Ryan Sinon is this issue’s Spot Artist Extraordinaire. His art casts a nostalgic vibe, but with a sharp, modern edge. This playful ad gives us just a taste of his prolific imagination and leave us wanting more!

How do you feel about breakfast? (And, if you had breakfast today, what was it?)

I eat breakfast every morning. If breakfast were running for office, I'd vote for her. I love breakfast. What did I eat today? A protein shake. I have one every morning. They’re fast and easy for college students on the go. Here’s how to make one: I toss some strawberries, a banana, a scoop of whey powder, a cup of milk, three ice cubes, and a dash of magic dust into the blender. Then I liquefy it and gulp it down. Done. It keeps me full till about noon. The x-ray vision wears off at about 1:30, sometimes 2:00.      

You’re an artist & a writer. How did you get into two creative disciplines that some people would place at opposite ends of the creative spectrum? Do you plan to use the two talents together for good or evil?

Well, I have to be honest here. I was an artist long before I ever decided to become a writer. I grew up carrying a sketch pad and a box of crayons everywhere I went. It wasn’t till college rolled around that I started expanding my horizons and stepped into writing stories. But I think, more than anything else, I’ve always loved storytelling. My parents and my grandparents always read to me. Plus, I grew up watching movies, especially the old Disney classics like Alice in Wonderland and Snow White. I especially loved Snow White. Another secret of mine: I dressed in drag as a little boy. That’s right. I threw a blanket over my head and pretended to be the evil witch boiling poisonous apples to murder Snow White. Ah, those were the days.

But I digress. I think growing up with such a love of storytelling drove me to want to create my own stories. So I took a good hard look in the mirror and asked myself how I might go about making stories, and since the most familiar and natural tool at hand was paper and a pencil, I gravitated towards that—I made stories with my pictures. Then, when I was older I thought, why not try writing too, and voilà! I fused the two disciplines into one. As far as good and evil go, I’d say I’m generally a pretty nice guy. So I wouldn’t want to cause anyone harm with my talents. Plus, the kind of writing and drawing I do would be difficult to hone as tools of evil. But I have had fantasies of committing crimes. I prefer the comic book villain approach to things which involves dressing up in a cool costume and stealing precious works of art and valuable artifacts from museums.

Comment on the perspective that art & writing are two different creative disciplines. What challenges have you faced being one person who can do both?

I’ve no idea why people assume that once a person has a skill or talent, all other skills and talents are off limits. It’s really very ridiculous. On one hand, I can appreciate an artist devoting themselves to one creative form, sticking to it and becoming an expert in their field. But on the other hand, if you’ve got an itch, scratch it—that is to say, try things out and see what happens. If a pianist suddenly has the urge to paint a picture, why not do it? What’s the worst that can happen? Sure, the painting might look horrible in the end. But, it might also reveal something completely new. Who knows how a musician will interpret using a paintbrush and a palette of colors? And after he or she has finished, how will having painted a picture affect the pianist’s musical compositions? Deep, huh? I thought so.

As far as my own challenges go, I’m a more confident artist than a writer, probably because I’ve been drawing longer than I’ve been writing. Despite what the general public says (and really, who wants to listen to them anyway?), writing and drawing are closely linked. They’re both fueled by imagery. Think about a book or story you love. In your mind’s eye you can recall your favorite parts, your favorite characters; and certain favorite scenes play out like a film in your head. Art’s the same. It’s based on creating images for an audience. Even though a painting or drawing doesn’t move like a filmstrip, it can still set into motion the viewer’s imagination, allowing them to think about what happens beyond the frame. Whoa.           

How do you think art & writing can work together as one art form? What could this look like/be like/act like/smell like?

In my case, writing and art must go hand in hand. One can’t outshine the other. I do my best to allow my drawings to inform my stories and vice versa. Does that make sense? Probably not. Let me explain it in normal-person talk: When I write and draw together, what always happens is I get an image in my head. Usually the image is so weird, so freaky, or so striking that it sits in my skull and simmers for a few days. That’s how I know it’s something worth pursuing. So then I start to write a story based on this image, and while I write, I discover new images just as rich as the first.

