For many, Dave Contra is a phantom of the social scroll – a four-colour chronicler of the suburban abyss whose characters act out existential dreads. A master of ‘no-frills’ humour and angst, the pseudonymous comic creator has built a cult following of over 150,000 Instagram followers using a pen-and-ink shorthand to map life’s fleeting hope and crushing monotony.
Based in Sydney, Australia, Contra might hide behind a pen name, but beneath the deadpan satire lies a dedicated storyteller – first evidenced in his best-selling collection, You Are Deranged For This, and now his debut novel, Urchin, an unsparing departure set in his hometown of Hong Kong that he’s been working on for 20 years.
What was the specific ‘break’ that pushed you to start making comics?
The COVID lockdowns played a big part, and I had a few friends encouraging me to give comics a shot. Eventually I did.
When did you realise your comics were more than gags and were becoming a coherent world?
Probably about a year and a half in. I stopped trying to make what I thought people wanted and started making stuff for myself. That’s when everything began to connect.
Your comics mine the monotony of daily life. How do you keep it fresh without burning out?
I don’t really try to keep it fresh. Life keeps repeating itself, and so do I. I often say I am telling the same two or three stories over and over again with slightly different spins.
Your work embraces life’s catastrophes. Is there anything you find too dark to touch?
Yes, definitely. There are subjects I find too intimidating or uncomfortable – basically the stuff I suppress or avoid but know I am supposed to be working on. I’ve been thinking about exploring them in my comics for some time, but in a way it almost feels like fear-porn to me. I’m not sure I want to go there.
Your comics feature people travelling or in strange new worlds. Is travel an escape for you, or just displacement?
When I was younger it felt like freedom and escape – the license to do what I wanted without anyone I know knowing what I was up to. These days it feels more like displacement and removing me from routines that make me feel safe.
Nostalgia is often presented as a beautiful, dangerous thing. Is your own past a place you visit, or one you’re trying to outrun?
I try not to visit the past. I have quite a unique/idiotic view on the past in that I don’t really believe it happened – probably a coping mechanism? But, at the same time, I am full of regrets.
Urchin sat for two decades. Does the book feel like an old ghost, or an evolution of who you are now?
Definitely a ghost. It feels like it was written by somebody else.
Was expanding from comic brevity to a novel a relief, or an act of creative violence?
It was draining. It actually felt like my brain was spongy and numb by the time I had read through it about four times. By the time I was finished panel-beating it, I’d had some kind of mental shift that made ‘comic mode’ very hard to get back into.
Is your work a necessity for your mental health, or just a job you happen to be good at?
There’s a small therapeutic aspect to it, but I wouldn’t say it’s essential for my mental health. Exercise and a bit of social connection probably do more of the heavy lifting there.
Beyond comics, what films or writers shaped your deadpan brand of misery?
My favourite film is About Schmidt, which I feel is a vibe very close to my comics. My favourite novel is American Psycho. Those are the two influences that come to mind.
Favourite local restaurants?
There used to be a very casual below-ground-level Vietnamese place in Manly that I loved, but it’s gone now. I used to go there sometimes to get noodles and spring rolls, and just watch people’s legs walk by above my eye level.
Best local bars?
It’s been years since I’ve been much of a bar person, but I remember liking Grandma’s in the city, which was also below ground level. I seem to have a thing for underground venues.
Where do you go for pure escapism?
These days, the cinema, when something epic is playing. Project Hail Mary was the last great escape. Now I’m waiting for the next Dune. As a younger man, illicit drugs and moving out into the night in a big city like Hong Kong with friends was the big escape.
Where do you go for creative energy?
Usually some combination of a swim, a coffee, and occasionally a microdose. To be honest my ‘process’ is extremely passive. I just wait for ideas to come, I never actively seek them out.
And where do you go when you need a reset?
The ocean. Especially in winter, when the cold blast and being connected to that vast energy can really spring-clean my mind.
What’s always in your carry-on?
A book and a Valium. I never read the book though.
Most inspiring city for writing you’ve visited recently?
New York. There’s an insane energy to the place that’s hard to explain. You can walk five blocks and experience five realities.
Travel splurge you’ll never regret?
I haven’t done it yet, but I know the answer is a long-haul business class flight. One day.
Top three museums in the world?
The British Museum in London, because I’m fascinated by ancient history. The Art Gallery of New South Wales in Sydney, because I can lose myself in a single painting for ages on the rare occasion I wander in there. And Tate Modern in London, which always seems to have something completely strange or interesting going on.
Favourite hotel, anywhere in the world?
I don’t really have one or know of one I’d like to try out. Fancy hotels have never been a big interest of mine. I think any five-star hotel in any part of the world would blow my mind equally. I guess if I had to choose, I’d want to stay in one in Vegas for the over-the-top factor. Maybe The Venetian.
Best travel advice or philosophy?
Record as little as possible. Just live the trip as it happens, then let the memories fade. I used to take photos and videos of everything. Then I went to India and realised I was experiencing the entire trip through a lens.
Dream vacation, not yet fulfilled?
I’ve done a million beach holidays. Now my dream is seeing the Northern Lights.
You’ve worked on punchline comics, existential comics and novels. Is there a medium you still want to try?
Animation. To me it’s probably the ultimate medium. But it also requires a level of concentration and sustained effort that is beyond me.
What is it about life on the fringes that you find more truthful than the mainstream?
I don’t know if life on the fringes is necessarily more truthful. But if you’re a bit of a weirdo like me and don’t naturally fit in, you’re forced to search for meaning elsewhere. You’re not getting external validation so you end up turning inward. Probably not very healthy to be honest.
