Tuesday, May 5, 2026

Next show coming up! KC Collector Expo

 

New location for the show! Please check out the website for more information: https://www.kccollectorexpo.com/

It's been a bit of a weird year for me so far, I just realized I hadn't posted up anything about shows I had attended or been a part of so far, but on June 6th I'll be a special guest at KC Collector Expo in Independence, MO which is being held at the Stoney Creek Hotel!

The link is provided above so you can find out more information about the show. Hope to see any of you that can make it at the show!

Further shows and events so far scheduled for the rest of the year.

- Mario the Artisan Rogue

Thursday, January 15, 2026

Purpose in Lachrymose

This last year didn't involve much travel for work or otherwise. That's when I forget that some of my best thinking happens when I take a drive.
Beginning

I had previous versions of this post that went on too long. The writing was out of focus. I decided to keep it simple but honest on this fourth run at it.

Employment

I got a part time job creating imagery for the recently deceased. Portraits cleaned up and images put together for presentation of lives now at rest. After over one hundred resumes and applications, it was a welcome respite to be hired on in something that felt familiar, yet also hit closer to home than I had anticipated. Every client I do work for, I learn a little something about them. Sometimes it's a bio, always a photo or two, and I spend time working on an image of them that is the last image their families may have of them to see before they are laid to rest.

Cats

I have three indoor cats and one that lives outside as a very tame feral. Out of the blue, I had another little one show up, skittish, fearful, hungry, and as trust was gained and I was able to pick them up to hold them… I felt something in their belly. I small soft kick of an unborn kitten. A race to find a foster, a rescue to help was paramount. A wonderful foster stepped up to help this very young momma cat, by taking her in, and just in time. 

(Left) Clarabelle days before her litter came. (Right) Clarabelle and her little babies just a few weeks later.

No less than a day or so after being taken into foster, a flash of cold weather hit the area, and she gave birth inside. No complications and all the kittens were born safe and sound. I've had the pleasure and happiness of watching them grow and be cared for at the foster's home (where many other felines are cared for and safe until they can be adopted out). On days when I feel like I can't make a difference, when I think few others care enough to help out, I think of this little cat and her babies. 

Death, Dementia, Distance

I lost friends and family this last year. 

Some unexpectedly, some inevitably, all heartbreakingly. Sicknesses permeated some interactions and updates between myself and people I care about.

A few friends left the country. Leaving behind much of what they knew to stay safe.

My mother has lost more and more ground to dementia. My father quit drinking to care for her.

Days became surreal. Every day feels like an effort to wipe the static from my mind.

Funerals and memorials were weights I never wanted to endure. Absences were hammered home by the presence of empty chairs, found belongings, and stories and games left unfinished.

To this day, I feel that the look inwards at my own mortality and place in this world has become more prominent. Time is a gift. One that is limited.

Creation

I started this year being rejected from a slew of art shows.

I had struggled to write, to draw, to imagine. To believe in myself.

Last year, clinical depression and undiagnosed ADHD wreaked havoc upon my efforts, and I felt less and less like myself. 

After getting on Zoloft, I felt like a different person, one jarringly separated from the pall of sadness and other burdens, with chemical balances leveling out,… and leaving me adrift from the familiar waters of my previous inspirations and creative muses.

I’ve had to relearn to concept, to draw in some ways, to tell stories, and have questioned my role as an artist. Was I still an artist? Would I find the drive and passion to push onwards and find myself again? This year may or may not have those answers in waiting.

Building up my media archiving/preservation business started to become something more for me, and have been enjoying the analog nature of working with old cassettes and technology that are considered "dead media". Being able to watch past memories unfold for stories I don't know makes me think of things we've all lost. Not just things. But interactions. Conversation. Community.

Acting chances came about as well, helping bolster my confidence.

I started collecting Wander Club tokens to highlight past times and memories. Not just for posterity, but to stay inspiration and remember good things.

Shows

There are a few shows I am certain I will be doing, so I am working towards being as prepared as possible and have laid out goals for those. I hope to attend any shows, music performances, and gatherings I can. This last year I really enjoyed the handful of musicians I managed to see. 

There has never been a year that I've attended the Renaissance Festival that I didn't find phenomenal musicians performing.

Horizons

As I write this, the world seems to be in a very delicate and damaged place. The shadow of turmoil and the vile corpulence of greed are now the invaders in the minds and homes of many in America. 

