In the mid-1970s, cartoonist Art Spiegelman began a relationship with Françoise Mouly, who would later become his wife. She reassured him that he needn’t worry about accompanying her home, noting that even muggers in New York avoided her Soho neighborhood. Shortly after, Spiegelman moved in with her when a fire destroyed his Greenwich Village apartment. The blaze was ignited by his landlord, a hoarder whose clutter eventually caught fire after a cockroach crawled out from his collar during a rent collection visit.
This narrative reflects a classic New York tale, and much of Spiegelman’s life aligns with the stories we cherish about the city. The couple’s Soho apartment, which they have occupied for five decades, is now valued in the millions, nestled among upscale boutiques, with Spiegelman’s studio located above a Tiffany & Co. store nearby. Spiegelman humorously remarks, “It’s just kind of an embarrassment; Tiffany’s is not my class,” referring to the influx of luxury retailers that he dismissively labels as “very fancy airport mall stores.”
In the past, the couple printed their unique comics using a Multilith press Mouly had set up in their home after leaving architecture school in France. Today, they are recognized as a prominent artistic couple in New York. Mouly serves as the art editor for The New Yorker, a position she was offered by Tina Brown in the 1990s as part of an effort to revitalize the magazine. Spiegelman made history in 1992 as the first cartoonist to win a Pulitzer Prize for his graphic novel Maus, which recounts his father’s Holocaust experiences. He has played a pivotal role in elevating comics as a serious artistic medium capable of addressing complex political and personal themes. Reflecting on their journey, Spiegelman notes, “It’s not a ‘recipe for success’; we were just doing what we wanted to do.”
At 78, Spiegelman, with a scruffy appearance, complete with a grizzled goatee and thinning gray hair, remains a fast talker. On a hot June afternoon, he offers coffee but becomes sidetracked by stories from his past. He gives an impromptu tour of their home, pointing out the now-removed 1,000-pound printing press that once occupied their living room until it posed a risk with a toddler around. The walls are adorned with murals, including one by cartoonist Gary Panter, and another above their bed that replaced a shelving unit which collapsed during the night, injuring Mouly. This incident led to a significant book purge, prompting Spiegelman to quip, “Is this book worth dying for?” despite their still extensive collection of books and art scattered throughout their home.
Spiegelman began his career designing collectible parody cards for Topps while immersing himself in San Francisco’s underground comic scene. After relocating to New York, he co-founded Raw magazine with Mouly, which showcased experimental works from diverse comic artists. Spiegelman recalls it as creating a “Potemkin village” of artists, all distinct from one another. His seminal work, Maus, was first serialized in Raw, with new chapters released whenever he completed them.
Finding a publisher for Maus proved challenging; many were unsure how to categorize such an unconventional narrative that depicted Jews as mice and Nazis as cats. Despite interest, publishers deemed it “not publishable.” Ultimately, Pantheon took a chance on it, leading Maus to become a bestseller. While Spiegelman has expressed feelings of being overshadowed by his most famous creation, he admits, “I’m ambivalent about absolutely everything… I knew I wanted it to be read, but I never anticipated it would become a phenomenon.”
The creation of Maus stretched over 13 years, often a laborious journey for Spiegelman. He describes his creative process as akin to facing a blockade rather than a mere block, feeling an impostor syndrome that complicates the initiation of new work. “I know I’ve done comics before, but I have no idea how to start a new one,” he explains. His self-awareness regarding his artistic limitations leads to meticulous reworking of each panel. “I don’t just go: ‘Okay, I finished this graphic novel; I’ll do another one!’ Something must compel me through this challenging process,” he shares.
After largely stepping away from comics to focus on essays and cover designs for The New Yorker, the 9/11 attacks jolted Spiegelman back to artistry. Witnessing the north tower ablaze from his Soho apartment, he rushed to collect his daughter, who was attending school nearby, and later his son from the UN School, fearing further attacks. This event echoed the warnings his parents, both Holocaust survivors, had given him about the convergence of personal and global history. “I realized I wouldn’t move past this unless I started drawing about it,” he concluded, prompting a return to his comic work.
