Dalton Webb (1972-2025), an artist’s life

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Henry Chamberlain | December 8, 2025

Dalton Webb (1972-2025) was a delightful human being with many dreams that criss-crossed the worlds of comics and illustration. I knew him very well, more than a brother, and will always have him as a beloved friend. I had not been in contact with him outside of us trading Likes on Instagram for quite a long stretch. Then I got a phone call from a family friend about him dying the day before, on Nov. 7.

The news of his dying, after his heart collapsed, was devastating. I immediately turned to Facebook and learned that he’d been battling cancer for over a year — the same amount of time that my partner, Jennifer, and I were consumed with a member of our own family in a health crisis. What tragic news.

A GoFundMe has been set up to help out his wife Darcy and daughter Genevieve. Just a few months before his death, Dalton realized one of his dreams, that of being published. Wally Mammoth: The Sled Race, published by HarperCollins, is written by Corey R. Tabor and illustrated by Webb. A career milestone. And then death. How to make sense of that?

For this remembrance, I wanted to find a way to speak about Dalton Webb, being a comics artist, friendship, and a life well lived. Our paths crossed at a very interesting time, right at the turn of the 21^st century. I arrived in Seattle in 1993 and had lived a lot of life by the time we reached the end of the 1990s. When our fates collided, Dalton was still new in the Emerald City. We were about nine years apart in age. I was the older dude, but we easily took to each other. We both were taking the same illustration class, led by the great Stan Shaw. How time flies, and how merciless it can be. Sometimes, I can picture myself in that class sweating out the latest critique. And then there’s a shift and I see myself crying over Dalton’s passing. Another shift and I see Dalton so proud to be a published children’s book illustrator. If his time was cut short, he made the most of what he had.

If an artist creates a body of work and it never gets published or shown, does it still exist? The answer is of course it does. I think of this when I consider all the drawings and other works, big and small, that Dalton created over his lifetime. I think he embraced the true spirit of creativity. He seemed to me most interested in making the art and letting any details over what happened next be figured out later. I believe, for the sake of any artist’s sanity, that’s the only approach that makes sense, because the work will take on a life of its own. So, it’s not Dalton's published work that alone defines him. He was making remarkable art all along. He was also living the life of a family man and a professional graphic designer and illustrator. He was living his life and regularly finding time to create art on his own terms. I would argue that he has a significant body of work that hopefully can be collected into a book and a show at some later date (I’d be more than happy to help with that and not charge a dime). What some young people seem to forget is that art is a labor of love before it’s anything else.

Dalton’s art usually embraced a whimsical mid-century style all his own. He cultivated a certain look over many years of experimentation and study of the masters — great artists/illustrators like Maurice Sendak, Carl Barks, Eric Carle and Walt Kelly were some of his guides. He felt most at home in a world of fanciful animals and kooky characters. And he found inspiration not only in comics and illustration but also in myth and folklore. Anywhere he could find larger-than-life creatures or otherworldly entities, he was game. It certainly helped that he had a rich imagination and a very open mind. Without question, he was open to the existence of fairies, the spirit world and astral travel. I was right there with him. He liked to delve into the study of the supernatural and then share his insights with me. How could I resist?

One essential fact about Dalton is that he was deaf, or nearly deaf. I say essential because it was a part of him, something he identified with as well as something that he did not want interfering with his engagement with the world. We would have intense conversations that involved patience and trust. I never learned sign language. I just spoke as clear as I could and, in that sense, learned how to express myself more clearly. Dalton and I got along so well that we ended up becoming roommates for a time. I was there when he got his cochlear implant, a device that significantly improved his hearing. If he had any difficulty before, that seemed to melt away. He made everything he did look free and easy.

Comics was always something percolating in the background of our relationship, with each of us creating various zines, minicomics, illustrations and assorted work. We would take road trips to comics festivals and sell our latest creations. My style often had a pointed satirical bent. Dalton tended to favor a gentler vibe. We could take opposite sides too. Over time, I could see Dalton leaning more to Pogo or Where The Wild Things Are. In time, I would land a publisher for my graphic memoir and, a few years later, Dalton would enjoy his own published success.

Looking back at some of Dalton’s comics from the early years, his skill and quirky style is evident. In his minicomic from 2003, The One Regret, he gently captures the ebb and flow of youthful heartbreak. I love how Moe slowly makes his way through the rain to his local coffee shop to answer in person a letter he received from his ex-girlfriend (It turns out she wouldn’t mind one more roll in the hay). Dalton brings back this same waitress character for a promotion he did for an art show of his work I curated when I ran a gallery inside a local diner. He was always bringing back this or that character, including his alter ego.

