R. Crumb, “Tales of Paranoia”
- Democracy Chain
- 1 day ago
- 4 min read
by Michael Shaw
David Zwirner Gallery, Los Angeles, California
Continuing through January 10, 2026
Spoiler alert: R.Crumb is an anti-vaxxer. And a conspiracy theorist. But Crumb’s probing, self-critical dive into why he’s gone down this path, including some very specific re-creations of conversations he’s had (one with a doctor friend of his particularly stands out), is drawn in his inimitable cross-hatched style. Now 82, that celebrated draftsmanship has been developed and honed over the course of a long career. It makes for a disorienting but well-wrought trip.
Crumb is his own harshest critic when it comes to evaluating just how paranoid he is — about vaxxing, 5G networks, and yes, the Deep State — and is nearly as comprehensive questioning his own motives and sanity as he is marshaling his fierce anti-authority tendencies towards his many targets. Given that, his anti-vaxxer posture feels almost forgivable. He’s always been a consummate crank. I’m still disappointed, even a little disconcerted, that Crumb has become this particular kind of crank … but then, it certainly helps keeps his comics — his art — as vital as ever.
The works here are for the most part original drawings, framed and hung in clusters such that each has the potential to make up a complete comic book. I happened to begin my viewing — which in this case entails a good amount of stand-up reading — mid-exhibit, with the series “The Very Worst LSD Trip I Ever Had” (2023). It’s an immersive recounting of a bad trip he had in Cleveland in 1966 with his first wife, Dana. Their bad trip was overseen by the individuals who gave them what may or may not have actually been LSD. He and Dana, alerted by a blood-curdling scream down the hall, rushed over to witness a young man curled up in the fetal position, “in an abject state of extreme fear …” with one of the drug givers hovering over him. Crumb’s recounting, in which the young man’s experience feeds into thoughts of his own, is a beautiful mixture of fear, empathy, and rage. It’s storytelling at its best. Much of the rest of the show has Crumb grappling with the powers that be (aka, “Authority!”). They run the gamut from “Deep State Woman” to Dr. Anthony Fauci to all the other co-conspirators attempting to poison him with their bogus drugs and even more bogus information.
Amid all this, there’s the light and amusing patter he maintains with his late wife, Aline Kominsky-Crumb, who was his collaborator on several works on view and served as the voice of reason and refuge to buffer Crumb’s incessant Questioning of Authority. She draws herself into many of Crumb’s sequences in a way that merges their two very disparate styles (hers much looser and more folksy, verging towards ‘Bad Drawing,’ if that old label still applies). One great panel of thought bubbles reads: (him) “The problem is, maybe I Am crazy … crazy people usually don’t know they’re crazy;” (her) “Maybe he’s not crazy ... Just obsessive compulsive and his Aspergers makes him paranoid an’ alienated … But what the hell! I’m no picnic either.”
I can’t help but wonder why Crumb remains one of the few comic-book artists to acquire this level of canonization from the art world. His representation by one of the world’s elite galleries, where he’s shown since 2007, accounts for most if not all of it. Indeed, the entire far wall, opposite the entrance, is dedicated exclusively to the show’s title, painted rather luridly in black text on a yellow background. There’s also a state-of-the-art lightbox that allows us to thumb through pages of Crumb’s sketchbooks digitally without having to bother with archival-friendly gloves, or otherwise risk tainting the valuable drawings. “Crumb,” the 1994 Terry Zwigoff documentary, went a long way towards building his reputation as a massive record collector and music aficionado, his fetish for full-figured women, and his childhood in a deeply dysfunctional family environment. But when it comes right down to it, he’s simply the Original and the Best.
His black ink drawings (all of which the checklist readily acknowledges include the use of correction fluid), are profoundly strong objects of craft, as well as art, each with its own aura. It’s hard to think of another living artist whose drawings display more hand-drawn mastery. Pair that with Crumb’s seven-decades-long pop-cultural legacy (“Keep on Truckin’”), his vaunted eccentricities, his dandy-ism, and his quirky charisma. It’s simply hard to find another comic artist who’s as robust a candidate for canonization on the art world’s radar, despite his carefully cultivated old-white-cranky-male persona.
The late Christopher Hitchens, whom Crumb draws and quotes in the final panel of one series, sums it up best:
“My own opinion is enough for me and I claim the right to have it defended against any consensus, any majority, anywhere, any place, any time. And anyone who disagrees with this can pick a number, get in line, and kiss my ass.”
To which Crumb adds below Hitchens’ portrait: “I don’t agree with everything this writer ever said but I’m with him on this.”
Michael Shaw is a Los Angeles-based artist and activist. His work was recently included in the exhibition “Meshuganah” at A Very Serious Gallery in Chicago, as well as the exhibitions “Sociality” at LA Tate gallery in 2023, and It’s My House! at the Porch Gallery in Ojai, CA, in 2022, and has been exhibited throughout the U.S. He is the recipient of a Culver City Arts grant in 2023, a Puffin Foundation Grant and the Rauschenberg Emergency Grant in 2022, the Center for Cultural Innovation’s Quick Grant in 2021, and the New Student Award at Hunter College, where he received his MFA.
Visit Michael Shaw’s website.
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