Natural places are in danger of being destroyed further and further. Wildlife is changing and disappearing. 

Class warfare has divided communities. Oligarchy and corporations mean to manipulate and own those divisions. 

Lives are forfeit if there is the smallest of reasons to ignore or extinguish them.

The surreal nature of things shows that the very real decline of western civilization is drowning us, and yet, we still need to survive, to pay bills, to find glimmers of hope and reasons to move forward. It is laborious to look to far shores, when the ones we stand upon are defiled.

Cognitive dissonance and the rise of normalization of deviance stand to smother the morality and well being of our lives.

Patience

The first 2/3 of last year was a blur. It took taking up meditation and writing even when I didn't want to journal to establish some boundaries and sense of well being for myself. 

Around October, I started organizing old photos and gazed upon people and places who had been stored in far corners of my mind. I have been going through many things from my childhood, and deciding what will stay and what needs to go.

Life passes by quickly if we don’t make the effort to slow down. To appreciate the good around us. The good that is worth fighting for. That is worth believing in.

Live

I don't know what this year will bring. None of us really do.

But if you’ve made it to this part of my post, I hope things will go well for all of you..

I promised myself I would to reach out to at least one person a day. Keep those connections going. Clear the paths of overgrowth. 

Thank you for reading. May the course of this year reveal safety, decency and hope for you and yours.

It can feel hopeless and overwhelming.

But we are alive at a time of great change. Within us, around us, and everyone has the responsibility to carry the best of us forward, to herald in better days. 

Do not let those who mean to tear down your spirit, succeed.

Live. Remember. Tell stories. I will. I hope you do as well.  

- Mario, the Artisan Rogue

Saturday, September 27, 2025

Only time will tell

Me at FreeState (Picture by Sara Rude-McCune)

I had no idea that the second thing I wrote in the last blog entry would hold so absolutely true for me.

You can certainly scroll down to read it, it's on the entry for Friday October 11th 2024.

I wrote days become weeks, weeks melt into months, and years pass by faster than ever…

Time certainly did pass. And now I'm sitting here at 12:35 AM on the Saturday, pushing myself to fall back into line with life.

Life has been so utterly unpredictable, and I found it almost impossible to want to write anything on here. Part of that came from the apprehension I had of coming to terms with the change that I have endured. I know that I'm not alone in this. I think most people would agree that the majority of this calendar year has been some of the most bizarre and quite frankly unnerving moments to live through.

Personally

I went through some loss that hit really hard, with the loss of a family member, and a dear friend that I had known since I was 16. I also finally faced my issues with depression and severe anxiety after working through an appointment with a psychiatrist and getting a prescription for Zoloft. 

I know that medication isn't everybody's cup of tea, but within 48 hours of being on it, the vast majority of my anxiety was gone, and my depression had completely disappeared. It's been something of a reality check that also ended up being both a boon and a bit of a hampering in some of the work I do.

I rarely tackle the subject of sociopolitical or socioeconomic factors as a creator, or even just as a human being on this blog. But I would be lying if I didn’t say that as a man with First Nations heritage, coming from a Hispanic family, of which many have served in the United states militaries since the First World War,… real fear and concern for my own safety is something that I never thought would happen the way it has unfolded over the last few months. 

There is a surreal point of existence in my mind.

Days when I will go into a store, and it's business as usual. Maybe it's just taking a walk downtown on a quiet town square, the sun still shining. Nights when at least where I'm standing, the world seems to be in a peaceful slumber.

It led me to thinking about who I am. Why am I still trying to be an artist? Is there still a reason to be an artist? And what does my art have to say anymore?

Professionally

On the positive side, I recently was able to add a part time job for a company that specializes in memorial portraits for clients of funeral homes. I'm still in the learning zone of it all, but I very much enjoy the work because I'm able to bring some comfort to people who have lost someone.

I held off on doing a lot of shows until the later part of this year, for both financial and mental health reasons.

During that time, change still happened. 

While there were some unexpected things that came along like becoming a muralist, and starting up a legacy digital and analog media archiving service, I still felt myself being pulled back.

Not by anyone else in particular, just me doing it to myself.

Perspective

I've spoken before about my old college instructor George Sample. He was not only fundamental in helping drive my love of mark making with a pencil, but giving me and appreciation for allowing myself to sit still, live in a moment, etch it into my mind, and if even for a brief moment hold time hostage as I record it in a drawing.

