Why Dave Kloc sells posters in a comic book shop every Wednesday
by Elise Granata
Does art imitate community, or does community imitate art? Let’s visit the first option: a universe where the vibrant, undulating heart of an arts community inspires the work created in it. Where art is so deeply tied to an ecosystem– the people, the space, the weather, the kind of taco everyone had that night– you can’t help but tell a story when experiencing it.
Dave Kloc has (at least) 220 good stories. Each one is a gorgeous silkscreened poster created for The Meltdown, a weekly comedy show in the back of Meltdown Comics in Los Angeles. Each Wednesday, a couple hundred people pour into the back of a comic book shop to see some of the best comedy in LA. It’s packed. It’s sweaty. There is Sprite. It’s not clear where the line for Batman ends and The Meltdown begins. Read more about the show’s history in our interview with its founders here. Either way, this is the weekly inspiration for Dave’s work. Both Dave and The Meltdown’s legacy are seriously linked; the result is a happy ecosystem where the best alternative comedy and illustration in LA thrive.
Read on for an interview with Dave done in February 2014, just before Comedy Central started taping the first season of The Meltdown. Read on even further for a more recent interview done while Dave had vertigo on a couch this December.
What is your background as an artist? Who are your influences?
I have actually never considered myself an artist. I’m an illustrator. I feel like artists always need to have a sense of purpose; I just like drawing and making posters. When I graduated high school I was the only kid who didn’t go to college. I moved from Detroit to Massachusetts to paint hockey helmets. That was when my boss convinced me to go to art school. I went to University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. I had a weird concentration in Performance Art because I got along really well with the professor that taught that. I wish I took more fine art classes, but I kind of just wanted to graduate and leave.
And the space between now and then was filled with what?
I tour managed with bands for a couple of years. Some punk bands, a couple country bands: The Swellers, Set Your Goals, Wilhelm Scream, Streetlight Manifesto. When I was doing that I was like “Oh, whenever I stop this I’ll do art full time. I’ll know all these bands and that’s just what I’ll do.” And then I moved to LA and kept touring but I didn’t have a job here.
How did you get involved with Meltdown from there?
I had an old roommate who was on the first ever Meltdown show– his name was Jordan Vogt-Roberts and he was showing videos at the shop. I went out and met the host, Jonah [Ray]. He was always wearing band shirts. I’ve always been guilty of the shirt call-out with people I don’t know in any situation. If they’ve got a shirt on of a band I know I’m just like– “I LOVE THAT SHIRT!” They put it on for a reason! They’re not going to be like, “Hey man, cool it. Don’t mention my shirt.” You wore that so I could do that.
Anyway, I told Jonah that his shows felt like basement shows and they should have gig posters. He asked me if I do gig posters. I didn’t, so I was like “Yup. Yup.” And then he asked me to do them for the show and I was like “You bet.” I bought 100 sheets of paper for the first one. It was a one-color print. I got like 10 out of it. I was covered in blue ink for days. And then I just got better at it.
So that was your first experience with screenprinting too?
I had done a screenprinting apprenticeship while on tour. But looking back on it, I never really printed. It was awesome, but I must have just forgotten. Even if you had a great class, a year later you might not remember what you learned but you still know you liked it. There’s so many different little steps to screenprinting with all the chemicals and different storage you need. I knew that this *makes a pulling motion* is a motion you have to do and you need ink, but you need different sized squeegees for different things, and ink, and some paper takes different kinds of ink differently and you still have to cool it and dry it and keep it in the dark. I forgot all that. So when he started teaching me it came back and I kept working. When I realized that if I did a better job I’d sell more, I knew to keep doing a better job.
What’s your arrangement with Meltdown as far as selling your posters? They even take it on tour; my friend bought a poster of yours in Connecticut once.
It started off as a very loose business. I’m an awful business man. It started and I wanted to sell them for 5 bucks. And they weren’t selling. I would put them up for sale around the counter but people wouldn’t know what it was for. Meltdown wasn’t a thing, it was just a show. It got people wondering why they should even buy a poster.
I mean, kind of. This was in January 2011. We tried a bunch of different things. If I sold them in the store Meltdown [the shop] felt like they should get half. I kind of got frustrated with it and announced to the show that I was going to give them away and accept donations. That made sense to me because I don’t know what these are worth to people. Some people were like “You should charge 40 bucks!” but they were the only people who thought that. So I put out a tip cup, which is what I was comfortable with after touring. Whatever price you think is justified I’ll be fine with. And with that we made ten times more than we had been making.
