Grayfell

Once when he was young the Grayfell considered himself an artist, many other people considered him one too. Then various tragedies happened, piercing the little bubble he surrounded himself with and infecting his private circle of hell. He put down the pens and walked away, never to etch an ink into canvas again.

Then one night over a decade later, with far too little sleep and far too much rum, for reasons he still doesn't remember, he drew something. It was small, and horrible and should have been scrunched up and slung away. But other people saw it and rained praises on it, spent the next month convincing him he "still had it."

And so he returned, he no longer considers himself an artist, but he is determined to become one again. The tools have moved on, everything's digital now ( Back in his day photoshop was in the CS1 stage and was used only by yuppie office workers to design cheesy "team building" clip arts to dangle near the water coolers.) But he has been told artistry is like riding a bike or killing a man, you never really forget how it's done. He will learn to use these new tools, and eventually dangle his learnings upon these walls.

¬D.