Ed Steed on what it takes to become a cartoonist for The New Yorker

It is a weekly ritual for many to open up The New Yorker and head, not to the news, the listings or the reviews, but to the cartoons. Breaking up the magazine’s long reads for as long as anyone can remember, the cartoonists found in its hallowed pages have as dedicated a following as many of its journalists. In its rotating cast of cartoonists, many have a particular favourite too, and one with a fond following is Ed Steed.

I have been part of the cohort following Ed’s work for a number of years now, looking out for his wit and signature scratchy line mark in issues and online. But there is little to be found about the man himself. Ed Steed has no online presence besides fan pages set up in his honour, which is an uncommon decision in the current creative landscape of sharing – and finding work – through posting pieces on the web.

A few years back, I set out with the intention to interview him and wrote him a letter, but received no reply. Months later his artwork featured on the cover of a few albums, which led me to try getting in contact with him through PRs, again to no avail. At the beginning of this year, I made a last-ditch attempt and contacted Nicholas Blechman, The New Yorker’s creative director, who agreed to see what he could do. At last, Ed dropped me an email.

He responded to my fondness for his work, and my general interest in him, with what felt like a mix of surprise and indifference. We chatted over the phone and agreed to conduct an interview through a series of questions, sent via email over the past few months. Slightly reserved in some answers, Ed Steed is a character much like one of his drawings: a little timid, very, very sharp and at times so undeniably funny you only want to know more.

INTWhich artists were you looking at when developing your drawing style early on?

ESI was just trying to draw in a way that looked sort of professional – you have to keep it fairly simple, so the joke can come across clearly. Since then I’ve just been trying to get better, to draw funnier characters and write better types of jokes. Over the years I have started to enjoy drawing more… or I just find it less frustrating than I used to.

I learned from some other cartoonists by looking at their work. Charles Barsotti taught me how to write single-panel jokes. I like John Glashan too, and William Steig, Steinberg and Andre Francoise. But when I’m working, I don’t look at other cartoonists work too much – it’s distracting.

INT I listened to an interview with Nicholas Blechman, in which he discusses how cartoonists head to The New Yorker once a week to present their work. Are you part of this group?

ES You can take your cartoons and show them to the editor. I have been a few times, years ago. I didn’t find it very helpful. You’d bring in drawings you’d spent all week working on and he’d skim through them in two seconds, not really looking at them. It was a bit depressing.

INTWhat about a piece of feedback or guidance you try to keep in mind when working creatively?

ESI never get much feedback from the magazine about the cartoons, other than which ones they want to buy. Sometimes they will fix the spelling or something, but no artistic feedback. They just leave you to get on with it. Which is nice. But lately, I’ve been in New York and so I sometimes meet people who have seen my work and they talk to me about it. It’s nice if they enjoyed it, but it’s distracting. I don’t want feedback.

INTYou recently completed your first cover for The New Yorker and a second just a few weeks back. How was that process?

ESI really wanted to do a cover. For the first one, I thought if I draw something so dense and beautiful, with all these nice faces, then they’ll surely buy it. It would be too difficult for them to turn down. The baseball one was an idea I’d had for a while, to make a long, boring comic about a single pitch. An almost meaningless pitch that misses the strike zone anyway, and all the effort and hard work that goes into that, from the players and umpires. It could have been ten times as long, but there’s only so much room on the cover.

INT Did working towards a cover require a different approach?

ES It was a different type of drawing altogether, lots of lines and small patterns. Those kinds of details would get in the way of a joke cartoon. A cartoon usually needs to be read quickly. But I wanted to make a cover that you could spend a long time looking at.

INT Does working on projects where you can build a larger narrative interest you?

ES I’ve made a few comics before but I’m not very good at longer things, there are too many different parts to think about and I lose momentum. With the single-panel cartoon, you can be quite spontaneous, there is no need to plan ahead.

I would like to get better at comics, but mostly I’d like to do more big drawings, album covers and magazine covers. Things like that where I am just drawing, and not obliged to tell a certain type of joke.