Portrait of the artist as a chimp
Illustrator Ross Murray has learnt to live with crippling anxiety. And it’s his latest comic book hero has helped lift the weight off his shoulders, writes Matt Shand.
Butter melts on homemade scones as illustrator Ross Murray describes how he’s managed to get a monkey off his back. Surrounded by a kaleidoscope of art from previous comics and his designs for McDonald’s share boxes, a copy of his latest graphic novel, Rufus Marigold, sits on the table next to a steaming coffee.
It’s an insightful deep-dive into anxiety from a man who admits the debilitating illness is ‘‘a deeply significant thing in my life’’.
It’s also playfully autobiographical because his choice of protagonist, a chimpanzee called Rufus, also lives with anxiety and decides to create a webcomic about his experience – eventually publishing a book which bears a remarkable resemblance to the one currently sitting next to the scones and coffee.
‘‘I find it interesting to see where the art and creator blur,’’ Murray says when we meet.
He appears relaxed, a far cry from the comic-book depiction of severe anxiety he’s drawn from personal experience. For Murray and Rufus, a ringing phone carries dread; social gatherings require pre-loaded self-medication; in extreme cases, personal encounters induce nausea.
Anxiety is so prominent in Murray’s life that even his personal website – a CV of graphic design studies, an Auckland ad agency career and reference to his vintage travel poster work – details that he ‘‘spends most of his spare time trying to remember to breathe’’.
In Rufus Marigold, the protagonist suffers from a fear of speaking to media before his book launch – and this plays out in real life, too. ‘‘Ross suffers from pretty bad anxiety and meeting with journalists can exacerbate that. He would much prefer to do an email interview. It’s more comfortable for him,’’ a staffer from publisher Earth’s End says.
But when one-in-six New Zealand adults are affected by mental health issues, sharing stories about refusing to be defined by an illness are important. Email interviews can miss the heart of the story.
Example: this 47-word response from Earth’s End to a question about the challenges of the process: ‘‘Rufus is made up of short, stand-alone vignettes of uniform length that require a certain pacing and cadence for effect so the most challenging part of creating it was having these individual episodes combine to form a larger narrative arc that had its own sense of rhythm.’’
What?
The email interview is scrapped, and a meeting arranged. Murray’s wife, Kate, makes the scones.
Despite his publishers’ warnings, Murray shows few signs of anxiety. But that is perhaps the point – you never really know someone’s struggle until you do, and now many people will know Murray’s thanks to a chimpanzee called Rufus Marigold.
The inspiration for using a chimpanzee to personify anxiety came from Murray’s perception of how others viewed him, he says.
‘‘It’s how I saw myself at that stage of life,’’ he says. ‘‘Rufus is a manifestation of self-loathing on his behalf. I felt primitive. Unevolved. A slave to a sensual dread of being human.’’
The meta-narrative shines. Rufus is able to recognise his illness and decide it will not define him. He becomes a published artist and learns to be more than an anxious person. The finished book is the story’s punchline.
In the story, Rufus’ coworkers, whom he actively tries to avoid, are unable to see Rufus’ anxiety and carry on oblivious albeit with furtive glances. Avoided social meetings, awkwardness, hatred of those that are confident; fear that everything he does is wrong – these are all stops on of Rufus’ journey.
Ignorance of mental illness was prevalent when Murray was young. ‘‘Anxiety was never talked about growing up,’’ he says. ‘‘It was something I kept as a closely guarded secret. Perhaps it was useful (for our ancestors) when big cats were chasing us but it does not work well in a modern city environment. I always felt such shame about it.’’
It was after university when the illness really started to alter the way Murray lived.
‘‘I ended up drinking a lot,’’ he says. ‘‘It made me feel outside of myself. I didn’t think it was not normal as there was a big binge-drinking culture in New Zealand so I just thought it was what we do.’’
A desire to avoid modern life took Murray to rural Japan teaching English where he figured a new environment away from busy city life would help avoid the stress and pressure brought on in social interactions.
But it had the opposite effect. He began to dread speaking even to a classroom of six-year-olds. ‘‘Just standing in front of these kids, who were all so nice, was almost impossible.’’
Murray returned to New Zealand in 2003 and
‘‘It’s how I saw myself at that stage of life. Rufus is a manifestation of self-loathing on his behalf. I felt primitive. Unevolved. A slave to a sensual dread of being human.’’ Ross Murray
found that mental health was starting to become discussed openly. That led him to visit a psychiatrist and receive the tools he needed to cope.
Because he wanted to share his journey with others, a project on anxiety was always on the cards but publishing Rufus Marigold has produced a marked change for him, too. ‘‘It was as if a huge weight had lifted and I can talk about it now. Rufus
Marigold . . . is not a self-help book. I don’t think there is anything constructive in suggesting ways of overcoming anxiety. I wanted to give some account of the way I felt when suffering from it. It’s not something everyone understands.’’
While the events in the comic are drawn from real life, some events are purely comical and rely on Murray’s dark humour – although he did grapple with whether humour and mental health mixed.
Most scenes show Rufus in a state of total distress – even running through the streets on fire (a drawing Murray is particularly pleased with).
And that, he says, is the point – you have to find a way to have a laugh at yourself.
The overall message from Rufus is positive. The chimp becomes more than a nervous wreck, he stops feeling defined by his awkwardness and anxiety, the overbearing dread starts to wash away and, while it is never cured there is hope he can overcome obstacles.
There’s a slight-but-noticeable glimmer of relief from Murray when the face-to-face interview is over and he can return to his work. A major car manufacturer has him on a tight deadline and there are many other illustration projects that need attention.
But it’s clear that Rufus has become as important to Murray as his once-daily dose of serotonin inhibitors and his acceptance of his anxiety. Because he sought help to redefine himself, Murray has well and truly got the monkey off his back and into print. He can stand a face-toface interview. Work as an illustrator. Be a father of two. And be married to his wife who, truth be told, makes a mean plate of scones.