Her drawings lure the eye irresistibly no matter what they happen to depict. She clearly believes artists - herself included - should steer away from all self-certainty, especially the certainty of reaching an audience. Davis’s whole attitude seems to humbly bespeak your indulgence, and her central message is that, when it comes to art, everybody needs to lighten up.ĭavis doesn’t spell out this idea in words, but expresses it through her predominant mode. This story of nine artists working in diverse media neither exalts nor ridicules their various creations (even though it does destroy them twice over).

A modest 5 1/2 inches by 7 inches, Why Art? begins with a handful of goofy jokes and ends with a fable. So, it’s not surprising that she asks the highly provocative question Why Art? with an evident blush at her own presumption. Instead, Davis eschewed an overarching narrative, concentrating on small moments and quirky stories. Chronicling Davis’s cycling trip from Arizona to Georgia, it could have been a bombastic, sweeping road epic. Last year’s You & a Bike & a Road was similarly unassuming, taking that most prosaic of forms: a journal. The doodles had no purpose except to belie profundity and keep the reader off-balance. In one, a group of people zipped themselves into a giant bag for no clear reason, explaining only that “it was specially made in the Netherlands.” In another, a man with the outline of Mickey Mouse’s head on his shirt cut off a sleeping woman’s fingers (bloodlessly, with scissors). In 2014’s How To Be Happy, the comic artist interspersed long, painstakingly drawn narratives with silly little black-and-white doodles. Modesty comes naturally to Eleanor Davis. It tells your audience you want only to guide and enhance their taste, not trample all over it with your giant opinionated paws. It also serves as an implicit pledge of your ethics.

A ritual demurral doesn’t just pacify those expert readers who wait, daggers quivering, to eviscerate hubris. IF YOU’RE GOING to write about art, you should probably start with a gesture of modesty.

You & a Bike & a Road by Eleanor Davis