Over 10 years and four graphic novels loosely following the trajectory of his own life, Walter Scott has satirically skewered art-world pieties through his self-doubting millennial artist-heroine, Wendy, and her revolving posse of weirdos, posers and nihilists.
Author and illustrator Walter Scott.Manoushka Larouche/Drawn & Quarterly
Along the way, the 39-year-old artist, who grew up on the Kahnawake Mohawk reserve south of Montreal, has built up a loyal readership, whose luminaries include Zadie Smith, Roz Chast and Naomi Fry, who wrote a profile of the Wendy books in The New Yorker.
The first three books saw Wendy making her way – thanks in large part to the insecurity-dampening effects of drugs and alcohol – through art school in Montreal, residencies in various global locales and a Master of Fine Arts degree in a small Ontario town (called Hell in the books; Scott himself attended the University of Guelph).
In The Wendy Award, potentially the final instalment of the series, Wendy – now a struggling artist living in Toronto during the pandemic – finds herself nominated for the prestigious FoodHut award (Scott, a multimedia artist, was nominated for the Sobey Art Award). Instead of happiness, however, the nomination triggers in Wendy a bad case of imposter syndrome.
In addition to The Wendy Award, Scott recently completed an animated short film featuring a puppet Wendy in outer space. He’s also working on a new body of paintings and sculptures for a show at Montreal’s Fonderie Darling next year. He spoke to The Globe via Zoom from his current home, in Montreal’s Plateau neighbourhood.
We associate art with freedom, but many of the characters in the Wendy books struggle with conformism: They’re terrified of making a misstep or saying the wrong thing. Is that how you felt at art school?
I did encounter a lot of that attitude, and I tried to do my best to not let it infect me. I went to art school thinking it was a space for experimentation. It was a way for me to have a studio and make work for two years because I was pretty nomadic before that: subletting or couch surfing. So, it was a way for me to have some structure.
And I’m sure there’s some people that would scoff at me, saying that I didn’t take it seriously. But I think it’s important to not take it that seriously if you’re going to get something out of it, otherwise you’re going to be paralyzed by the expectations of everyone else and the institution, on top of your expectations for yourself. That’s kind of a mood killer, I think, for making artwork.
So, what was your own route to art school?
The medium-length story is that I graduated from Dawson College after studying cinema and communications. Then I took some time off. Worked at a video store and bummed around Kahnawake. Then I went back to Concordia University. I wanted to do film animation at the Mel Hoppenheim School of Cinema. But I didn’t get in, because they were looking for something more experimental, and I had made this portfolio that was more conventional, Disney. And I’m kind of glad that I didn’t, because then I went to art school. I ended up specializing in printmaking, which dovetailed with my interest at the time: poster design.
Did you draw and read comics as a kid?
I’ve been drawing comics ever since I can remember. In high school, I made this comic-book series that I would sell on the school bus for $1. It was my first small business. And every month or so I would make a new zine. It was also a way for me if I felt socially awkward, to exit high school for a lunch break and go to the depot on the corner and Xerox my artwork.
Are there other artists in your family?
I’m the only graphic novelist-slash-white cube artist, but my father is a pretty skilled draftsman. He’s made his own rifles from scratch. And then my aunt does really intricate beadwork on clothing.
I don’t know if this is an Indigenous culture thing, but I’m thinking about that side of my family and how they all have specialized interests in arts or science or crafts.
So presumably no one tried to discourage you from pursuing art?
No. And I think at least for my dad’s side of the family, it made sense. One thing my parents were rightfully concerned about was that I wasn’t focusing on my studies enough in high school. I would rather draw than study math. But when I was in the classroom, it felt like the only way for me to keep my attention focused on what the teacher was saying was to doodle at the same time. It creates a buffer that the information can filter through if I’m doing something cognitively at the same time.
When they’d take my paper away from me, I felt like an ant whose antennae were cut off. I’d have to sit and focus on the teacher’s face when he was talking to us, it would just make me not hear anything.
The books and characters have clearly struck a chord. But your satire can also be pretty sharp – any objections to it?
I’m happy to say that a lot of it has been pretty generous, loving and supportive. But if I do a one-off thing for MoMA or Frieze magazine, and it ends up on any of their respective Instagrams, there’s always going to be weird hate. Like, this is misogynist. This is making fun of art. This is making fun of students. This artist is punching down.
And then I’ve had weird, manipulative DMs like, could you rewrite it? I think people forget that I’m a private citizen and that I don’t actually owe them anything personally.
You’ve said this will be the last Wendy book for a decade. Why?
I want to do other things because inking page after page of graphic novels, I felt like I was my own sweatshop employee. I’m excited to work in other modes for a while. I want to use plaster. Or pour resin into weird moulds.
And I feel like it’ll be interesting to revisit Wendy after she’s lived life for a while. I also think it’ll be really exciting to take stock of where I am 10 years from now. See how that is represented in the novel, but also give Wendy an opportunity to be a completely different person. Maybe she’s a tired art professor at that point, or a skin-care advocate or a mother. Or maybe she has three cats and an ex-husband. Who knows?
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