mancameron

aw!! that’s a crazy cool find, dang. my partner and i are also collecting the japanese version of that set! only 4 cards so far but we love the thrill of the hunt haha

this has been my battle, more or less, for the last couple of years- i’m sorry that something similar is weighing you down joe. :^( for what little it is worth, my spark/drive/etc is rekindled every so often after i’ve nursed whatever part of myself needed it most. it’s frustrating & confusing!

a figure is surrounded by fragments of a shattered house. the figure’s face is obscured by debris, his body turned away from the viewer. everything is floating, dreamlike, and a single word balloon emanates from the empty window above to say, “where do you even begin?” in hot pink text.

i’m still very lost with my life, but at least i drew something after i spiraled for hours yesterday ✏️

man, i used to fucking draw. who am i anymore lmao

The cover spread of the book, Ghost Walks. A large field with dilapidated houses, seemingly fallen from the sky, is inhabited by small ghostly forms. A bright blue sky is over head. The book blurb reads, "Over five years in the making, Ghost Walks is a sprawling poetry collection gathering prose from sketchbooks, scraps of paper, and the author's notes app. Cameron's work within handles loss, longing, love with a bare and earnest heart. Merging celestial phenomena with history and a personal pantheon of his own, he weaves mundane moments into something sacred."

A page excerpt from the book. The poem, "a story", is surrounded by illustration- flowers, shooting stars, a crumbling house, a figure obscured. The poem reads, i want you to tell me a story a beginning, a middle an end. where everything goes right- it always went right. i’ve asked this enough to last until god snuffs out our wicks- there’s no hint in the eyes, in the breath that you mind. everyone gathers ‘round to witness another miracle. a defiance, right here in southern suburbia; you take a breath–

A page spread excerpt from the book. The poem, "god damns the soil", reads: god damns the soil with a stale 40, bored like one decides which tie looks best for a funeral. salted, the fauna flee first; propelled by something far older than the world, long before the grasses turn and wither. next, unease moves in buys a new condo at ten under asking (what a bargain, they’d say)— the bushes & violets blanch. something's in the water these days, pooling in between the cracking pavement slabs, weeds don’t see the point of trying anymore. you once dove back over and over, but the crick’s gone shallow; the well only brings up something brackish these days. ... something's in the water these days, turning daughters into shallow graves. barren cemetery dirt peels into lazy curls, hangs there limp at your shoulders; steady pressure on the vertebrae … it's a shame— you never stood a chance.

It's finally done! 160+ pages of poetry, illustration, and nonsense by yours truly. Print books are being worked on, but a digital edition is available through my itchio storefront (linked next post). I really hope y'all enjoy it. #poetry #smallpress

i forgot to add a dot com to the link… whoops. fixed the link here!
✨ hauntedenamel.storenvy.com ✨

Forgot to say I added another edition of the book as spreads! There's a bunch of page spreads in the book that look so much better as one complete image. thanks again for the shares y'all!

how does one get a job in book design??? cos doing this on my own is lonely and i would like healthcare. i didn’t get that fellowship, which isn’t the biggest surprise, but it still sucks. also please check out my dumb poetry book 🙃

A page excerpt from the book. The poem, "schrödinger’s cat", is surrounded by an illustration of a cat in a carboard box. Stars and a paper airplane fly by the cat, who peeks out at it. The poem reads, schrödinger’s cat- opened / unopened peeking out to look at you, starry eyes gently ask “what’s in yours?” a cardboard box- where a ribcage should be she paws softly at your chest, waiting for an observation schrödinger’s heart.

A page spread exerpt from the book. The poem, "empty year / it has been a year", reads, it has been a year since everything got worse & i am, as i was, not sure why it had to be. i wonder when i’ll be okay again instead of whatever this is. jumping at the shadows of the people i love— hiding from their sun, since i’ve fancied myself the moon. sucks to find the phone line severed, not sure who had the scissors. i’ll blame you because tragedy plus time has made me a dick it has been a year that i am most tired of; empty, loud, cold. a year of chewed lips and panicked texts and heavier weeknights. it has been more than that it has been a fucking year inside words i do not occupy— the wrong medicine given for a careless diagnosis, but (heartily) accepted. i know, & i will never again, be sunset to another’s sunrise. i think i did something, and it made you mad or it hurt or it ground against your teeth at night— & i am, and i’ll remain, not sure what the point was in words without meaning. i can feel it coming waves, underneath the surface unsettled by a satellite, unmedicated and erratic

