Yeah, I talked about “Homestar Runner” two weeks ago. That’s fine. I’m going to talk about it again. Here I go. Let’s dance.
This past weekend, I drove up to Atlanta for an anniversary concert for the web cartoon “Homestar Runner.” The two folks who produce the cartoon, brothers Mike and Matt Chapman, put on the most incredible musical event that could possibly come out of a web cartoon, and I loved it. It took place in a restaurant to a crowd of about 150 people and lasted about 3 hours with a brief intermission.
There’s something to be understood about the “Homestar Runner” fan base: It’s very niche. Everyone at the concert was a superfan, that is to say. With that limited number of about 150 tickets available, anyone who got a ticket really wanted it. So, these folks knew “Homestar Runner” like the back of their hands; the pre-show crowd banter consisted of nothing but references and inside jokes. These folks cared about “Homestar Runner” deeply, but I can’t say I enjoyed talking to many of them. Beside the fact that everyone at that concert was, to some extent, a socially inept geek (except for me, of course), I couldn’t find anyone who had something really constructive to say about the cartoon. Every dialogue I had was just an exchange of funny moments we liked in the cartoon or a discussion of how we found the website. No one, however, talked to me about “Homestar Runner” as a work of art. I would ask, “Why do you think it’s so funny?” I’d usually get a shallow answer.
After the show, I had the pleasure of meeting the Chapman brothers, who I can now say with certainty are absolute role models as far as artists go. They were incredibly humble, maintained their sense of humor and respected every audience member they met. I had a 10-minute conversation with Mike about profanity in his works of art and a 10-minute conversation with Matt about metahumor in both his works and my works. We talked about the artistic process and how we do or do not rely on our audience. We discussed world building and canon. Matt Chapman showed genuine interest in my comic, for which I’m incredibly grateful.
Ironically, the most community I found was with the creators, not the audience. When I spoke to an audience member, I got the impression I was talking to a consumer, not an artist. “Homestar Runner” has a huge impact on the art I create, and I tried to convey that as well as I could to the Chapman brothers. The words we exchanged were so much more meaningful than a “thank you” or an “I love your work.” We respected each other as artists and acknowledged what it meant to make a long-standing work of art like “Homestar Runner.” Conversely, I felt like the audience didn’t fully appreciate the work the Chapman brothers have done.
I realized creating art is such an important part of appreciating art. Knowing what goes into a comedic work made me understand more clearly why “Homestar Runner” is so successful and so groundbreaking. When I spoke to the Chapman brothers about their work of art, I wanted them to know what I enjoyed and why I enjoyed it. I wanted to let them know what I learned from their art, because that, to me, is how to respect an artist for their work. So, create art. Make art. Make the kind of art you enjoy. And when you fail — like I do daily — realize what it means that the artists you appreciate succeeded. Don’t just make art because you want to create, but make art because it makes its consumption that much sweeter.
Michael Smith is a mechanical engineering junior. His column appears on Tuesdays.