Eventually it started to get weird where some people offered $1, and others gave $20, and then one of them would see the other guy and say, “That guy gave you $20. Can I give you $1?” It just sucked. So then I started selling them for $5. Some weeks I sell them for $10. It’s still in flux.
But you’re still going to the shows and hustling.
Every week. There used to be free beer at the shows and things were great then, because at the end of the show everyone’s just drunk and I was drunk, and we would all yell at each other to buy this poster. I haven’t missed a poster in years.
That’s so wild that this is a community you’re kind of born into…
Oh, it’s the best. It’s kind of hard to say but I don’t always go into the show because I get to see my friends every week only at that show. So we all just kind of hang out. You go in and there’s a comedian you haven’t seen, but like we’re all super spoiled at this point because it’s a lineup I would have driven across the country for just happens every week.
Were you into comedy before moving here?
Yeah, but kind of like how everyone is. I liked comedy; I like laughing.
Have you found that you’ve grown a support community by way of Meltdown?
Yeah. What’s weird is that if you look at most comedy albums it’s just a picture of a comedian, or them at The Improv, or them in a hallway, or them with a funny hat. A lot haven’t had any art. So I’ve had a decent amount of work doing comedy albums. Jonah asked me to do his album. I did Kumail [Nanjiani]’s album for Comedy Central, Jim Hamilton, John Roy. I’m doing Kurt Metzger’s right now for Comedy Central. A lot of comedians have been doing their shows around the posters for them. Ryan McManemin from AST Records, a local comedy record label, asked me to do Sean O’Connor’s album cover. It’s great because people need stuff and they’re always at Meltdown. So someone can ask “Hey, who did…” and point anywhere and the answer is that one guy did all of this.
We have this friend from school who is also a very gung-ho printmaker who I run the label with and he did so many show posters for shows that we did. It’s funny how it becomes the identity of that scene.
Oh, yeah. That’s what it’s for. To give it a feel of what the show is like in a huge stack of paper without any words. That’s pretty great. If you go to shows you kind of get to that point where you commemorate your good time by ripping a flyer off the wall. You do that for 15 years and you get to a point where you like posters.
Yeah I definitely got to this point where I passed age 18 and then all of my friends started framing posters. Have you personally talked to or met any other artists within the scene or do you feel like you have a monopoly on the Meltdown world?
There is a guy in Seattle who does exactly what I do- Barry Blankenship. We get along real well. We help each other out a lot. If you’re doing a West Coast tour or anything you’re going to go to Seattle, and Barry will do your poster. We send each other positive texts. If there was a different world or if we were different people there’d be some kind of college rivalry, but I hear comedians talking about him down here and he’s wonderful.
So is this your main gig?
Yeah. It takes up a lot of time just because of the nature of it. It’s not like I put out more work than other people. It’s just that the work I do takes more time. Today I’m just going to be cleaning screens and I won’t have anything to show for it, but on Monday when I come back to print it’ll be 6 hours I didn’t have to put into screens. I have to get this emulsion off so I have to wet this down, coat it and put chemicals on it, power-wash it off and dry it. Probably clean it again. And then coat it with emulsion. All before it’s just ready to be used later to do another 3 hours of work. And then you print! It’s just like you have to build a car every time you drive.
Yeah, it’s like moms cooking dinners. It takes 3 hours to make and 15 minutes to eat.
But you appreciate your mom!
It’s interesting growing up and seeing art be a very big part of the visual experience of bands, whether it’s for t-shirts or posters or whatever. For comedy it’s amazing because there’s not as much of an obvious intersection.
Yeah, I don’t see a future in galleries. I don’t really want to hang out with people in galleries. People who go to shows and buy posters are probably the best part of my experience. Also, Ben Sears is the best. He’s like the best of the best. Whether people know it now or not, down the line Ben Sears is gonna get it. When you look back on these bands always touring together and also being linked by art from certain artists, you’ll know they must have been really special because they were connected to those artists.
Well yeah, because it’s suggesting that whoever they worked with signed off on that. So if it’s a Ben Sears thing associated with a band I really like and he does art for another band, it can be a whole new hub for discovering art.
I definitely find bands who ask me “You’re doing art for who?” and after recognizing it know that they must be pretty good. There’s a guy in Detroit who is just as good as Ben but probably a decade earlier– Craig Horky. Ben and Craig Horky are ridiculous. I try to buy something from them every couple of months. Ben used to post those little sticky note robots. I wrote him an e-mail saying “those might be sticky notes with you but I’ll buy them from you because they’re fine art” You send them to me and I’ll PayPal you something. They’re unrelated. It’s just a robot that says ‘Come at me Bro’ and it’s one of my favorite things I have. Ben is the most talented and I don’t think he thinks he’s even good. I met him through a mutual friend he did art for because he needed advice on shirt printing. We just talked about art advice. A year later he had done 300 shirts or something. In my head I thought, “If you’re not rich, you didn’t take my advice at all.” He asked if he should charge $50-75 for shirts and I had to tell him no, man– they’ll make that money back within five minutes of selling the shirts. Ask what you’re worth.
So what informs your artistic process?
Whatever mood I’m in. It’s great because I can look back on a poster and see how miserable I was when I made it. It might be someone else’s favorite and I’ll think “Man, that was a nightmare.” If I’m bummed I can’t hide it; I’ll draw a real bummer of a poster. That being said I can’t find any correlation between selling posters and any of that. Sometimes I’ll draw something fucked up (for me) and think nobody will want it, and then I’ll sell all of them. When I draw something real pretty, no one will buy it. I don’t get it. I don’t know any more now than I do the day I started in terms of what people like.
Feedback from people doesn’t add anything?
Some weeks I’ll go in with a pile of what I think is just garbage and they’ll think it’s the best thing I ever did. I have no idea. One example is this: Everyone loves Doctor Who. I can’t stand it. I’ve seen a couple episodes and feel like it’s some high school play. So I was broke, and knew it was the only time I was going to do this. I’m just going to draw a tardis– the phone booth thing– with comedian’s names spraypainted on it. I thought I’d sell a million and I sold two. I’m kind of glad it didn’t work because that could have spawned into Seinfeld spoofs and everything else. That was just a dark day.
The joke, ultimately, is now that you have a billion tardis posters.
I really do. And I used to use this really thick chipboard paper, so I have a stack as tall as I am. You can’t ship these or roll them up.
The museum I’m at has a big focus on interactivity and a focus on people. In anything alternative there’s kindof like this amateur vibe– you were talking about the gallery vibe. There isn’t as much of a pretention that exists within scenes like Meltdown. People are able to grow their own tastes.
What’s cool about Meltdown, in a sense, is that one night you’ll have some of the best comedy in town (and arguably in the country). And the next night you’ll have an open mic. And some people see the best and the worst. I feel like a good amount of the crowd are aspiring comedians– and they all have podcasts. But there is a respect that is intrinsic with those fans that you do need to appreciate the whole spectrum of that. With galleries, it’s like when are they ever going to have middle schoolers look at their art? It changes the whole accessibility of it.
Do you anticipate Meltdown changing after being picked up by Comedy Central?
I think it would be foolish to say it wouldn’t. But, I don’t know if change is bad. The show has changed a lot, but it’s been lasting enough that it always comes back to what it should be. The sound booth used to be a table in the middle of the room. They used to do the sound from nine rows back. So they moved it and that was a big change. And I was like, “Man, the show is selling out.” And then they got rid of the free beer and I’d be like, “Man, this show is selling out.” And they’d get a new light, or new equipment and I’d be like “Man, this show is selling out.” And it was always just still great. It’s still run by the same great people, and the people keep coming back. It’s a strong enough show that it can take any changes and make them improvements.
How do you anticipate yourself growing? Did you ever see yourself painting a mural?
No. That’s all been real great. I have never done something on that scale or with that visibility before. I painted the inside of a school once for some kids and teachers who didn’t like it. But, they set me up with two guys who I never met who just happen to be from Michigan. I always get along with Michigan people. One was a guy named Dave King, so he was DK and I was DK and we were both from Michigan. It was wonderful– he was a scenic theatre painter. I asked every kind of question: Is this the right brush? Is this enough water in this cup? Is this the right amount of paint? I asked ALL of the questions and he taught me so much shit. We worked from 6AM to 7PM Saturday through Sunday. And it was the best. I would work 5 days in between and would think “I can’t wait to get done with work this week so I can go work this weekend” because that work felt like good work. It was great. And we’re going to paint over it. There was very little talk about anything besides painting– there was no comedy talk. We were so focused on the art aspect of it that it was like, nothing we do here matters more than if the person standing in front of it tells a good joke. He has to deal with that all the time as a theatre guy, and I learned a lot from him. He was the Art Director of the show. They worked together and stuff. It was the best.
