I re-read Nate Powell's "Tiny Giants" today. There is always something new to catch. New to miss. I love how complex his work can get, like you could get stuck trying to figure out why he moved the frames the way he did, and never actually get to the words. The stories. The stories sort of bully you in a very emotional way, at least to me, they seem to point directly at me and ask what I'm going to do about all of this. It is easy to feel debilitated because you are confused, or because words are "so obscenely one sided." I always wanted to be an artist, but couldn't really draw. Just wasn't that good. So I took to words to try to re-create and re-format the images that came about in my head. But, I feel like words lack so much, and not that pictures don't have their own faults, but they speak in a way words can't. I just wonder if I had been able to draw, how I would feel about pictures and how I would feel about words.
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