He was also completely and overwhelmingly knowledgeable about perspective and geometry, far beyond what was taught in his drawing class. I remember many conversations with him that often pushed over into my self doubt and moments of insecurity about becoming an artist. One bit of advice he gave me was to remember that perspective is applicable in every circumstance.

That if I have a problem to overcome, to not just look at it from one angle. To get up and walk around and see if there is another solution or a better way to look at it. Maybe this solution isn't immediate, maybe it requires learning other skills, applying more practice, or understanding what is needed by thinking more about it.

I have found myself relying on that advice more than ever in recent months. To give myself the space and time to rest and breathe, to mourn and to reach out, to reconnect and reinvigorate.

Pursuit

No one knows what the future holds. But something I am more convinced of than ever before is that I don't have to go speeding into the future. Not all of my efforts will bear fruit. I won't get every interaction right. I know I will make mistakes.

I had initially decided to even hold off on doing any shows at all for the rest of this year. For any of you familiar with this blog you know that I've often talked about not doing shows because of burnout. Thankfully I had a change of heart.

I did a show a few weeks back, in Lawrence, KS, the Freestate Show, and it has a lot of people that I have known in the local comic book and art community that set up at it. I've never missed this show, because I do make some money at it, and I enjoy the vibe of it.

This time I tried to talk to as many people as I could. Old friends, new people, and everyone in between. Looking back, I'm grateful for every single interaction I had, even if in catching up with one another, sadness and weighted loss seemed to be all too common within our words.

But even with that, there was a feeling of familiarity and comfort that washed over me. I remember thinking to myself, “I am living in this moment, we are all here in this moment, laughing, breathing, relating to one another, allowing our voices to resonate to one another's ears about our lives. I don't think I've heard anything more beautiful in quite some time.” 

I'm not making that up. At one point during the show I found myself just people watching. And I started thinking about the first times that I met the people sitting around me at the different tables. The earliest I could remember some of the show attendees showing up at one of Craig’s shows. How much the independent comic scene has changed. It was a bit emotional for me if I'm being honest. 

How much I've missed, and how much I could have missed had I decided to not do the show.

So now what?

My goal is to just take it one day at a time. I recently started posting to YouTube again, and I finally got my workspaces back to some semblance of organization. There's a lot I have to work through, as well as understanding what I still want to do.

It's allowing myself to understand that it's not always easy to put pieces back in place when you have no idea what the completed puzzle is supposed to look like. That is very much the definition of living life.

"Stop measuring days by degree of productivity. Instead experience them by degree of presence." - Alan Watts

Thanks for reading. I appreciate each and every one of you!

- Mario the Artisan Rogue

 


Friday, October 11, 2024

Time after time...

Radar doesn't care for blogging...

"Days become weeks, weeks melt into months, and years pass by faster than ever..."

I'm back to my old habits of working late at night. I tried the whole thing of getting up earlier and attempting to be more efficient through the day. I think my oldest cat, Radar, is wanting me to head to bed because he keeps messing with my leg. He does this little tiny tapping with his paw on the back of my leg. Most of the time I find it to be fairly adorable unless I'm trying to focus on working on the computer or writing. The older I get the more I find that distractions become more and more present and plentiful. It may be that I find focusing on a task to be far more arduous than it was in years prior. It could also be that my cat is extremely tenacious and wanting attention. I think it's the attention thing he's seriously trying to get on my lap between me on the keyboard.

Coming back to things…

Over the years doing this blog I've had moments when a lot of time will pass between entries. I think it's a fairly common thing for a lot of people. Or at least it is among the spectrum of blogs and online journals that I follow. Sometimes it's a simple matter of lack of time, it could be the challenge of organization or inspiration in writing, or maybe just a long standing bout of forgetfulness. I have the propensity to embrace all three of those circumstances, sometimes at the same times.

It took me interacting with a specific brand that I hope to work with in the future to reignite my efforts on here. So I did a little bit of house cleaning, updated some pages, and decided since I was getting over a bout of food poisoning and didn't want to go to sleep at the moment, that I would stay up and get a new blog entry written up.

So far, so good.

Looking at the time…

A few days ago an old friend of mine had posted something on Instagram that not only resonated with me but really overwhelmed me in the moment. It's what led to me thinking about time. Now if you've been reading this blog for any length of time, or you've followed me on any of the other social media channels that I run, you probably already know that I often talk about the passage of time. As a professional artist, as a human being, and as somebody who relives nostalgia and history as big portions of my interests and hobbies.

But this specifically was more in regards to the idea of time melding into a longer linear format. It's something that I'm not a fan of at all, but is very much a part of most jobs, especially in the corporate world. For some people, it can be a comfort zone. Something that day in and day out becomes a friendly rut of repetition and familiarity. For the most part, it can become a formatted system of reliability that can lead to standardized paydays, cubicles that echo elements of one's home, and social circles that grow out of physical proximity and conversations about last weekend’s happenings.

For the short time that I'd worked in corporate America, I was very aware that although the structure of work and demands that existed allowed me to build a better version of skill sets because of the five days a week I spent using a lot of them, something still felt off.

It took a lot of trial and error for me to understand that as much as I tried to fit in, it just wasn't for me. But that really came to bear when I realized how calendar pages really flew by. White boards would announce upcoming birthday celebrations or holidays. And even though the number of days did not change, the passage of time seemed to become shorter and shorter. Literally days became weeks, and the weeks that became months melted into a year that seemed so similar to the one prior that it was apparent how painfully generic the passage of time was becoming.

So for a while I thought after I'd left corporate America, and left behind the few clients I had connected to that world, that I would be able to reclaim a sensible pacing to all the rest of my days ahead. To the contrary, that's not really been the case.

So you’re out of corporate, what now?...

Understand I'm not complaining. I was let go through downsizing from my last major corporate job, and made the decision to leave behind my last corporate freelance client. From a mental health standpoint both of those events were windfalls of positivity for me. Even with the challenge of a lack of steady income, I felt that I could breathe easier and the daily stresses I had all but disappeared virtually overnight.

But now I faced a different dilemma. Being a full time freelancer, is something that I've always dreaded and dreamed of. I'm my own boss, but I can be my own business loss as well.

Surprisingly when I thought I would gain back a lot more time, I found that the freedom to be able to do literally whatever I wanted, was the most unhinged thing that could happen to me. At first it was kind of cool. I could go shopping when I wanted. For the first time in my life I didn't have to report to a manager, make small talk, or have to worry about rush hour traffic. Those are some great positives. But the same thing that happened before, started happening again. Although this time, it wasn't just time slipstreaming by, there was a now painfully present void comprised of directionless energy. And although I had a massive amount of ideas and efforts I wanted to accommodate and complete, I was at a loss as to how to go about it!

It's similar to wanting to make artwork, or write something for your book, and all you have in front of you is a stark white blank page. The forefront of my mind reengaged an old idea that I've had play more and more often, the fact that freedom isn't as important to people as much as order and organization. Limitation and constraints can often lead to more focused creative energy and spontaneous liberation of thought when breaking out of pre formatted boundaries. But when someone is given free range to do anything, the feeling of being lost on the mat before you even take the first step is absolutely a real one.

Three more months…

I say three more months but it's less than that before 2025. I spent the last few months really engaged in what I expect out of myself and what I hope for the future. Some of this came from having spoken to friends of mine that own businesses and have one year to five year plans. I'm lucky if I can formulate situational awareness for the grocery list I need this week.

There have been intermittent days where the passage of time has absolutely debilitated me with crushing depression and anxiety. Which in turn, makes it even worse. It's bad enough to be a rock in a stream with water flowing around you, but I feel like that same rock with floodwaters from a hurricane now throwing me into directions I had no intention of ever heading towards.

The good thing is I'm not a rock. I have the ability to walk, to think, and to find a path to where I want to be in life for the rest of my creative days. While practicing mindfulness recently, I've come to the acceptance that there are things in life that I will never be able to do. Either because of age or money, time or other limitations. I'm beginning to be alright with that. But I also need to be alright with allowing myself to challenge every day, with obstacles that I choose to put in place so that my life is filled with experiences and events that not only helped me grow, but help me appreciate and fill the passage of time with the source of memories that seem to slow it down.

What do you do when it seems that life isn't slowing down?

- Mario, the Artisan Rogue

Wednesday, January 31, 2024

What it means to be an artist, or an oyster...

"What it means to be an artist, or an oyster..."

A statement that I wish I had a better answer for.

I wrote this with Luna Lovefood on my lap in her new sweater.

If I gave the definition of what western society in general defines it to be, it might be a life of non-work. An existence sleeping in, doing what one wants, when they want. A life mitigated only by the imagination of the artist. When seen at an art show, they've undoubtedly "made it". They have numerous patrons, gallery shows, and the visual appearances any creative will have, should be reflective of the perhaps bohemian and borderline lawless and carefree lifestyle they no doubt enjoy daily.

That fantasy laded optic is so askew of the truth for at least 95% of creatives, it's depressing.

A message posted by a friend and colleague, really hit it on the head about being an artist in this modern world. It reflected the same sort of thoughts I have about money, social media, and the almost mundane necessity to stay relevant or at least seen, by participating in digital interactions as much as possible.

Facts be told, one must not only be "out there", putting time into creating, but also learning, marketing, attempting to capture the attention of anyone willing to listen, read, or appreciate what we offer through the semi porous translucent membrane of human perceptions and expectations.

As I shared in my last video journal entry, this is a year I'm taking to experiment and attempt to expand my horizons. All without doing the shows and conventions that I've normally done.

If it sounds insane, that's because it is.

But to that point, I am the single person effort behind relaunching my podcast, to all of the editorial, site design, media creation, and marketing that is involved. This takes no account of my comic work, illustration and design for clients, or time for rest and spending time on things like hobbies or those that matter to me. 

A point was made, in that post from my colleague, about the way that modern day marketing works. It's an unfortunate and uncomfortable truth that the more we post, promote, and create content of whatever kind, the better a chance we have of our work being discovered and appreciated. Even if most of the time it feels like we are yelling inside of an auditorium, with empty seats or worse yet, seats filled with people brimming with torpid disinterest.

At conventions and shows, you may find yourself silently screaming for attention as everyone else around you does the exact same. All vying for the chance someone will choose to stop and consider what we have and who we are. 

It reminds me of the faces of the animals in shelters. The overlooked ones feel pain you might not immediately recognize. The difference is many of us get to go home. They may never get that chance.

When I create something, and take the time to nurture and entwine it with effort from the mind and heart, navigated by an eye for clean design and presentation, rounded out by a proficiency and knowledge in them, I would love to think that there would be no problem gaining ground and making a living as an artist. That people would be elated to see something new. That people really can appreciate something made by a fellow human being.

Typing that last paragraph out makes it sound like I'm being petulant and difficult in my expectations of how working in a creative field is.

It's more born from burnout and the understanding that I'm part of a generation of artists drawn to mirage like goals placed by college and societal expectations. But then realizing that my career started at a point where a lot of the ways that the world of illustration worked, were heading on their way out. An extinction of skillsets in the name of corporate progress and banality.

Don't misunderstand me, I am grateful for the opportunities I've had and the often tumultuous paths I've taken to get to where I am. I’m just more of a realist these days.

But I'm well aware that life is often presented to us as an oyster when we are young.

You know the saying. 

That the world is our oyster. That's a weird idea to present to a graduating class, or someone suffering depression. 

I imagine it means that when we open it up we will find a pearl. But if I remember right, it takes a granule of sand entering the internal area of an oyster, causing irritations, which lead to the creation of a pearl.

If one takes that literally, it makes no sense in today's world, but then again it does. Much like the struggle of maintaining an online presence and attempting to be witty, creative, authentic, whatever other sort of adjective you want to place here, there is a duality to the idea of an oyster being your world.

It would mean that you have to be irritating enough to create something that is held at value by others, who can forcibly remove it from you and then present it as something they found and will sell at some later point without your involvement. We've become so comfortable with the work for hire aspect of nameless creation in the name of an umbrella brand, it's a wonder that any creative cut loose in layoffs doesn't just take up a whole other less stressful job like bathing rabid orangutans. 

But an oyster does tend to parallel to what a lot of people in life do.

When we are young starting as larva/children we are buoyant and move around by foot until we find somewhere to attach themselves for the rest of their lives, until something comes along and removes us forcibly. Oddly enough historically, that's one commonality, it's almost always humans that will do that to both of us.

Talking specifically about creative people, and I will use myself as the example, it's extremely easy to look back on my younger years and realize how much more freedom I never realized I had at the time.

How today, I am much less entrenched in my worldviews and habits. But that isn't true of the points of my professional life. I'm not even talking a physical location necessarily. It could be a long standing goal I've never gotten to. It could be making time for other people or experiences. Or dealing with any of the other challenges in life that fear and insecurity threatened to rob me of.

And yet there's a necessity to put myself out there. It goes beyond whatever I create, and relies on me doing all I listed above and also being some form of a social butterfly.

Marketing and taking the time to engage and network in a world that already doesn't know which direction it's really going, is simultaneously somehow erratically rewarding and also the most infuriatingly manufactured effort any one of us could produce.

There is no such thing as perfection. At least not in the way that so many of us strive for an expect out of life. In fact we will often raise or lower the bar to attain a status closer to our idealized concept of perfection, to make ourselves feel better and keep ourselves motivated.

Back around the middle of December I had decided that I would more than likely get completely off of social media for one year, and do absolutely no shows. I wanted to see if anyone would notice. I wanted to see what that would do to whatever ego I had. I wondered how much interaction and reciprocate of comments or likes were more valuable in my head, than me creating anything of real artistic merit or worth. I did realize quickly that that is financial suicide in more ways than one. That and I only have so much bone marrow to sell.

The unfortunate truth is that so many people are far more engaged with what they have going on that unless one has a sizable following online, I'm willing to wager that most people wouldn't notice or care that someone hadn't posted or shown anything off for a while. 

The social media machine is one that doesn't allow for extremely critical thinking or deep assessment of the connections we carry in life. To the contrary, it becomes more and more of an echo chamber.

Don't get me wrong, I am absolutely somebody that understands where I fit in all of this. And social media can and has often provided a connection point for people in my life that I may not see as often, or realistically may never see in person again. There are good things about it.

But the questions come up in my mind about how necessary and how honest are my efforts in what I create. I wonder to myself that if I excised myself from focusing so much on interacting online daily, exactly how much more what I accomplish in a week, a month, or a year?

I'm approaching this from a very personal standpoint. The more innocent, possibly high minded concept of what the internet would be and had potential to become, has more and more become a reflecting pool where we sometimes don't recognize the reflection anymore. What was once heralded as a bastion of information exchange has instead become a bastard. But a charismatic bastard, wearing cheap AI cologne.

It's an addiction, an emotional one, that is fastidious and painfully hard to rid of ourselves. Modern interactions happen more often via phone and screens, and it's not uncommon to see derisive ideologies about interacting in person with others. Something that is so fundamentally skewed when you consider that the human race is fundamentally community based and herd like mentality.

Everything I've stated above is what lingers in my mind when I release an image of a piece of artwork that I've spent a few hours on. It's what's in my head as I edit the videos that you may watch on my YouTube channel. It inhabits my secondary reactions when I forget my phone and cannot chronicle something to share later in a journal, or I'm unable to write something down and save it to my notes app. 

All of those reactions come from the need to stay current, gain the attention of people if even for a few seconds, and also bring about a disability in comparative structure with others experiences and lives. We see things said online as windows into another person's life. We often forget how carefully edited and staged much of what we ingest truly is. Some people would say that we've had that as long as storytelling has existed, as long as television programs have been around, so I feel honest when I'm trying to tell the stories of what I go through as an artist today.

I have to remind myself that what I'm trying to do will have longevity and merit if I keep it honest, straightforward, and keep as much of myself in it as I possibly can. While also at the same time not flinging myself off the cliff's edge of oversaturation and overexposure, or if quite frankly, I do whatever and no one gives a shit.

Sometimes I wish humans could live to be older, perhaps around 200 to 250 years old. Not just because of the immense amount of things we could learn and master with an extended lifetime, but we would witness even more vibrant and probably confusing trends emerge in modern society. I say that from a  somewhat ignorant view, that a longer lifespan could allow us all to give time for the things in life that matter. 

Self reflection and taking time to appreciate the world around us more, embracing wisdom to a depth few if any have ever achieved. Maybe in that stretch of time we'd also come to realize that things like engrossing ourselves within the modern facets of social media, need not be anything more than a passing fad. Enjoy it, but don't make it a false alter of worship and admiration. 

So I guess what I'm trying to say is, as much of a challenge as it is to be a creative individual, it is far more difficult to be a creative individual today, that can produce things that people will take the time to invest in and value. Because the real challenge may not always be that it’s your art that is undervalued, it's instead the amount of time and life spent on our parts that has no real perceived value. Just ask anyone working in HR. 

Don't believe me? Go to any major museum and listen to the some of the comments and conversations in the art galleries, the history item rooms. Just make sure you have a therapy appointment later that day lined up.

Thanks for reading, I sincerely appreciate it. 

- Mario, the Artisan Rogue