While we were painting it, Paul F. Tompkins was there two days in a row. And my back would be all achy and I’d look over and see him, and Dave would be like “I don’t know who that is” and I’d be like “That’s Paul F. Tompkins” and he’d be like “I don’t know who that is. Just keep painting.”
That’s like a fever dream.
We’d be there at 6AM, five hours before the store opened. And nobody would be there for hours and hours and suddenly people would start coming in and we’d be like *hiss* People doing podcasts would wonder what the ruckus was, and we’d be like “We’re just some schmos, but you’re Paul F. Tompkins and Matt Gourley and I could talk to them about them for days.”
Are you happy with how it came out?
I submitted four designs for the main room. There’s a really fine line with something like this: it can’t look cool, because if it looks too cool it’ll distract from the comedy. If it’s too obviously pulled back, every comedian is going to poke fun at it. So it has to be exactly kind of cool and also a level of shitty. So it’s almost too plain, but it’s just right in that it doesn’t distract. It adds to the area. It’s also the kind of thing where you turn the lights on and get everyone out of there it’s like ‘What is this?” It’s just like a wet dog.
So they picked my least favorite one of my four designs for the main room, but let me pick my second favorite one to paint in the green room. That’s staying. The parts of it that I like the most were removed. I understand why all those changes were made, but I also thought that wasn’t what I wanted. But then I realized this isn’t about what I wanted, these people do this for a living and I don’t.
What was your experience like working with more bureaucracy of Comedy Central?
It was mind-boggling to me. I’d be like “I’m going to paint this thing over here!” and they would have to first run it by a lot of people. I do this blob character that is this amorphous, genderless thing. And they were like, “We really like that thing– neck down.” And Dave was like “Oh yeah, the fat cats? They’re hands people. They don’t like faces, they’re all hands.” In the original design for the green room there are faces all over it but we had to redo the whole thing with hands. With those faces there are only eyes, so you can only interpret an expression. You can’t really pinpoint what’s going on. And that’s why I like it, because it’s really versatile. When someone says “Why would he [the character] do that?” I think: why is he a ‘he’? There’s nothing to show you that thing’s a he.
I can’t imagine it will go back to normal. I’m really comfortable with it which is good and bad. The show has gotten as big as it can get because it’s gotten it’s own TV show. What comes after that? More TV shows. So I guess my involvement with it has gotten as big as it can get because it’s a comedy show and not an art show. And I feel lucky to still be able to do it. There are so many nice regulars who buy posters every week that it justifies me taking time off work to do it. I used to feel bad about it and now it’s just the way my life is.
My friend Garrett and I are getting a lot more work. He was in line at Meltdown buying posters off of me for a Grant Morrison signing. He gave me his card, and I looked up his stuff and it was really great. And then we needed someone to do our website for the label and he came in and did our website, my website, and my stamp. Everything I can’t do he can do very well. I can barely turn on a computer and he’s got three things going on at once. He’s a coder. We started this thing called Wooden Baby which is just our web stuff and he already made a website for it. Yesterday all day we got a 24 hour turnaround to do a Funny Or Die SXSW invitation. I did this gig last year for them and I had 24 hours. I went home from work early and painted all day and then sent it off. The thing is, when I lay out type it looks like I was drunk on the page. This year I painted all day yesterday and gave it to Garrett and he laid it out all night and just sent a finished poster in a billion different sizes in the morning. That’s the dream.
It just always works better that way. It just makes a lot more sense to have someone to collaborate with and bounce ideas off of when you’re doing something. It sounds like a cliche, but it’s totally true. Otherwise you get too much in your own world– you just keep making the same thing and spiral off into a weird unwelcome madness. And if you’re trying to make money, you need two people to go out and promote business.
Has your tour managing informed your experience selling art?