In “Inner Demon," from 2004, and which appeared in the Monster Engine anthology, he has himself confronting a demon who has come to check up on him. He had this book and his previous minicomic on the table we shared with Toby Craig at MoCCA in 2005. Even back then, I could see some truth mixed into the dark whimsy of the subject matter. The darkness, I speculate, could have been partly inspired from the very real challenge any creative has in getting noticed. The artwork is superb and perfectly matches the comedic timing of the piece. The demon, with cute bulging bug eyes and fumes rising off it, takes pleasure in stealing Dalton’s youth. In one panel, bottle in hand, Dalton decries, “I’m too young to be old!” Indeed. It seems like it’s not enough to dedicate oneself to one’s art. The older crowd seem to always need to prove themselves to the latest crop of new arrivals. Many cartoonists already have a built-in youthful outlook to last them the rest of their lives. Dalton genuinely enjoyed following the beat of a different drummer, as do I.

Dalton believed in paying it forward as often as possible. I will be forever in his debt for his book design of my one-person anthology from 2014, A Night at the Sorrento and Other Stories. Dalton took care of the interior layout design and did the cover design. All the elements were in place to create some sort of showcase. I recall Dalton strongly encouraging me to feature the graphic novella, Alice in New York, tucked away in the book. In fact, that was to be the original title of the collection, but I chose to go with a counterintuitive approach that perhaps turned out to be a marketing misfire. There was a good bit of back and forth on this and, finally, it seemed to me that a nod to the local Sorrento Hotel was the way to go. I always thought Dalton and I would revisit this project, but time and life marched on.

As much as Dalton, in later years, was focusing his efforts specifically in the world of children’s books, the Wally Mammoth books (there’s at least one more in this series) use word balloons and certainly read as comics. The worlds of comics and illustration are more closely aligned than one might think. In fact, the lines blur all the time in more ways than one. As much as one might try to draw a distinction between this or that comic being high art or not, a lot can depend upon context and even how you brand a work. That said, I know this was not a concern for Dalton. I think, again, he was mostly concerned with making the art and letting what happens next to get figured out later. He knew more than enough about comics and illustration to know that he’d done his homework.

I shift around in my recollections of Dalton. There’s one that, while unfortunate, I also embrace. In later years, once Dalton and his family moved to Tacoma, I would make the trip from Seattle to visit, sometimes staying at their cozy home, a beauty renovated from the 1940s. One time, Dalton and I stayed with Genevieve while Darcy had an overnight with friends. That night, Dalton and I stayed up for a long drawing session. We had staked out our places at the kitchen table. It got late and we decided to call it a night. I went upstairs to the room set up for me. This being an old house, and me being a big and tall man, I was vulnerable to this old home’s smaller scale and imperfections. Anyway, later that night, I needed to go down to use the bathroom and I took a slightly askew step the wrong way and went flying down the stairs. I landed in a fetal position, afraid of what I might have broken. The next day, after some coaxing along, I agreed to visit the zoo with Dalton and Genevieve unaware that I was walking with a fractured pinky toe. It was to be the last outing that Dalton and I would ever have. The smile on Genevieve’s face during our trip was priceless and so was Dalton’s.

***

Cartoonists and friends remember Dalton Webb

The following are various remembrances that I sought out in the week or so after Dalton’s passing. Whatever words were said, the comments spoke to Dalton’s unique and good character. Once the news broke out on Facebook, it was one post after another. Jim Woodring wrote, “Dalton was a gem.” Tatiana Gill posted her own comics tribute. It was one recollection and reflection after another.

I began my search with cartoonists Toby Craig and Todd Webb (no relation), who knew Dalton back in college in the late 1990s. They would join together in what came to be known as the Engine! anthology. I spoke with them both on FaceTime and it was wave after wave of good vibes. Todd held up a copy of Engine! and started sampling through pages. Later on, I circled back and got some more refined thoughts from Toby.

Toby Craig

I met most of my early artistic collaborators while at school in Texas. I was probably in my third year of art classes and Dalton was a year or two ahead. I think he had already had a solo exhibition at the student studio. When he entered our orbit, Dalton was disarming and inquisitive, also kind of relentless and scary. Especially to a complete grump and introvert like myself. Along with our classmate Todd, we soon became a gang of three red-headed weirdos. Though my hair was definitely not fiery red like theirs.

