Crafters Regret

A funny thing happened on my way to the internet.

Despite having created the horde of Doctor Who paintings, the Nerdy Nail Polish, the first set of RPG Barbies, and all the other little random jokes here and there it was the rise of the Elder God that caught the little subset of Internet Nerds who get to decide what is and is not worth mentioning.

My little Cthulhu Barbie got a mention on the holiday dump day on io9.

Normally I'd be jumping up and down like a rabbit free basing espresso, but in the 24 hours or so since I found out I had enough time to get beaten down by what every single person who ever has something shared on a large forum of the internet must suffer.

Out came the armchair critics in full force.

It seemed for every person in the comments, as she streaked across the internet tubes like a prom queen that got blitzed on ever clear, there was one who got the joke and thought it was fun there was another who decided it was their nerdly civic duty to point out how they didn't like it.

Not in any helpful or even constructive way, it was just "I don't like this. That's poorly made. Why can't people I have never interacted with create exactly what I want to see?"

That's how the internet armchair critic survives, by assuming that every thing that is ever put in front of him was created solely with his pleasure in mind. It's a fascinating race of hedonists who exist solely in front of a small screen.

Those who can, do. Those who can't, bitch about how they'd do it better.

I've accepted that I shall never convince anyone that it is actually a person behind that picture you see, that bit of text you read, that quote you share. It wasn't formed in space by a committee of robots (well except for Horse e_books). Someone had to put in work, blood, sweat, tears and skittles to create what is at best sneered at in a few seconds.

This happened once before with my M.C. Escher Tardis painting.

What was perhaps the most telling commentary on the whole thing, because this took place on my g+ wall (remember that heady month when everyone was plussing with wild abandon?) the second I challenged them to do it better they both backed down, bowing and scraping because they didn't realize I'd created it.

So you got called out on your shit by the cobbler of the image. Big, fucking what. Even if I'd found it lurking in the bowels of the net it still had to be created by someone.

Someone with a vision different than yours, who did not fucking create it to appease you. Who had their own artistic vision and wanted to put it out there.

For every 1 artist there are a 1000 critics, and that's why there are so few artists who even pick up a brush.

My Tardis paintings were born of the idea of The Doctor having such an influence on the greats they'd include her in their famous work.

And Cthulhu Barbie was born from the idea of creating one of those Collector Barbies but for Lovecraft. I had no intention of creating an actual Cthulhu figure with Barbie as the base (because that's just fucking stupid) and I specifically wanted to keep her dress.

I did not create it to impress some fucking trolls who will deign it with a passing glance then close the tab with their cheetos stained fingers.

It took me a long time to arrive at this stage.

I had to go through the stages of troll grief: anger, sadness, regret, rage, HULK then finally SHOW THOSE BASTARD'S HOW FUCKING WRONG THEY ARE! 

And after wiping the dirt from my knees (I used my Hulk powers to attack some triffid roots who took hold a good four feet down), coating my sunburned back in aloe, I came back fighting already working to figure out how to construct my own set of Barbie chainmail.

So fuck you trolls, I'd say you're just jealous but you're not even worth that bullying excuse. You're simple, sad pathetic people who shall never create anything in your life, preferring to attempt to castrate anyone who does.


I know which side I prefer to be on.