A lot of it has just been trial and error with art stuff. I see no problem selling my posters for dirt cheap because I like having them out there. I’d rather sell 20 for 5 than 10 for 10. I feel like Ben is doing that with shirt designs almost. Every band from 2011-13 that’s worth a damn has a Ben Sears design.
I really appreciate that intersection. It’s about this base ethic that informs everything. Some people call it DIY, some people call it independent but it informs how everything is made. Even if Meltdown does have a motion picture film you have this storied history at the base of it for you that expands beyond comedy and bands.
Yeah. You don’t have to think about doing things that standard way. You either just do things or you don’t. I’m uncomfortable every time I have to do something that isn’t that way. And it doesn’t get any easier to ask for more money for a gig.
Have you encountered any ethical lines in your artmaking?
People always ask if they can use my art for something and will offer to pay me, but I’ll just ask them to send me one of whatever they’re making and that’s fine. Some people will try to make money off of me without asking.
Part of DIY is you do it yourself because you can. Do it yourself because you take pride in it. Do it yourself because you don’t want someone else to do it.
Anything else you’d like to add?
Just that I’m really lucky to be doing it. I have a great gig where I get to draw something and have it go from my brain to someone’s hand within two days. I got to learn a craft that I really like and get to hang out with people I love in a place I really enjoy every week, and somehow I get paid for it. That’s bogus to me. The show didn’t need to have posters. They don’t need to pay me. They could be like, “Listen, man we’re not going to pay you, you’re probably going to keep doing it.” But they consistently want to pay me more and want to give me more gigs. I didn’t need to be a part of this show; what the fuck does Comedy Central care? Oh, he makes posters every week? I heard from other people they were fighting for me in meetings to get paid and to do the work. There’s a big wall of monitors that has all different perspectives from 11 different cameras. There’s a guy who’s sitting there looking at every camera and wanted to fill the entire place with posters so that there wasn’t an inch you could see on any camera at any moment where you couldn’t see posters of mine. I call it the Dad Proud Cam because every camera has something of mine on it and he’s going to be so proud.
And it just keeps getting better. I love cancelling plans to work on Meltdown posters because I’ll just hang out with someone else another time, but this poster could be on someone’s wall forever. I’ll get texts or people send me pictures of framed posters of mine. That’s great for me.
Ten months later: The Dave Kloc Additive Addendum Addition Edition
December 17th, 2014
I imagine your history has stayed the same. Unless…
Do we want to define revisionist history?
We talk about Ben Sears a little bit here, I spell Craig Horky’s name wrong…
I have met Ben Sears at this point. And I’ve met Craig Horky.
You are still doing for posters for Meltdown every week. Now that the first season of Meltdown has come and gone, has it affected your relationship with the space at all?
I am literally doing a poster for Meltdown right now. But no, not really. But now when Mike Rosenstein, the producer, when he comes to Meltdown he yells “Hey everybody look, it’s TV’s Dave Kloc!” Other than that, no– it’s just been a good reason to put even more time into each poster. Thinking the scope of it is bigger in whatever context it actually is.
Has your perception of the space changed at all?
Yeah. It’s still always sold out, but now I feel like there’s a more consistent turnover of new people. Even just with the staff– I know that’s not related to the show– but they’ve changed so much. Danielle’s not there anymore, which is a huge bummer because hanging out with her and Aaron was my favorite thing. Silicon Valley has taken off, so Kumail is there once every month. It’s still been really high quality of drop-ins. We had Dave Chapelle come in. But in terms of week to week, it doesn’t seem different.
A big part of your original interview was talking about your organic connections through meeting people in the space– people who eventually came on to collaborate with you or work with you. With the turnover you talk about, do you still feel like this networking opportunity exists?
Yeah. I just think the growing body of work gives it a little more gravity. Poster to poster it’s not changing, and show to show it’s not changing, but now it’s like “Hey, I’ve got 220 of these under my belt. Can I join your club?” I know for a fact that it was the Meltdown that got me the Spotify mural. Their curator found my work by looking for someone who could solve a weird series of connected walls in their space. He watched the show late at night and saw how the three connected walls and how they all worked together. He waited for the credits and then googled me and wrote me. I thought it was a joke.
Do you feel like you have an idea of what your future looks like in relation to Meltdown at all?
