It's Dark Inside

Do you ever have those times when you not only feel invisible, but also prefer it that way?
Times when the only point you feel comfort is when disconnected from the outer world?

How disparate is your will from your desire?

Is the dark a terrifying place, concealing all manner of unseen dangers and horrors?
Or is the dark a liberating place, removing all confines and barriers?

Nyctophile is a loverly* word, no?

How much of you will outlast you?
Thinking on my artworks, i've come to realize that a great deal of my best works will go unseen, much already wiped from existence. The vast majority of work done on paper/canvas/walls/etc.,. is long gone, possibly fragments in the hands of old friends, acquaintances or fans. A handful of convention sketches in back closets and basements. Xeroxes in old APAs. Some ancient game manuals tucked away under layers of dust.
Work survives, of course, in the form of games, videos, graphic novels, old magazines, and whatnot. But those were digital creations, never seeing paper until print, if at all. 
I switched over almost entirely to computer for my artwork nearly a quarter century back. 
There's nearly nothing left from before that time, and the early days of the digital work is lost to old media - ancient floppies, zip disks and WangDat data tapes. Cartoons never released and experiments unshared with the world already long gone.

And what work i do these days, while far superior to anything created during my professional career, is the modern equivalent of painting on my cave wall. I show them to a few, and a small percentage gets dragged out to be seen in the light outside the cave - but most is already pixelated dust in the wind.

Created unseen, and likely vanished unknown.


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*(I can't believe i still haven't checked out NPH's version yet!)