Working title: Person First, Artist Second
While brainstorming which colorful characters to use as subject matter for drawings to satiate the appetites of my faithful Patreon subscribers, I had a revelation: each month I crave to craft something introspective, meaningful, even autobiographical – but projects like this can be especially difficult when not provided any structure or framework, where context provides the best, most appropriate opportunity for understanding. I’d like to take the next indeterminate amount of time to orchestrate a small collection of essays, ranging from life stories and experiences to illustration technique, with levity and other fun anecdotes meant to sugar the tongue, helping the medicine of sobering mundanity go down.
I want to make these essays for mainly three reasons.
Firstly, toward the end of 2025, after providing artworks for that year’s Midwest Furfest furry convention held in Chicago, Illinois, I was offered a role as a Guest of Honor at MFF2026. This honor humbled and startled me – as enthusiastic as I’ve been to accept the role, as it’s an opportunity to celebrate a community I’ve enjoyed for over a decade as well as grow awareness of my arts business, I then began to consider the consequences of the honor: where do I go from here? Serving as a Guest of Honor at one of the most populated furry conventions in not just the US but the world is indeed “peak,” one from which I’m not sure I can ever climb higher. In an effort to find a path forward, I’ve decided to shift from searching for outside recognition or approval to introspection: no google search or AI assistant can tell me where to find engaging growth and self-satisfaction.
Secondly, my father recently passed, from a likely diabetes-induced heart attack. Although you may feel inclined to immediately meet me with a comforting remark and offer of a long-distance hug, as most people do, I feel this isn’t exactly what I need now. My dad, like any other person, wasn’t perfect. It’s hard to describe him though, because in many ways he wasn’t the cartoonish stereotype of a toxic, masculine parental figure: he wore his emotions on his sleeve, never withholding his tears or rage, he never struck me, and he eventually learned to accept my queerness. However, he only celebrated the parts of me that made him feel good about himself – my finishing my college degree was HIS accomplishment and he only reminisced about my early childhood because that’s when I had no choice but to accept his influence and love him despite his emotional and psychological abuses. He was a deeply flawed person thanks to his own upbringing, and I feel suffered until the day he left us – insecure, constantly searching for any sense of security he could by throwing tantrums and raging at me when I made any decision that might benefit myself more than him. Of course, there ARE happy sentiments, memories I have about him – but the damage has been done for the past three decades, and unfortunately, those have had quite a substantial effect on the person I am today. I want so deeply to prosper beyond the life he lived and the one he’s saddled me with; and despite having many successes so far, I’m unhappy. Writing here might give me opportunity to figure out why.
Thirdly, and most importantly for you, the reader: I want to help you. I want to tell you my story so you can ask yourself hard questions that not many furries (in my experience) are asking. Why do you do what you do? Why artist? Why art patron? Why furry, specifically? Hopefully, these essays can serve as an informal dialogue between you and me as we both figure out what’s next.
At time of writing, it’s March 2026, and I sit here at my PC with a fire in my heart, begging me to share this with all of you. But no passionate personal story can be shared without disclaimers! First of which is this: I’m not a writer, and I don’t have an editor. This is all being plunked onto the page by my ignorant little doggy fingertips on a cheap keyboard in a little apartment lit by an overcast, New England March mid-morning. You’re welcome to criticize my writing skills in regards to clarity of communication, but I’m not perfect, nor am I interested in winning any awards. Further, none of what’s in these essays should be taken as life, legal, financial advice – these stories, tips, tricks, and lifehacks only serve as opportunity for you to learn more about me, and by proxy, yourselves. If ever there’s a physical version of these essays, I’d encourage you to highlight things that stick in your brain, and write notes, questions, comments in the margins. And although I’m interested in helping as many as I can, I won’t promise that I’ll sit down with each reader individually to answer questions or respond to your personal experiences by reading this/these. I want the essays to mainly speak for themselves, and constantly being requested by strangers for deep discussion or spontaneous therapy sessions would drive my cortisol levels through the roof so high that they might take out the moon and we’d need to buy a new one. For now, my delightful patrons, I’ve come up with three prompts for you to choose from: there’s no guarantee I’ll respond with text OR image – I want to keep these essays fluid and flexible, there may be times I respond with both text AND image, a video, music… . I haven’t decided yet, but I suppose that’s my artist self wanting to find the best medium to answer each question.
Oh, and for anyone threatened by the idea of these essays: “I subscribed for porn, not introspection!” Even the NSFW I draw is an argument, political: an expression of how I choose to spend my time on this planet while I can. These essays, although different in form, are no different. If all you want is mindless distraction from your troubles or boredom, I politely invite you to go find another artist who can provide that to you. But before you do, I ask you to consider what questions you’re escaping from. What noise are you trying to drown out? And if now is not the best time to address those things, when is? Food for thought. Woof.
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ESSAY 1: