You see time is like a squirrel. Squirrels have fluffy tails, wide eyes and meticulously, if forgetfully, bury their nuts in many disparate locations all around the woods. Whereas time, it, uh... it doesn't do any of that. But they do both run away when I try to chase them.
This update will be a little different to its ilk since, besides commission work and as-yet unfinished videos, I really have nothing complete to show you and there's only so many times I can complain about my uncooperative brain. In lieu of spectacle this post will largely be a little light rambling about a related topic interspersed with occasional examples. It's not horrendously important, just some thoughts I think would be nice to share. So either buckle up for a read or unfasten and sprint ahead to the finish, I shan't blame you either way.
My last few years at university were largely spent attempting original research solo. Many hypotheses were developed, tested and, in all likelihood, shown not to work. Every week I'd collect the detritus and show it to my PhD supervisor who would invariably inform me that he's not surprised they failed since, naturally, he or one of his colleagues had already tried it. We'd then wax mournful at the yearly loss of the assumedly millions of work hours spent walking down winding alleyways only to rediscover the well-scratched dead-end encountered by dozens of explorers prior. If only some readily-searchable system of publication existed for false leads then the world of research might be much more efficient and our sense of pride a little less chipped by the wasted work.
Alas we're only human, and with humanity comes vanity. Why publish failures when your record could show nought but success? The mathematical world is far from unique in this regard, as any and all creative output must first force through the filter of self-image before it's considered for release. Musicians, artists, authors, actors, dancers, speakers, politicians, archaeologists, programmers, the discipline seems almost irrelevant beside the shared desire to avoid communicating failure. At best the musician will release demos or b-sides of songs that didn't quite make it onto the album, but that's far from the full recording session of scrapped jams and 'One More Take's.
Importantly, knowing a phenomenon exists doesn't make you exempt from it. I'm more guilty than many in insisting my online presence is more akin to a curated gallery of completed works, to the extent that I rarely even share works-in-progress as many other artists do. Partly this is for theatrics, the joy of brazenly launching out a complete and unexpected work in one impactful thwack. But admittedly it's partly the desire for a 'professional' appearance, the optics of unsullied competency. This demand weighs heavier than I'd care to admit, to the extent that I often avoid posting altogether rather than do so messily.
Thus we run the risk of inventing a disconnect: If all you see are the finished works of others, your works-in-progress must seem pitiful by comparison. If nobody shares their struggles, your struggles must single you out as a failure among crowds of winners. My aforementioned desire for 'professionalism' is informed by this unrealistic standard and it, in turn, informs others in the great cyclical arms-race of social media optics. It's far from the worst sin this technology has committed but a deal is a deal, big or otherwise.
For me, however, there is one exception: This. The condition of release for most of my output is completion, but these updates work independent of my progress. The sun moves steady even if I don't. This, despite my deceptions in most other areas, ought to keep me honest: If I have nothing to show then I have nothing to show and that's that. I could try (and sometimes have tried) to cloy my way out of it, blow the dust from old as-yet-unshown work and scrape off the use-by date, but I don't think that's at all healthy for either of us.
And so here I am with a reminder, as much for me as you: It's fine to lack success. Dead ends are natural, and failure is always an option. It's annoying for sure but just keep going, hug the metaphorical left wall, and you'll be out of the cul-de-sac in no time. But whilst you're there it may be worth paying a little attention to the marks left on the walls by the hands that brushed it before you, reminding you that you weren't alone in this digression.
And now for the actual update: Many commissions completed, much video work done (two-thirds of the way through a real biggun), personal holiday travel planned, a new drawing tablet broken-in, cinnamon rolls baked, game demo approaching playable alpha stage, and a surprising number of '😐's written in my journal.
Streaming sees us forging through Medal of Honor: Underground with bewilderment supplanting deference, carrying us into Saturday's newly-minted Grim Hollow RPG sessions and Sunday's resultant doodlage.
And now I must away. Commissions beckon, but I aim to have at least one comic for you next time, if not more. Thank you very much for your excessive support, and best of luck prowling the labyrinthine alleyways in search of your own successes, remembering if possible to leave some marks on the walls for those who follow.
Look after yourselves,
Crispy 💜