The Palestine Chronicles

In 2004, my now-wife and I visited and stayed in the West Bank in–in Hebron– for about 5 months.

My wife–then just a girlfriend–possessed the type of righteous fury about The Situation that you can only really access when you're in your early 20s. I, a goofy kid with a mothball-smelling military jacket, and some pens, tagged along for the ride. I'll admit, Jeo Sacco's Palestine held a great influence over me. I thought, if one Joe can do it, why not me.

We went with a group of Europeans, on an EU-funded cultural exchange, due to my dual citizenship. There was a Casablanca-like romanticism amid the death and misery, something only a white Western guy like me could consider at the time.

I look at these drawing now with a mix of cringe and awe– how in the world did I decide to use that stupid typeface? And also: I think I was just as good or maybe a better comic artist then? My lines have gotten so much looser. Maybe too loose.

The people in these comics are adults, with children of their own, or maybe dead. And yet they still shimmer for me in these comics,: it feels as if it all happened yesterday.

Free Palestine. 🇵🇸