"It was really kind stuff," he says of the artwork, flipping through a lush portfolio. The money is a holdover from his previous employment: first as a graphic designer his cereal boxes and diaper packaging may still be found in Quebecois supermarkets then an illustrator, one of the first computer artists in Montreal, whose blocky, layered collages of gingery people enjoying themselves spread cheer throughout the pages of Today's Parent and The Chicago Tribune, among many titles. "I like a little security in my life to have some money to go on vacation." "Maybe I'm not enough of an artist," Rabagliati shrugs.
A toy kitchen range squeezed to one wall next to a photocopier, a wall-length cork board tacked with posters and sketches all manner of cartoonage above expensive-looking computer equipment, a polished light table and an ergonomic office chair. The atelier is cosy and bright, beyond clean. "Stop it, Biscuit," the cartoonist calls as he swats the pet away, but it follows you, tongue-to-limb, past the kitchen and down the stairs to the immaculate basement studio. You are in the foyer of Michel Rabagliati's suburban home a tan, well-kept, sensible abode.
A foot-long poodle is licking your shins.
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