A page spread excerpt from the book. The continuation of "empty year / it has been a year." A small illustration of a figure sitting on a shattered house, surrounded by ghosts, and illustrative text that says "i deserve a good year." The rest of the poem reads, so i keep running inland ahead of it, tearing at my heels a phantom tsunami only i can see — out there, at the coast where i left you all, moving on, gently stepping around my chalk outline because, as you know, might as well be dead, right? it makes sense to my panic drenched to the bone, & deeper this corrosive has eaten through each stilt i thought sturdy so while it rips me up from the foundation, i wonder when will i be okay again? and as the ocean surges back my tail between my legs i think- i don’t remember what that is anymore, do i? i’m not who i thought i was on level ground there’s something in the sound of empty spaces still ringing a voice unsure, will i ever be okay again? you said a lot of things, and nothing at all, every empty word echoing in this empty year. it has been a long year that could of been better, & gratefully, slowly, i am learning how it would have looked from kinder hands.

Here are some more excerpts from the book, and the link for the digital edition: mancameron.itch.io/ghost-walks

The cover spread of the book, Ghost Walks. A large field with dilapidated houses, seemingly fallen from the sky, is inhabited by small ghostly forms. A bright blue sky is over head. The book blurb reads, "Over five years in the making, Ghost Walks is a sprawling poetry collection gathering prose from sketchbooks, scraps of paper, and the author's notes app. Cameron's work within handles loss, longing, love with a bare and earnest heart. Merging celestial phenomena with history and a personal pantheon of his own, he weaves mundane moments into something sacred."

A page excerpt from the book. The poem, "a story", is surrounded by illustration- flowers, shooting stars, a crumbling house, a figure obscured. The poem reads, i want you to tell me a story a beginning, a middle an end. where everything goes right- it always went right. i’ve asked this enough to last until god snuffs out our wicks- there’s no hint in the eyes, in the breath that you mind. everyone gathers ‘round to witness another miracle. a defiance, right here in southern suburbia; you take a breath–

A page spread excerpt from the book. The poem, "god damns the soil", reads: god damns the soil with a stale 40, bored like one decides which tie looks best for a funeral. salted, the fauna flee first; propelled by something far older than the world, long before the grasses turn and wither. next, unease moves in buys a new condo at ten under asking (what a bargain, they’d say)— the bushes & violets blanch. something's in the water these days, pooling in between the cracking pavement slabs, weeds don’t see the point of trying anymore. you once dove back over and over, but the crick’s gone shallow; the well only brings up something brackish these days. ... something's in the water these days, turning daughters into shallow graves. barren cemetery dirt peels into lazy curls, hangs there limp at your shoulders; steady pressure on the vertebrae … it's a shame— you never stood a chance.

It's finally done! 160+ pages of poetry, illustration, and nonsense by yours truly. Print books are being worked on, but a digital edition is available through my itchio storefront (linked next post). I really hope y'all enjoy it. #poetry #smallpress

i finished a book of poetry that’s taken 5 years to write and compile together. every accomplishment feels hollow and stupid in the face of what’s happening these days. i hate this fucking country and i hate how proud i am of this dumb book but oh well i guess

A picture of my desk, with a bunch of blockprinting stuff scattered across it.

A part of some wedding stationary I designed- the words “gracias a la vida” encircle two flowers.

i’ve been feeling reconnected with my creative well again. i know i sound like a broken record, cos i feel like a broken record! there’s been a lot of shame and guilt wrapped up in this weird state of atrophy. i feel like a failure on so many fronts, but i will take this win.

The cover image for my poetry book, Ghost Walks. A vast field of grass is littered with dilapidated houses and debris, with little ghosts floating in and around the structures.

A page excerpt from Ghost Walks. Sketches surround the poem, which is titled ‘artwork.’ you gotta work- or the story in your pen will die, never sharing its heart on sheets of dead trees. draw what you like, what you love, all the things that set you aflame & leave only quiet, tired bones behind. draw everything that hurts, arouses, and frustrates you— draw, because what else is there for a fool like you?

