![]() He was almost thirty-eight, with a bushy mustache and bleached blond hair. “I never got a reply,” he said.īy 1988, he had become depressed. When he was twenty-one, he mailed his sketches to a satirical magazine along with a letter asking for advice on how to become a cartoonist. “I was born with a talent for drawing,” he told me. Because of his sense of humor, a kindergarten teacher called him “Micky Maus.” He left school at fifteen to become an apprentice sign-maker, spent time sketching, and tried his hand at caricatures of politicians and celebrities. He grew up in a working-class family in West Berlin, in the nineteen-fifties, and spent his childhood tinkering with chemistry kits and sending gunpowder rockets whizzing into the sky. ![]() This content can also be viewed on the site it originates from.Īrno Funke wanted to be a cartoonist, but it wasn’t working out.
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