Daniel Clowes (middle) and Thora Birch as Enid in her room.
HERMENAUT: You show Enid’s shelves groaning with ponderous sex books, ’60s French yé-yé girl records, Scooby-Doo stuff, grotesque dolls. This is a self-portrait, right? In your story “The Party,” you depict yourself as thinking, “Jesus, it always depresses me to see the stuff that hipsters have on display in their apartments… It always seems so childish and unoriginal, but it’s really not much different from my stuff.” Why are you, and Enid, so attached to this, well, kitsch?
CLOWES: I don’t like how the word “kitsch” is usually used. Like I said, I take it more seriously than just: “Amusing Things To Laugh At.” Actually, although I think about stuff from my own childhood a lot, things I haven’t seen in years, all I have to do is see the thing once and I’m cured of it. I’ve recently bought video tapes of cartoons I hadn’t seen since I was four or five years old, and I’m enthralled by them exactly one time, by this feeling of “Wow, this is what I was so interested in?” My memory had turned them into something much more fascinating than they actually were.
Read the rest of the interview here.
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