Everybody who makes art kind of ends up making art about one thing. And when you look back on your art from before you started making art about your one thing, you'll realize that you've actually been making art about that thing the whole time without knowing it. This is a post about Matt Johnson.
Imagine only being able to tell stories about someone who has an endless reserve of love and devotion and no idea where to put it. Someone who can't help but cling to what they have even as that very clinging is what's making it pull away from him. Someone who needs to know it's real, to know you'd always choose him even when he's at his worst, to put distance between himself and the object of his devotion for fear that they might not like what they see. To be louder and bigger and more unstable and more unpredictable in the vulnerable hope that even after all that, you still choose him. That it's never been about what he can do or what he says or even who he is. That it's about you. That you chose him. That nothing he can do would ever change that. But also that he must never experience it. That he will always be chosen second. That the object of his devotion will always reject that devotion, and that he will still give it anyway. That in an instance where his best friend is putting the entire world before him, he still chooses devotion. That he never gets to know that he was chosen back. Imagine that being your creative crux, your monomyth, your Sumerian empire. Imagine only being able to tell that story, and have only ever told that story. I dunno. Whatever.
I hope matt johnson knows he did look good in drag.
