Saturday, February 23, 2013

The One With No Name

Inside the artist lives a ronin – an unconventional being known only as the one with no name. An eccentric stranger with an unorthodox sense of justice; this stranger comes to town with an extraordinary proficiency – with an image, a word, a rhythm, a look or a sound. People know of the stranger only by reputation, and they speak of the arrival only in whispers. In the dusty saddlebags lay the stranger's weapons.... a pen, a thought, a worn paint brush, a lens, a pencil or two, an instrument, a voice, a chisel, or some pixels.

It is not for the stranger to mingle with others. It keeps company only with the artist. The one with no name will not bother others. They are incidental. If they don't interfere there will be no trouble. Most know to step back and give this consummate pro plenty of room.

Once triggered, years of training spring into action... and justice is dealt out swiftly and without mercy. Sometimes for no other reason but because it needs to be done.

Marisol: Why are you doing this for us?
The One With No Name: Because I knew someone like you once and there was no one there to help. ~ A Fistful of Dollars

When the job is done, the stranger leaves town as quietly as it came. And the townspeople stand in the middle of the dusty road and watch as this enigma rides into the sunset. To right the next wrong. To bring justice to an unjust world. One work of art at a time...

2 comments:

  1. Nice drawing! Which makes me wonder why you don't do more of this kind of thing? Yep, I've got one of those strangers that lives in my head. It's always nice when it/he/she comes to visit. Excuse me now... I need to contemplate the person who rolls toilet paper...

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