The Spirit Called Him Home
I had the pleasure to meet Will Eisner once, a few years ago. It was at a Sequential Art forum at my undergrad. A panel of artists and writers were discussing their art, the medium as a whole and generally being very nice to a bunch of geeks who desperately wanted to be just like them. And there he was. This old man with a white beard. He looked like Santa Clause and even acted a bit like him too, sitting there after the panel, enthusiastically chatting with a bunch of students who were hoping that if they stood there next to him long enough, some of his talent might rub off on them.
it's always unfortunate when someone who effected the way you look at the world (even indirectly) dies. It's like a thread has been cut and the tension it held, released. Now, a part of you, held in place by that thread for so long, flaps in the breeze, unteathered to anything substantial. I guess that will happen more and more, and in substantially more significant ways as I get older. But at least he left behind a body of work that will forever inspire young kids like me to go out into the world and make art, or at least, try to, anyway.