Daniel Robert Hawkins is ‘Dan Dan Doodles’ – your local source for “Doodles and noodles (nude-els?)”…Add to that: clever wordplay and a good laugh (or at least a proper smirk, if you’re more of a tough nut).
If you’re not yet acquainted with Hawkins’ particular flavour of art and humour, then a quick perusal of his IG feed should provide an easy explanation why we were so interested in learning more about the person behind the amorphous “people” and cheeky captions populating it…And once you’re up-to-speed, keep the momentum (and chuckles) a-coming by diving into our recent Q&A with the Vancouver artist below:
First off, please tell us a bit about yourself. How long have you been “doodling” for?
I can’t pinpoint a time the doodling started. But I ran into an old friend from high school the other week, and they reminded me how we used to pass comics back and forth in English class, trying to make the other laugh and get into trouble. They were very innocent comics, like apples in fruit bowls with faces and having jobs. Active still life. No penises or drugs, or something you’d expect from highschoolers. Just fruit getting to work.
Were you a creative child? What was your relationship with art and writing growing up?
I could never really draw that well (and still believe I can’t). I always considered myself lousy at art, and never really pursued it until later, in my 20s. But growing up, I was inspired by Gary Larson’s The Far Side. My family had all his books and I memorized all of ‘em. And a bit later, David Shrigley was introduced into my life. After seeing his crude drawings (he’s probably a very talented artist) I thought to myself, “Well, I can’t draw either, but I guess anyone can make a comic.”
So I tried my hand at the single frame comic. I liked the idea of trying to squeeze humour into a single box. It felt like a puzzle. And to make things more challenging, I started drawing the comics in MS Paint. The visuals were horrendous. I was learning to draw with a mouse – a practice I still use today. But soon enough, I started getting them published in my school’s newspaper. Looking back at some of those comics now (Corpus Christi Comics), I can’t say I always understand the humour. But they exist.
And I stuck with it. When you put yourself in that frame of thinking, you start seeing the world through a panel of comics. And after a good friend of mine mentioned that they could see my formula, I felt seen, and this challenged me to scramble my algorithm to be more unpredictable. Turns out that this is a useful approach to making comics, playing with expectations; ‘The Incongruity Theory of Humour’. I went down a rabbit hole on this subject, and coded a program that could make computer-generated comics based on this theory. And ended up publishing a paper on this concept in grad school, which I’m sure your readers are dying to read.
OK, sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t get into dissecting comics through academic theories of humour. Best way to kill a joke. Next question.
Your pseudo “pen name”, Dan Dan Doodles, has a food reference in it. Which begs the question: how much do you love Dan Dan Noodles? What’s the story / how did you get this nickname?
Sadly, not much of a story. But I do love Dan Dan Noodles. And doodles. And I want to be sure people catch my name, in case they miss it the first time.
More food questions! What’s with the hotdog fascination? Also, what is your preferred hotdog topping?
Haha I haven’t considered this. I guess it’s just because my ‘guys’ come out looking like hot dogs when I use water colours. The thing with watercolour paints is that there is no going back. You can’t erase. But you can extend. So their shoulders and torsos just keep getting longer. It’s not deliberate. I’m just trying my best to make a normal person.
Best hotdog topping?
Mayo, and something pickled.
What is the funniest food, in your opinion? How about the most serious?
Maybe the banana. Very fun to say. And write. Just keep mashing a’s and n’s for a while. As a single fruit, they look really awkward when separated from the bunch. And oh boy are they funny when someone slips on ‘em.
Most serious food?
The hotdog.
Sarcasm/facetiousness, dark humour, body humour, nudity, self-deprecation and puns all seem to be big parts of your artwork. As such, your drawings are basically guaranteed for a good laugh. What makes you laugh out loud, personally?
Unfortunate situations plus time. Being trapped on a train across Canada infected with campylobacter, with a very small man who reeked of stale booze? Not exactly funny in the moment. But add a day or two? Hilarious. Then a few days later, still infected with campylobacter and experiencing diarrhea all along the skytrain on my way to my first day of school? Comic gold.
That, and the absurd.
You just completed a hike along the West Coast trail…Care to share some of the highlights/takeaways from the experience? What is your relationship to the outdoors and how does it inform your art (if it does) directly or indirectly?
Come to think of it, hiking the West Coast Trail follows a similar structure as good comedy to me. Give a challenging situation some time, and look back at it later and it’s fun. Type 2 fun. I had to remind my partner of this concept with every ladder rung. But it’s a beautiful trail, with tons of wildlife. I like to hope it inspires my art, but I can’t find a direct connection.
Your latest project is an illustration zine called Body Languish. Can you please summarize the concept/story for us?
It’s a collection of my latest comics. I was drawing comics with one of my nieces one day, and she explained to me her approach. She said, “You need a character, a setting, and a problem.” Ingenious! So I usually start with a body. And then I imagine some kind unfortunate situation… i.e. languish? OK, that’s a stretch. It was more just a fun play on words.
Another one of my nieces asked me why I draw naked bodies all the time. I couldn’t say why. But I think it may have to do with being too lazy to paint on clothes.
There is a certain level of spontaneity evident in your style – kind of like an amoebus watercolour blob magically transformed into human(ish) form. Which comes first, your illustrations or the (hilarious and catchy) captions that usually accompany them? Please describe your artistic process for us.
This is a good question. I’m often trying to understand my own process, but can’t say I’ve figured out the secret formula. Most of the time the image informs the caption. That’s part of the creative nature of watercolours that I love – the spontaneous blobs of water create amorphous shapes (wait, is that a contradiction?), and our eyes and imagination fill in the rest. Sorta like watching clouds pass overhead.
And other times a random thought will come into my head. Like, are aliens interested in anal probing for scientific research, or is it a perversion of one industrious alien? And do the citizens back on their home planet know this is how their tax dollars are being spent? What will their ‘Welcome Home’ ceremony look like? Then I’ll spend way too much time trying to figure out how to get that joke into a box.