Back then I remember Dalton as a pen nibs and pixels guy, a bit older and much more experienced with all sorts of drawing techniques that he was always eager to share, but always looking to learn from everyone, like a sponge. Always an artist, always searching and exploring, always curious and interested in so many things at once. He was quick to become friends with strangers with shared interests. For me, he quickly became a fast and steady friend. One of my very few load-bearing beams of a friendship. Dalton could be stubborn and opinionated. We shared that and both have a strong sense of right and wrong as well as a habit of starting things that don’t always seem to come together.

He headed off to Seattle as quick as he graduated, sending word about his travels, but he often came back to visit and convinced me to fly up and see a bit of the Pacific Northwest a few times. Hitting up as many bookstores and art supplies as we could find. Those visits for me recall a ton of gastronomic mishaps from his adventurous recommendations, which probably indirectly helped me figure out what I shouldn’t eat! In the earlier years of his return visits to Houston, he requested that we meet up for IHOP pancakes, and I would promptly get sick for weeks after, me thinking I kept getting the flu from the location we tended to go (turns out I can’t eat wheat). Before I knew that and on one of my Seattle visits, he treated me to my one and only Guinness and a huge chicken fried steak. The flight home was … absolutely terrible.

A much more enjoyable trip was when I got to go up and attend his wedding to Darcy and then later for a road trip to Portland. I’ll miss those meet ups, road trips, and chats. I wished we’d talked more about art and tools recently than about our respective health issues, work troubles, and general thoughts on aging. We didn’t even get to talk about his new books and I owed him a t-shirt I drew.

I was able to tune in online to hear some of the stories from Dalton’s memorial of friends. They often mentioned camping trips where he was the fire guy or the guy that would add extra light when it was dark. So for us, we can try to remember what he showed us, the light isn’t gone … for me, that load-bearing support isn’t gone … he left us with what he shared and how to do it. Now we need to carry that light and share it with others. Carry it onward and him with us.

***

Sarah Romano

I met Dalton over 10 years ago through friends in the SCBWI (Society of Childrens' Books for Writers and Illustrators) group. I was immediately struck by his kind demeanor and very stylized, sophisticated illustration work. We later were both showing comics-themed work in shows at Warlock Labs in Greenwood, Seattle, which I believe was an art space/collective that he was a part of with Scott Faulkner and others. I didn’t know Dalton very closely, but it seems so apparent that Dalton was a good man. My heart goes out to his family.

***

T. Edward Bak

Dalton was kind, philosophical, knowledgable, and incredibly talented. To me he will always be an artist in the traditional sense — someone who studied and mastered the history and skills and technique and instruments of his craft, who generously shared his insights about illustration and history. He was always supportive of my work and it was a genuine pleasure catching up with him. He was — is — a towering talent. What a devastating loss for Seattle and the entire comics community. It’s bittersweet that his new book was just published. We were all lucky to share some time here with Dalton. He was a real one.

***

Jennifer Daydreamer

I met Dalton Webb about a week after I met Henry Chamberlain, my life partner, who was Dalton's friend. This was 2003. The three of us were standing in line at a local comic store in Fremont, an area of Seattle, for a cartoonist signing.

Dalton was so nice and friendly! I was like, cool: the guy I am dating has a good friend.

That sums it up. I really loved how Dalton could be a friend to females. Ah, if you don't understand that, I am not going to explain. Some guys can just be a friend to gals.

He was roommates with Iain, who was very close to Dalton. Iain and Dalton lived in a cool condo in Ballard, an area of Seattle. Then Iain moved out and Henry moved in and then Dalton moved out and I moved in.

Now, I say it that way, as these were youthful times, in the spirit of the ‘90s when you are shuffling around wondering where you are going to live and things just fall into place.

And there were the Kickin' Boot dinners with Darcy and Dalton, Iain and Athena, and Henry and myself. Lots of fun and good talks!

I just LOVED talking to Dalton about the OCCULT, gee whiz, of all things! Not only did he share with me a few supernatural experiences, he was a BELIEVER!

In what? God, the supernatural, spiritual, love, the afterlife, whatever name you want to put to it.

I think back on Dalton and his love of gardening in his backyard. If it was a rental in Seattle or his home in Tacoma, he "dug" it. When we visited, he would show us a variety of vegetables and plants he was growing in the backyard and then on to his drawing board to show us his latest artwork. Always in that order: we would survey the outside and his love for gardening, then make our way up a staircase to his studio.

One time — a favorite memory — since Dalton was easy to talk to, I asked him out to coffee. Our talk was so whimsical, I told him about my natural altered state experiences ... what he thought and he told me the grandest story.

Dalton said he knew the third eye exists and he touched his forehead and said, "I felt mine once."

No, he was not joking.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He said "I don't know, I had a vision and felt the vein, the blood, pumping inside my forehead where the third eye is located."

