Fresh Air & Vapor Trails

I forgot why I wanted to be an artist.


I haven't been able to even think of calling myself an artist over the last year. I've lost count of the people who I pushed away, and the people who just straight-up abandoned me. I lost almost all of the people I wanted to write and draw for. I lost the only audience I ever wanted. To try and start over now would feel like an empty gesture. I thought to gain success and personal achievement without them would be a hollow victory.


Why bother? Why bother getting all of those stories in my head down on paper? Why bother trying to learn anatomy, or research trans issues to better portray the characters in a comic book project? Why bother finishing NaNoWriMo this year, when I failed every other year I tried it, and no one will read it? Why learn to code, so I can design a game for vile, stupid underachievers who feel video games are their to masturbate them? Why should I learn to write a screenplay, for a fascist film industry that has brainwashed a generation into eating its' own regurgitated shit?


Why did art and entertainment matter to me to begin with? 


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Extra Credits: Art =/= Not Fun

I've got at least 5 huge posts in the works simultaneously. I'm gonna chip away at 'em over the next week. In the meantime, once again I must thrust in the general direction of James Portnow and co. and say YES. YES. THAT. WHAT THEY SAID.

Again, not the biggest Extra Credits fan, but they are right about this. The argument that we should call off the exploration of games' capacity to delve into richer themes in a mature fashion, just so we can stay in our little nostalgic box forever is part of why video games are less a hobby, and more of an industry. That attitude must be thrown overboard if we are to stay afloat.

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~A.H.