I don’t know. If there’s a season two, I want the art to be better. Art doesn’t need to be a part of a comedy show, but it’s so much a part of that show that I just want to do a way better job. I feel like I kindof dropped the ball a little bit. I don’t think the posters were as good as they could have been, and the mural certainly wasn’t in my opinion. But that’s just on me.
What does ‘something better’ look like for you?
I was balancing doing that show with work last time. But now I’ve been doing art and printing and illustrating full-time. I want to give it way more of my brain, I guess. And my time. It won’t look very different to anyone else, but when you put your ankles into something you know it.
How do you feel like your approach will change moving forward?
Bigger, better work. I want to make it look like actual art.
For what it’s worth, it totally looked like actual art.
I want to make it look like each one of these pieces was an actual focus, and not an afterthought. I don’t want them to look like flyers. There’s a difference in quality. How many people are leaving here with this in their hand and it makes it into the garbage versus making it into a frame? I want that rate to go up.
How do you personally gauge how much of yourself you are going to give to your work? Week to week, that’s a huge capacity to be churning work out on.
You know when you do a project, there are things you wish you were doing better. When you’re done with it, there are things you wish you could have done better. It’s the amount of those things that you refuse to move through. That you refuse to settle for. You could say “I’m just going to keep going, I’m the only one who notices this problem.” Or you could stop, and do no more inner monologue. Decide that this is getting fixed. I want to be able to look back and say “I’m glad I fixed this.” I want to raise my rate of that. With everything I’ve ever done, I remember finishing at a point I wasn’t totally happy with. It’s a shitty feeling.
In your ideal world, would that quality increase across the board? Do you personally work towards one level standard, or does it vary week to week?
That’s where you can hold yourself accountable. Back when I first started doing Meltdown posters, it was just something to keep me busy. I was making my money doing something else, and it was the only art I was doing. I could be like “I’m not feeling it this week” and draw a couple scribbles or some blobs. I don’t know. That was fine, but it’s also like, if you do a bad job you won’t make any money and people won’t care about it. You won’t be invested in it next week. It’s just about holding yourself accountable. It’s like a band releasing a bad album; the implications are dire. You could lose investment in yourself, your fans could lose investment in you. I’m not saying I have any fans, but people buy these posters. I want the people to be happy with them.
‘Accountability’ can be so subjective. What are your measures for how you stay accountable?
There’s this guy Aldrin who has bought every poster every week for three years now. He is the nicest dude in the world, and I literally just go: “Aldrin would like this. I’m happy.” I know he’s going to buy it, but there are weeks where he’ll go “This one rules.” And I’m like, “Boy I really want to get a ‘This one rules.’ from Aldrin.” He’s so nice, and I know he’s going to buy it. So it’s like– let that guy be my litmus test.
That’s someone who has carried through, and is a regular, and that’s the biggest thing that I’ve gleaned from Emily, Danielle and you about Meltdown. That aspect of the work will always be so essential. Without that, it’s not the show anymore.
Yeah. It could just be “a” show. All of it– it could easily just become another comedy show. Like The Weakerthans could just be another band. But they’re so good that they’re a lot of people’s favorite band.
How does the week-to-week expectation of a poster affect you? I tend to burn out when I’m churning out something weekly.
I look forward to it. It’s a lot of fun. I don’t dread it at all. I really like it; it’s a huge benefit to be able to do something every week that is fun to do. You get to get a whole idea out, and I get paid to do it. Last week I printed three different posters; maybe that’s why I have vertigo now. As long as you see yourself get better over time you don’t burn out. There are so many things you can fix while screenprinting. It’s like climbing a ladder with a ton of little rungs.
Is it ever the case where you feel like the deadlines compromise some of your work quality?
Yeah. But the goal isn’t to get over the obstacles; it’s to get rid of the obstacles before they’re there. Like, there were all of these things wrong with our exposure unit. We gave it 11 different small fixes. And then we got a better exposure unit. There’s only so many ways you can just punk rock something until you do it right.
Anything else you wanted to add to your addendum?
I’m still very grateful for anyone who buys posters or even makes eye contact with me when I’m selling them.
What have you got planned in the next year for your work?
I have a ton of posters and album art coming out in the next few months. I just did a Protest the Hero poster– those guys are really nice. I’m doing more freelancing printing for people, and I like that. I’m the busiest I’ve ever been and the most comfortable with it that I’ve ever done. I want to get like ten dogs and play with them and teach them to print.