Believe.

Believe in what? God, the supernatural, spiritual, love, the afterlife, whatever name you want to put to it.

***

Randy Wood

Anytime I ran into Dalton, he would make a point of really stopping. Never seemed like he was trying to find a way to get out of some small talk, he was present and wanted to have a meaningful interaction. The last time I saw him, he seemed good, and we talked about art and what each other was up to. I didn’t get to see him very much in person, but I loved following him on social media and seeing his various illustration projections over the years. Stellar guy, I’m glad I got to know him.

***

Robin Bougie

I'm going to miss that guy. Here in the Pacific Northwest, it's a tight-knit scene, even though we're all in different cities, and even different countries in some cases. But the Seattle/Portland/Olympia/Vancouver comic artists all know each other for the most part, and you would be hard-pressed to find any one of us with a bad word to say about Dalton. The guy was beloved by everyone who knew him. Just a genuinely sweet and kind-hearted person. The last time we chatted he contacted me to pump my tires a little about how much he liked my Gutter Hunter zine about comics. And you know, I'm not a big famous guy. It still means so much to me when someone takes the time to reach out and say "Hey, what you're doing is important and it's appreciated. Keep going, man". None of us are making much money in this game, even the well-known faces. We're all just squeaking by, and little things like that from a peer who you respect means so much. Dalton was one of those guys. He'd rather help build you up than toot his own horn.

***

Tom Dougherty

Dalton Webb is easy to like. Anyone who ever met him would tell you that. I’ve been lucky enough to be Dalton’s friend for at least a couple of decades now. We met as members of The Friends of the Nib, a loose confederation of cartoonists who met weekly at Seattle’s beloved Café Racer. The bunch of us would meet for hours every Wednesday to drink, draw, and generally horse off, and not a minute of it was wasted. Dalton quickly befriended everyone in the place. He’s got a loopy, gentle wit that draws people in. No one is ever the butt of a Dalton Webb joke. He makes friends so easily, you never even see it happen. He meets someone new, and through some mysterious Dalton alchemy, they’re instantly pals. I wish I were more like him.

His humor and his kid-friendly, cheerful, creative aesthetic immediately clicked with me, and we spent many hours talking about comics, kids’ book illustrators, cartoons, and mid-century advertising and design. Dalton has introduced me to the work of more artists and writers than I would have thought possible. He’s shown me new art techniques nearly every time we spoke. He likes to share things, and he’s a tireless cheerleader for other creators. No ego in our Dalton.

While he’s worked in games, newspapers, credit unions, and other corporate jobs, it’s obvious he was made for kids’ entertainment. It just had to happen. One look at his sketchbooks or a short conversation with him would convince you that he is a Richard Scarry-in-the-making. Only a few weeks ago, his first kids’ book, Wally Mammoth- The Sled Race, was published, written by Corey Tabor with Dalton handling the visuals. I believe two other completed books in the series are in the pipeline as well. It’s very cute, very sharp, and very Dalton. As an artist, this is what Dalton was put on earth to do. In his personal life, he was put on earth to be a friend, brother, son, husband, and father. He talks about his wonderful wife Darcy and their adorable daughter Genevieve at every opportunity.

This week, I received the awful news that my great friend Dalton Webb had left us. He had been sick for some time, but I never once thought he wouldn’t be around to tell the story of his recovery to his grandchildren. All my thoughts have been with Darcy and Genevieve.

I’m sure you have noticed I’m still referring to Dalton in the present tense. I’m going to keep doing that for a while. I’m not ready to put him in the past just yet. If you knew him, I'm sorry for your loss. If you never met him, I'm sorry for that, too.

Safe travels, Mr. Webb.

***

David Lasky

I knew Dalton, as an artist in the Seattle comics scene, for about 25 years. He was such a good-natured, generous person. And he was a gifted artist — drawing characters with so much innate charm and joy — and making it look easy. This loss is so heartbreaking.

As a freelancer, Dalton helped me out by doing the nuts and bolts work (at a very reasonable price) of creating the font of my hand lettering that was used in The Carter Family: Don't Forget This Song, and another graphic novel by Frank Young and me, Oregon Trail. And he assisted with a few pages of background inking in the Carter Family graphic novel. I will always feel grateful to him.

He was so talented. I was always thinking that he was about to become a star of the children's picture book world. He was so good at drawing cartoon animals. It's gratifying to know that at least his first major illustrated children's book came out just months before his death. Still, this feels so unfair — he should be here to have a long career pleasing young readers.