A promotional image for my book, Ghost Walks. The text reads: Ghost Walks is my largest collection of poetry to date. This book gathers about five years worth of poetry scattered about in sketchbooks and my notes app. They come to me a lot while I'm in my head, lost within a feeling. I like to call them 'ghost walks,' since they feel like I've gone somewhere and nowhere- hence the title. This is a digital, incomplete version of the book, which will continue to be updated. Thank you for supporting my work, and I hope you enjoy. All my love, Cameron

hey y’all, i have a new book up for sale on my itchio store. ghost walks will collect around 5+ years worth of poetry and sketches, and it’s something i’m really proud of. it’s a WIP, but future updates will bring the page count to ~120+ pages, so it’s a big boy ✨📖✨

actually, could a crushed soda bottle do THIS? i think not

somehow submitted an application for a book publisher fellowship at the last minute and i feel like a crushed soda bottle

A slide from my presentation on poetry comics, which introduces the first of three formats I’ve come to notice as distinct formats for the medium (at least in my work). The text reads: Image & Text Base format for poetry comics. The stanza is paired with an illustration (usually in a panel). Both elements, pictorial and text, are equal in their reading importance. The visual element can be used to elaborate, contrast, create a narrative, draw allegory, etcetera to the text.

A picture of two examples I did during the workshop of the three formats. The examples are done in a collage style, with the same poem used in both to show how each format changes the impact and balance between the text and pictorial elements.

taught a workshop today on poetry comics and felt another piece of myself reassemble? pretty proud of what i put together!

A slide from my presentation on poetry comics, which introduces the first of three formats I’ve come to notice as distinct formats for the medium (at least in my work). The text reads: Image & Text Base format for poetry comics. The stanza is paired with an illustration (usually in a panel). Both elements, pictorial and text, are equal in their reading importance. The visual element can be used to elaborate, contrast, create a narrative, draw allegory, etcetera to the text.

A picture of two examples I did during the workshop of the three formats. The examples are done in a collage style, with the same poem used in both to show how each format changes the impact and balance between the text and pictorial elements.

taught a workshop today on poetry comics and felt another piece of myself reassemble? pretty proud of what i put together!

trying to manifest something. one day i’m gonna get back to myself. one day i’m gonna stop living like a contortionist, hiding away because doing anything in a public or online setting makes my stomach turn. one day i’ll say hello and apologize and beg forgiveness and ask about everything

finishing the last little details on this and it’s clocking in at 168 pages, so that’s kinda cool 📖

A page from my book, Ghost Walks. It reads: ‘happy’ one mistaken for seven a rush out the door, & we're head first,sweetheart heels following soon after- it all makes sense. fall warbles, caught dead in the headlights middle of the road, and god, it could all fall apart you know? fall keeps standing there eyes bright, a warning or brilliant guiding stars it stands there. heralding seasons & years & oh my god you know that i'm happy but wondering leads to typing frantic prayers on my phone; i've never known this— the facsimile or the falsehood (continued in the next image)

The continuation of the poem from the previous image. It reads: cups of coffee & waiting around for you to walk in again. what was i doing all this time? you know that i'm happy you know that, i've told you goddamn, boy. goddamn.

A page from my book, Ghost Walks. Sketches surround the poem, the text of which looks jostled around. It reads: "a story" i want you to tell me a story a beginning, a middle an end. where everything goes right- it always went right. i've asked this enough to last until god snuffs out our wicks- there's no hint in the eyes, in the breath that you mind. everyone gathers ‘round to witness another miracle. a defiance, right here in southern suburbia; you take a breath—

A promotional image for my book, Ghost Walks. It reads: You can purchase the digital edition of Ghost Walks, along with other comics and zines, at the link below. MANCAMERON.ITCH.IO

as always, any support is really appreciated! and thank you to those who’ve bought stuff recently, it’s helped enormously. here’s the direct link for the book: mancameron.itch.io/ghost-walks

The cover image for my poetry book, Ghost Walks. A vast field of grass is littered with dilapidated houses and debris, with little ghosts floating in and around the structures.

