Drawn in the USA

It takes a lot to get me up to London these days. Work sometimes does the trick. Free lunch, no. Marches, hmmm. Party, very occasionally. Old girlfriend, possibly. But I legged it up to London at top speed last night to get to the opening night of a show of cartoons by Arnold Roth.

Who? Well, Arnold Roth is the guy who sent me the best Christmas card I got last year. It showed Santa with team of reindeer sitting on top of a mosque, clearly lost, while the muezzin pointed him in the right direction. (Second-best was a card from Steve Way, showing King Wenceslas out in the snow saying: "Yonder peasant! Have you thought of changing your energy supplier?" Clearly, cartoonists do their own best cards...)

Arnold Roth is also one of that select band of artists who may be thought of by the public as cartoonists and caricaturists, but who are actually far better than that. Most cartoonists develop a style that is ideally suited to their job: ie, a brusque, brief, shorthand style that shows the situation, does the joke and makes the getaway. Larry is a good example. Osbert Lancaster was another, as are all pocket cartoonists.

But a few inspired figures go way beyond that. Ronald Searle is one. John Glashan was one. Steadman... Scarfe... Tenniel... Daumier... Yes, they are all people who sprang from cartoon backgrounds and went on to become wonderful artists, and Roth is up there with the best of them.

If you haven't heard of him, I guess that's because he is a good American, and we are interested only in bad Americans. When we say that Britain is swamped by American culture, we mean that it is swamped by the worst of American culture; we forget to import the best. We let the burger chains and the baseball caps in, and the Oscar ceremonies and all that crud, and forget the Californian cuisine and Dave Barry and Ruby Braff and... well, and Arnold Roth.

I heard someone say recently that the true style of America, the real native style, is the Gothic. That may well be true. Think of Poe, of Ambrose Bierce, Charles Addams, all those Frankenstein remakes, Edward Gorey, Maurice Sendak, Kinky Friedman... And, if it is true, then Arnie Roth is one of the greatest living champions, because his drawings unfurl like orchids in a Nero Wolfe hot-house; they spread tendrils; they are luxurious and sly. His people have India-rubber limbs that go all over the place. His drawings are choked with detail, yet they move all over the place, as if caught in a high wind...

And yes, I suppose I am saying these things because I am an old mate of his, even though I haven't seen him for years, which is why I legged it up to London last night. I used to see Arnold Roth quite often when he made a transatlantic visit to Punch, so I am biased by knowing also that he likes jazz and tells the best stories I ever heard. In my office at Punch, I often used to keep a double bass, and Roth was the only cartoonist I ever knew who would sidle into my room, holding an alto sax, and say, "Miles, what do you say to a quick 'Blues in F' before lunch?" Ah, dear, dead days. Roth was also very Jewish when it came to stories – ie, he told the best stories you ever heard, and, to this day, I think his one about the grandmother is the best of all funny stories.

No, of course I'm not going to tell it now. One day, maybe, when Arnold is out of the country and isn't listening. For now, I just want to urge people to get along to the Cartoon Arts Trust and see the work of a master. Yes, yes, Constable and Delacroix, yes, yes, Titian, yes, I'll try to get to those if I have the chance, but Arnold Roth is my No 1 destination.

Cartoon Arts Trust? You've never heard of that? Gosh, you're making it hard going for me today. Well, it's in the Brunswick Centre, in a windswept piazza in London, on Bernard Street, near Russell Square Tube station. Honestly, I thought you Londoners knew your own city. It comes to something when an out-of-towner has to tell you these things.

Anyway, I have a little space left over, so perhaps I will tell you this Jewish story about the grandmother who takes her little grandson down to the beach one summer's day...

Continued some other time