Wallace the Brave by Will Henry for November 02, 2021

Those buildings are really leaning!! And is the seagull blowing away?!

I see london, I see France…….

I’ve worn a kilt. Spud is correct.

Flying free in the breeze, hanging from the trees, my… hair.

“Mighty Gust.” “Gusty.” “Woosh.”

You know that wind is blowing.

Ain’t nobody wants to see that, Wallace.

So, named after William Wallace?

Wallace, you’re going Sasquatch hunting without your kilt? How do expect to get one that way.

Someone needs to educate Spud on the Scottish climate.

It’s a great day to wear a kilt. Very refreshing!

Oh no, even the seagull is getting blown away!

I see the wind suddenly changed direction in the last panel.

A good heavy weight wool kilt is surprisingly warm

Will Henry misses no detail. There are white caps on the ocean.

Crunchy leaves up your skirt is not a good look.Splendid artwork. I don’t have whitecaps but I have the wind wind wind …

Is that a missing dog poster?

Is to

Yeah…kinda gotta side with Spud there, Wallace.

Too much information…..

For the experience, and bragging rights, I’d do it.

…said no American boy ever!~

Stendahl’s syndrome, Florence syndrome, hyperkulturemia, kinesthesia, synesthesia. I’ll come back to this.

Once, when I was maybe twelve years old, I was with my mother in a fabric shop. Bored, I flipped through a book of fabric swatches. I turned a page and saw a color somewhere between French’s mustard yellow and light brown. My head seemed to spin, I felt sick, and only felt normal again after I closed the book. Another experimental peek, and the sick feeling returned instantly. Slam shut.

Decades later, I read about a syndrome (sometimes described as psychosomatic, sometimes claimed to be imaginary, sometimes named as a “nervous condition”) that elicits ecstatic wonder (and sometimes fainting) in the presence of great art, architecture, music. Those terms at the top of this post are among a constellation of over 80 different terms (in overlapping Venn diagrams) that attempt to name and describe the condition. Turns out, this has been reported for centuries among visitors to the great artistic treasures of Europe… modern, classical, Renaissance, whatever.

I’ve felt on the verge of swooning at the Louvre, at Notre Dame, in Monument Valley, in lecture halls, in theater audiences for certain movies. I see these as functions of the same kinds of stimuli that nearly made me yack up my breakfast in that long ago fabric shop.

No, I’m not about to say that today’s strip made me dial 911 or an exorcist.

But I feel it nudging me. I hear and feel the wind, I smell the leaves, I taste the colors. The jokes… physically tickle my ribs. And I think I feel some of what Wallace and Spud feel. I love it.

I, for one, am kind of glad Spud talked him out of it.

You’d get arrested, Wallace.

Last week the wind here was blowing tree limbs down dangerously. I was out in the front yard when a piece off tin off the roof of my back deck came flying over the roof and landed ten feet away. I figured it was a good idea to spend the rest of the day indoors.

So fun to look at.

Your artwork and attention to detail continues to amaze and astound me, Mr. Henry. Although I can’t quite make out who’s on the Missing poster. Is that Sterling? Did the devil finally realize his spawn got loose?

Eight yards of oiled wool, when is it not the right day?

I knew a Scotsman who wore his kilt to church on a cold, windy day in February. He told us, “I don’t know where the wind comes from, but I know where it goes!”

That middle panel is suitable for framing! Make a print, @WillHenry!

Love the subtly rich color palette.

My first college was in windy northern Wisconsin, and it was a conservative Bible college with a dress code. I remember my sister looking up the forecast in the evenings and warning me and our roommates “no floofy skirts tomorrow.”

THE TRREEEESS!!!

The Scotsman, full of drink, fell asleep by the side of the road. Two young lasses came upon him and could not resist discovering for themselves the truth about what was rumored to be the absence of a garment under the kilt. They lifted it and smiled. One took a blue ribbon from her long, red locks and tied it to…our young hero. Upon awakening the next morning the lad went behind a tree for his morning watering of the greenery. Looking down and quite surprised, he exclaimed, “Well I don’t know where you’ve been but I see you won first prize.”

Nice sound effects.