He had a positive impact on me, as an artist and as a person. I'm deeply saddened by his passing. And deeply grateful to have known him.

Rest in peace, Dalton.

***

Pat Moriarty

I don’t know exactly how long I’ve known Dalton Webb, it seems like a long time. He’s been part of the Seattle comics scene forever it seems. I’d see him at Cafe Racer on the rare times I’d ferry over from Port Orchard to join the cartoonists for comic jam nights. Dalton was nearly deaf and he did have a cochlear implant. My wife Lori was deaf in one ear, and a sign language interpreter for the deaf, so they bonded over both being hard of hearing. We talked about that stuff a little as well, but mostly about drawing, tools, and techniques. We also talked about design work and compared notes about freelancing and billing … and complaints. Ha! Dalton was a passionate artist and cartoonist.

The last few times I saw him were at the Fantagraphics bookstore. He was a member of Tom Dougherty’s drawing group “The Bureau of Drawers.” I’d kind of lost track of him for a while until I became aware that he had some sort of heart issue problem and was being treated. I didn’t know much more until I posted on Facebook about how I had secretly had prostate cancer for 8 years (active surveillance) until I eventually got to the point where I needed to go through radiation. My last treatment was three weeks ago and I finally fessed up on my Facebook page with a video clip of me ringing the bell (something you traditionally do at the hospital, when completing treatment). I was finally cancer free. Dalton commented something like, ”I also want to be want to be ringing that bell.” I thought, “What?! Does Dalton have cancer too?” So I sent him a message Oct 30th asking “Hey Dalton, what’s the story on your health? Are you going through radiology too? When will you be ringing that bell?” He replied, “Hey Pat! I have a rare blood cancer called Waldenstrom's. So far, I have two more months of chemo and immunotherapy left. I've been getting my infusions at Fred Hutch.” I responded “Two months will go quickly. I hope it does the trick! I went to Fred Hutch and I’m glad I did! Are you feeling ok? I go back in four months for more checkups, but I think I’m out of the woods. Knock on wood. Hang in there, buddy! We are both in a club no one wants to be in, but let’s persevere!” Dalton responded with a HEART emoji and said “My cancer caused my heart failure and that complicated things. I also have prostate cancer but it's under surveillance since its tiny. Here's to speedy recovery! Glad they zapped it out!”

I had no idea that would be the last time I’d ever communicate with him. He was optimistic to the very end, and he and I both assumed he’d be ringing that bell. We were kinda cheerleading each other. Dalton was a sweet soul, a great artist and a good friend who I will miss. There was a lot more art left inside him, I know that. Condolences to his wife and daughter

***

Corey R. Tabor

I met Dalton in Seattle in 2013 through the Society of Children's Books Writers and Illustrators. It was my first SCBWI meeting, my first time really diving into the world of kids’ books, and I was nervous. Dalton was the first person I met when I walked in the door—actually right before we both walked in the door as we arrived at the same time— and right away he was so kind and welcoming (kind and welcoming are some of the best words to describe Dalton). I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction to the Seattle kids' book community. We quickly became friends, and then we became a two-person critique group, meeting up for beer and long discussions about picture books and comics and ghosts. Half of what I know about comics (and ghosts) I learned from Dalton.

Then (fast forward several years) Dalton had a kid and moved to Tacoma, and then I had a kid and moved to Tacoma, and we started meeting up for chai and long discussions about picture books and comics and parenting. At one of these meetings, we were talking about collaboration (I’d recently published a picture book with a couple of other friends) and I asked Dalton if he’d ever be interested in collaborating on a book. I waited for his answer a little nervously because I already secretly had a project in mind. It was called Wally Mammoth and was an early reader picture book I had written but couldn’t figure out how to illustrate. I’d spent a year or two trying to illustrate the book myself before finally realizing that I wasn’t the illustrator for the job. The book needed illustrations that were as energetic and joyful and offbeat as a Saturday morning cartoon. And I knew just the guy!

I was so happy (and relieved!) when Dalton agreed. I have so many fond memories of working on these books with him, from our many, many chai meetings, to the whirlwind of a multi-publisher book auction, to receiving our first copies of the real-life published book, to our mini book tour. But my favorite memory is probably the first time he showed me his sketches for the first book. They were perfect! He brought Wally and Wally’s world to life in a way that nobody else could have. I’m so grateful I got to work on these books with Dalton, and I’m even more grateful for the decade of friendship that came before.

Several years ago, Dalton gathered a bunch of flower seeds from his garden and shared some with me. Our garden is now full of his flowers and whenever those energetic, joyful blooms appear every spring and summer I’ll be thinking about Dalton.

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