After the story is finished (I rarely ever draw a picture until the story is written and done), I have to make a decision. I ask myself, “What scene should I draw a picture of?” Sometimes the picture I choose to draw is that first image I saw before writing the story. Other times it’s a completely different image that I discovered while writing. Either way, once the story is complete, it tells me what to draw. It speaks to me. It whispers in my ear and says, “Ryan, draw this.” I know it sounds all hocus-pocus, but it’s the honest to god truth. Even while I’m drawing I’m still, in a sense, writing the story because I’m having to see it in a whole new way: as a concrete image on paper. So I suppose that’s how I see art and writing working together in my own work.

As far as smells go, I’d say peanut butter on toast.            

I hate to ask this, but I simply have to know: do you ever refer to yourself in 3rd person?

Pffft! 3rd person? Are you kidding? I refer to myself in the fourth person.

How did you come up with the “ads” spot art in Cicada?

Well, let me share a small sliver of my childhood with you. Take my hand, dear reader, and travel back with me to 1989 when I was a wee nine year old with a modest comic book collection. Printed on the very last page in one particular comic were a bunch of tiny advertisements for outrageous and magnificent junk. I remember one particular ad for a hover bike. The barely discernible black-and-white picture of a young boy sitting on what appeared to be a raftlike machine flying through the air captured my attention. It cost five dollars. Five dollars!? My imagination went wild. Not only could I afford a five-dollar hover bike, but just think of how fantastically famous I’d be riding—no, flying! my hover bike down the streets of my quaint suburban neighborhood. “Why haven’t other kids jumped on this incredibly affordable deal?” I asked myself. “Why are kids still pedaling bicycles when the streets could be filled with hover bikes?”

I immediately ran to my father to show him the advertisement. But when I handed him the comic, he brought it up close to his nose and squinted. Then he handed it back to me and said, “Read the fine print,” while pointing to a barely legible line of text beneath the picture of the flying boy. It read, “Send in for an instruction manual on how to build your very own hover bike.” I was devastated.

So I suppose, to some degree, this is the seed for what I eventually created for the magazine. Other things went into it, too, of course, like my love for old horror films, carnival posters, etchings, my curiosity about the supernatural, an appreciation for dark humor, and a passion for tricking people into believing the unbelievable. Hopefully a few readers will fall into my trap and send me money for unicorn’s blood.              

Who are your favorite artists & authors? Why?

I love the old fairy tale illustrators like (brace yourself for pretentious name dropping) Rackham, Beardsley, Tenniel, and Doré. I have a book on Mucha. He’s good. And Érte, the fashion illustrator. And I like Edward Gorey. I have quite a few of his books. I also have a special place in my heart for the drawings of Chris Van Allsburg. If I ever met him in person, I’d pee my pants a little. He’s that sensational. I could go on, but really, there’s only so much room and you, dear reader, have only so much patience.

Why do I love these artists? Three reasons: (1) they all have unique and distinct styles; (2) I love their subject matter, especially the fairy tale illustrators; and (3) they masterfully create mystery. All their drawings make you lean in a bit closer or pause to take a second glance. I always seem to find new things or linger in the details. Their art goes off like dynamite in my imagination.

Now for literature (again, the names will start dropping soon, so get out your umbrellas), I’m drawn immediately to magical realism. Favorite books include, but are not limited to Cosmicomics by Italo Calvino, One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez, The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, all of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales, all of Oscar Wilde’s fairy tales, and the Brothers Grimm. I was also incredibly geeky as a kid and, as a result, know a lot about hobbits. Probably too much. This list could go on for ages, but I’m cutting it here.

Why do I like these writers? Because they have a bit of the enchanter in them. Because they write their stories with one foot in the world as we know it and one foot in a completely magical place. My advice: read them before you’re dead.

What fuels your ability to provide a wide range of creative solutions, from art to writing?

