The first time I met Jules Feiffer I was a kid with few publishing credits, he was God, and we were both wet.

I had just swum across Seth’s Pond and when I lifted my head, I was facing that unmistakable face cooling off in the shallows. I managed to introduce myself as an aspiring cartoonist. He invited me to see his nearby studio.

I was in awe. My earliest published works were heavily influenced by Feiffer, and when I say “heavily” think in terms of metric tons. I’d drawn an irregular strip for my college newspaper that ripped off Feiffer’s framing, timing, and writing. Of course, there was no way I could swipe his jazzy drawing.

That day he showed me jaw-dropping originals and read bits of a kid’s book he was working on. Original art lay everywhere. I couldn’t believe my luck to have arrived dripping from Seth’s Pond and landed in Parnassus.

Finally done with talking about his old work, new work and work to come, he asked me about what I was working on.

I stuttered that I was not sure what my next project was going to be.

He slammed his fist down on the table.

“Always, always, always!” he said, “Always know what your next project is going to be.”

I knew Jules for years. He was fierce and driven. But to me, always generous, and generous from the very first time we met, when he gave me — freely — advice that was central to who he was as an artist and as a professional.

Last year Jules produced a massive original graphic novel. He was 95 years old.

And I am absolutely certain that when he died, he was working on his next project — and, in the back of his brain, he was stewing on projects yet to come. Always.

Paul Karasik lives in West Tisbury.