The first thing that caught my eye in Deek Diedricksen’s brazen introduction to his, well, let’s call it his manifesto, was his assurance that the ideas found within are not by any means completed designs, or, as he puts it, “This is not a blueprint book.” It’s more like a playtime show-and-tell. Yes, his structures could be attempted in their primal form, but Deek is quick to let us know that what these pages really capture are just figments of his unrestrainable imagination.
Little by little, as I delved further into this comic wonder, it became clear that Humble Homes is no design book. Yes, it presents a whole array of miniature dwellings, from “The Basic Box Cabin” to the “Fort-a-Saurus,” but what this book really illustrates is a lifestyle. And I’m not just talking about Deek’s love of salvaging (bent branch door handle, yes please!), or his eco-awareness (rain water shower, anyone?). This book channels his magnetic creativity, transmitting a sense of nostalgia for the jungle-gym joy of childhood and the limitless possibilities of a Saturday afternoon.
In this way, Deek accomplishes exactly what he sets out to. As he states, “Ultimately, if this book reaches and inspires even one kid-at-heart to build ANYTHING outlined from here on out, I’ll consider this book a success.” I dare anyone who reads this comic/book not to run out and find/buy a hammer.
I could give you a play-by-play of all the whimsical structures featured in Humble Homes, but what stood out to me more when reading it was the man behind them. After all, this is a comic book, and as we all know, no comic book is complete without a superhero!