get inspiration from nearly everything! I love just walking down the street and observing how people present themselves visually. Beyond that I love and am inspired by the classic New Yorker cartoonists like Charles Addams, Mary Petty and Peter Arno. Classic Hollywood has always influenced me; everything from really cynical black and white film noir, to the saturated colours and high camp drama of 1950s Douglas Sirk ‘women’s pictures’. As a young man I gorged on world cinema from the 20th century in Toronto’s rep theatres. Fellini, Visconti, Renoir, Bunuel, Ray and Antonioni are my gods. I listen to a lot of opera while I’m working too, I love getting lost in long, dramatic music-narratives. I’m sure opera has informed my work. Figuring out how the composer tells the story in music is more exciting to me than the singing!

Maurice Vellekoop Photo Credit Lito Howse

Growing up, were there any stories in which you felt touched by/ or reflected in? Are there any like that now?

If you mean was there a lot of queer examples around, hmm, not really, you really had to dig to find them, and they weren’t usually very positive. What I did have were all the 1960s and 70s supernatural TV sitcoms, with their casts of freakish outsiders. Shows like The Addams Family, The Munsters, Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie were inspirational because of all the outrageous situations, and the idea that the weirdos were the normal ones, and normal people were dull and boring. Oh, those fabulous character actors too! 

The first positive representation of a healthy, self-accepting gay man I encountered was Michael York’s character in Cabaret. My sister took me to see it when I was around sixteen and I still treasure everything about that film. Today we are so lucky to have so much great LGBTQ2S material, thriving despite all the book-banning.  

Besides your work, what are some things you would want readers to know about you?

Ha! Audiences will find out plenty when they read the book!! Seriously though, I am a very dull, old, happily partnered person who is very fortunate to be able to go to my table every day and make art.

What’s a question you haven’t been asked yet but wish you were (and the answer to that question)?

What’s with the colour in your book? Why are some of the chapters in a limited palette, and some in full colour?

“I’m So Glad” you asked me that! The limited palette refers to my childhood consumption of children’s books. I bitterly resented books that were printed in duotone because I thought the publishers were just being cheap, and I only wanted to experience the richness of full-colour printing. As a grownup I now love the look of those books, and so most of the chapters are in two-colour. Also, a large part of the book deals with depression, and the world can seem flatter and less colourful when you are depressed. The full-colour pages occur whenever something really great occurs, just like when Dorothy lands in Munchkinland in The Wizard of Oz.

Finally, what LGBTQ+ books/authors would you recommend to the readers of Geeks OUT?

Hmm, taste is so personal, and as someone intensely fascinated by history, I tend to skew to writers from the past. I reread Noel Coward’s and Tennessee Williams’s stories regularly. I love Christopher Isherwood, who wrote Goodbye to Berlin, which Cabaret is based on. Cecil Beaton is a personal hero, his diaries are wicked fun. More contemporarily, I love Edmund White, Alan Bennett and and Jeanette Winterson. Lauren Hough’s recent essay/memoir book made me laugh and cry. Oliver Sacks’s On The Move was fantastic. The writer Colm Toibin is a great favourite. In comics I love the incomparable Alison Bechdel, as well as Jillian and Mariko Tamaki.

I would strongly suggest to every queer person that they read a biography of Oscar Wilde. (I love the Richard Ellmann one.) Not only will you be entertained by Wilde’s wit and seduced by his charm, but you will discover the roots of modern queer activism. His sensational trial for sodomy, and his passionate, public defence of homosexuality shone a light on what was, in the late 19th century, an illegal and secretive world. His imprisonment and early death were the tragic consequences of the cost of his sacrifice. It would be decades before the sodomy laws would be abolished, in the UK and elsewhere, and many more gay men would suffer, but we all owe a great debt to Oscar. He was one of our first heroes.

