I had an epiphany yesterday morning. I’ve been struggling for a while with what my role is, given my knowledge and means. I’ve also been reading some Emma Goldman and Henry Thoreau, which despite getting me really excited about living by my own means, kinda marginalized my feelings of myself as an artist. Then there’s the guilt, in the, “How can you spend four thousand dollars on a laptop and tablet when there are people dying of exposure on the streets of Vancouver?” vein.
But as I walked through the neighborhood right at sunset, my first day home after three weeks straight of graveyard shifts, my sheer joy at the glory of the morning was tainted by the knowledge that it would dissipate before I could run back home for my camera. Wandering through my familiar woods, I thought of the uncountable moments that are lost daily. Returning home, I decided that was my responsibility. Robin Gibson: Moment Capturer.
So I went home, smeared some pastel on canvas paper, made a painting that was fairly awesome, then completely ruined it in an experiment involving a laminator. So I salvaged it into a comic strip ala “A Softer World”
On that note, I’m working on a comic project that’s a little more down to earth than my others. (Also a little easier to draw) I’m not going to start posting it until I have a significant backlog, at which point I’ll be putting out one a week.
