Inktoberby Stephen Embleton
IT STARTED out as a .
The next day it was a o
The day after that it was a O
By the end of the week it was a
The month of October had been a daily cycle of a few artist friends posting their black-and-white masterpieces online. I can’t draw for s**t, so had to watch the praise and adulation heaped on them every time a pic was uploaded. Until I finally cracked on the last day.
I infused all my condescension, all my self-righteousness, all my indignity and superiority into that one little mark—that single, inked dot on a rough page.
I even tore it out of the ring binding, found an old frame in the cupboard and slapped it behind the glass and onto a random gap on a wall in my living room; just to the left of the TV, and purposefully skew.
I’d smirked to mys