A page excerpt from Ghost Walks. Sketches surround the poem, which is titled ‘artwork.’ you gotta work- or the story in your pen will die, never sharing its heart on sheets of dead trees. draw what you like, what you love, all the things that set you aflame & leave only quiet, tired bones behind. draw everything that hurts, arouses, and frustrates you— draw, because what else is there for a fool like you?

A promotional image for my book, Ghost Walks. The text reads: Ghost Walks is my largest collection of poetry to date. This book gathers about five years worth of poetry scattered about in sketchbooks and my notes app. They come to me a lot while I'm in my head, lost within a feeling. I like to call them 'ghost walks,' since they feel like I've gone somewhere and nowhere- hence the title. This is a digital, incomplete version of the book, which will continue to be updated. Thank you for supporting my work, and I hope you enjoy. All my love, Cameron

hey y’all, i have a new book up for sale on my itchio store. ghost walks will collect around 5+ years worth of poetry and sketches, and it’s something i’m really proud of. it’s a WIP, but future updates will bring the page count to ~120+ pages, so it’s a big boy ✨📖✨

i forgot to add a dot com to the link… whoops. fixed the link here!
✨ hauntedenamel.storenvy.com ✨

mancameron

there’s also digital zine pdf’s available on my itch storefront. thanks again for any support y’all can spare!

A wide image in dusty pink, advertising my services as an illustrator and designer. You can email me at mancameronart@gmail.com for any design inquiries.

A top down view of various merch I have made- enamel pins, zines, prints, a shirt design. Most are available for sale on my storefront.

please send any design work inquiries to the email listed in the image attached. the other is examples of my design work + shows some of what i have for sale on my storefront.

keeping this short- in a little financial bind atm. my online storefront is open and i’m also open to taking on logotype/design work, so please get in touch if you’re in the market. gonna thread some links/etc below- thank you! stay warm out there 😊

i keep planning for a future and it always finds a way to unravel and somehow, rent is still due every month. every couple of months i try and use social media, reclaim some version of myself, only to crumble again and again. i’m hoping this time is different! but i’m tired all the time.

i have to submit final grades for my students this week and all i’ve been thinking about is how my mom called the morning after the election in tears. i gave up a job w/ healthcare to teach illustration in august. my bf and i just moved to a new apartment in july

my car got a flat tire the day before the final class i’ve been teaching this semester. today, my bf and i swapped it for the spare before he went to work. it was surprisingly easy. i plan to sell the car when we move to chicago with my family next year, but it’s nice to know i can change a tire now

Page 1 of a comic. The style is inspired by late 50s/60s science illustrations- a sun dominates the bottom right corner, with a large pink pencil above it. A thin white strip spirals above them both, then wraps around the pencil a few times before trailing off the bottom of the page. The title, RETURN, rests in the right hand corner.

A large face takes up the right side of page 2. Pink squiggles resembling a brain fill the top right corner, while two planetoids (and their shadows) cross the entire page from lower left to upper right. The poetry text reads: saturn cannot be blamed for much longer, sweetheart— your sun (moon, rising, whatever) gave up the ghost how many summers ago?

Page 3 has a greyscale figure on the left side, looking worriedly at a planetoid that orbits around his head. Another hand reached out from the upper right corner, fingers about to grasp the planetoid. The poetry text reads: elliptical or spiral, your orbit keeps digging deeper grooves in the reclaimed hardwood floor- the event horizon bristles, moves to the sunroom as you carve canyons, eyes glued on your rearview mirror.

Page 4. Five yellow, orange, brown toned lollipop shapes take up the upper half of the page, a half circle of a moon rests at the bottom. A darker purple semicircle is decorated with constellations that overlay the lollipop shapes. The poetry text reads: “certainly, it’s still there— right?” you cry, hands at nine and three. “it has to be,” comets chirp sympathetically, knowing that exit sign is long gone; there’s no sender to return to.

saturn’s return, or something like that 🪐💫✨

i still berate myself for how i handled my shit, and dearly miss the people i actively pushed away in my meltdown. i’ve come to forgive myself and make peace knowing those friendships will never truly recover. i’m so grateful for the ones who saw all my ugly and still cherish our friendship