Someone once said to me, “It must be hard coming up with so many ideas.” Perhaps I’m off base here, but I think it’s fair to say that most artists have tons of ideas. What’s hard is actually disciplining oneself to do the art while living your life. I suppose it’s easier to keep up with my own art as a college student since my professors give deadlines and I’m surrounded by other artists. But I have a sense that after I graduate and step out into the world, one of the biggest challenges I’ll face will be staying on the creative horse.

With that said, I try my best to be a careful observer and follow my curiosity. Let’s say I go out Friday night and see a really well-made film. Even though I’m not a filmmaker, I still watch the film with an eye towards story and imagery. Anything I find compelling, even something as small as a character’s hand gesture or how light falls on an actor’s face, is up for grabs. I lock it away inside my head where it floats around with whatever else is up there, or, if I’m diligent about it, I’ll write it down so I won’t forget it later. I try to keep up this habit of careful observation with all things, from books I read to other artists I observe to living my life day to day.

Then afterwards, I get really excited about all my observations, especially when I see what other artists are up to. Seeing other people’s creativity fuels me with a sort of healthy competition. “Look at what this artist is doing!” I might say after visiting a gallery or flipping through a book, and it makes me want to rush home and get to work. I think that’s what drives me most; I see what great things other artists have accomplished and I want to be up there with them. I don’t mean in some famous way, no. It’s more a sense of having finished something as beautifully and completely as I’m possible of doing. It’s about surprising myself with my own work, to look at it and be able to say with confidence, “I did that.”          

Let’s do a backwards interview on this one. You give me an answer & I’ll come up with the question.

I’m a big fan of making lists. So I’m going to make a list of ten things I can see from where I’m sitting right now: (1) one white mannequin hand, (2) one tin He-Man lunchbox, (3) one Victrola record player, (4) one pair of cowboy boots, (5) two dead tarantulas behind glass, (6) four dried splotches of red paint, (7) one copy of Don Quijote by Miguel de Cervantes, (8) one bag of chocolate-covered cherries, (9) one iron mermaid, and (10) one dry-cleaning receipt.

Well, Ryan, you went above and beyond by giving me not only the answer, but the question, too. This interviewer thanks you wholeheartedly.

I like to ask Spot Artist Extraordinaires what kitchen utensil they would be & why, but quite honestly, I’m getting bored with this one. Can you come up with a better question? (This interviewer is getting lazy. It’s just disgraceful.)

You should try that protein shake mix I mentioned earlier. It’ll give you more stamina.

O.K., so my question’s going to be, “What super power would I want?” Maybe it’s a cop-out, but seriously, I’ve thought about this question all my life. As a young boy, I’d have chosen flight. During my junior high years, telekinesis. While in high school I had a brief fantasy to shape shift and after that the ability to walk through walls. But these days it’s teleportation, meaning I disappear from one spot and reappear completely intact at another location. It would make traveling places a breeze, which is good because I hate traffic and sometimes get a wicked case of road rage. And gas is stupendously high these days, so I’d be saving money and lowering my carbon footprint.

I should also mention that anything I touch or carry in my arms can teleport with me. If I held your hand and used my powers, then you’d get to share the experience and teleport with me. Or, let’s say you’re moving to a new apartment and you have to carry a sofa down seven flights of stairs. Just give me a call, and for a reasonable fee I’ll teleport it down the stairs for you. Better yet, toss in a few more dollars and I can teleport the sofa into your new apartment! I’d be able to travel the world in a single day, rescue cats from trees, and save babies from burning buildings. I’d teleport old ladies across busy intersections, and at night I’d teleport into your house and eat from your fridge. Creepy? Nah.                 

What would life be like without pictures or words & what do you think you’d do in a world like this, a world where you could not be a writer or an artist?

I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d travel to Belleville, Wisconsin, the self-proclaimed UFO Capital of the World, and pray to the cosmos for aliens to abduct me and take me to their word- and picture-filled planet. I’d even suffer probing, so long as it got me off that godforsaken globe.