I was a Magic: The Gathering geek. Even worse I was and still am quite a bit of an art fart. A broken down and poor art fart but it's in me. When you grow up with limited expenditures you get your jollies where they fall and Magic was my jolly. It was my source of communication with my peers and chance for me to make a reputation. It was like poker except prettier.

I shan't bore you with the particulars of Magic rules. Discuss among yourselves if you want but me I choose to reminisce about the glory days of ogling over the colored treasure chest that was a Magic: The Gathering booster pack. You had no idea what idea you were going to get you know. If you were lucky you might actually get something that hadn't crossed your path yet. Naturally I was interested in the various strengths and powers each card would bring into my game play but my first real love was the pictures. It was like comic books but more snazzy somehow and with a better sense of impact. Magic The Gathering art could range from the horrific to the sublime from the spiritual to the decadent. There was lots and lots of spaces in between and let's be honest here most of us live in the in between.

As I player I was mediocre. But as a connoisseur of embellishment there just wasn't a compare. I could go on and on how the lines of a Serra angel accentuated the frail beauty of the flying 4/4 attacker. How the vine etched skin of Grandmother Sengir accentuated the horror of the artist's communication. While my comrades in cardboard had favorite cards or favorite winning combinations I had favorite artists. Melissa Benson, Pete Venters, and Phil Foglio. One time I traded a stronger card for a weaker card solely on the basis of aesthetics. I was flippant but at least I knew my place.