R.I.P. Joel Schumacher

This week we lost gay filmmaker Joel Schumacher at age 80.  Although openly gay from the beginning of his career—he started out as a costume designer before making the leap to film directing with 1981’s quirky The Incredible Shrinking Woman—he wasn’t known as a “gay filmmaker” but rather a successful A-list, mainstream director with an impressively wide range.  He directed everything from drama (the 1985 “Brat Pack” hit St. Elmo’s Fire) to horror (cult classic vampire flick The Lost Boys) to a big budget musical (The Phantom of the Opera).  But for me, and many movie fans, he’ll forever be known as the guy who directed Batman Forever (1995) and Batman & Robin (1997), two of the most polarizing superhero movies in cinema history. 

Arnold Schwarzenegger (Mr. Freeze) and Schumacher on the set of Batman & Robin

I did a piece on Batman Forever five years back, reflecting on how it’s underrated and was likely a victim of homophobia; it was, however, a huge box office hit, scoring 184 million in the US.  In recent years, fans of both this movie and Batman & Robin have become increasingly vocal and have sought to change the narrative surrounding them while frequently shouting out their subversive queer sensibility.  I myself came around from ranking on B & R to enjoying its loopy charms.

Michael Gough (Alfred), Chris O’Donnell and Val Kilmer in Batman Forever

In hindsight, it seems remarkable that Schumacher was able to make mainstream, high profile movies as blatantly campy and queer as these two Batman films.  Ostensibly sequels to Tim Burton’s visionary Batman and Batman Returns, Schumacher’s installments amount to a reboot before that term became trendy.  He jettisoned the relentlessly grim tone that had marked the previous films and leaned more in the direction of the campy 60s Batman.  He finally added Robin (Chris O’Donnell, the hunk who launched a thousand gay awakenings) and played his villains as larger than life nuts, rather than the tortured souls who faced off with the Dark Knight in the Burton films.  The films featured homoerotic tension between Riddler (an amazingly fey Jim Carrey) and Bruce Wayne (Val Kilmer) and Batman and Robin—much is made of the latter characters becoming “partners.”  When it comes to female characters like Debi Mazar’s moll Spice and, especially, Uma Thurman’s brilliantly over-the-top Poison Ivy, a drag queen aesthetic reigns—heck, Riddler even appears in a tiara and earrings at one point.  Nicole Kidman’s hormonal Dr. Chase Meridian is so unabashedly sexual that she comes off as practically a surrogate gay man. (Earlier this year a meme circulated likening photos of Kidman in a question mark chair to gays’ infamous inability to sit correctly.)  The films can’t resist bawdy dialogue like “hang out much in biker bars, Bruce?” or Chase openly lusting after “black rubber.”  (Of course, the rubber suits featured in Schumacher’s movies notoriously added nipples.) 

Thurman as Poison Ivy in Batman & Robin

All of this speaks not just to a queer sensibility, but to an overall sense of fun.  In Batman Forever: The Official Movie Book by Michael Singer, Schumacher says “This is what we do for a living.  If we can’t approach it with joy and fun, what’s the use of doing it?” In behind the scenes footage, Schumacher puts his arms around Batman co-creator Bob Kane—whose character first appeared in 1939, the year Schumacher was born—and appreciatively gushes “I wouldn’t have a job without him!”  Kane pats his head good naturedly and says “Atta boy.”

That sense of joy and fun extended to all of Schumacher’s films, which notably featured gay and lesbian performers like Lily Tomlin and Mark Blankfield (The Incredible Shrinking Woman) and John Glover (Incredible, Batman & Robin).  His screenplay for Car Wash (1976) featured a sassy Black queen named Lindy, who at one point tells someone “Honey, I’m more man than you’ll ever be and more woman than you’ll ever get!”  Shrinking Woman is a kooky, candy-colored variation on Richard Matheson’s sci-fi novel in which household chemicals cause Tomlin to shrink; The Lost Boys (1987) is a teen vampire thriller in which Kiefer Sutherland tries to seduce cute Jason Patric into a life of bloodsucking, all set to a killer 80s soundtrack.  Schumacher injected personality and life into larger than life moviemaking, and his talent and energy will be missed.