How my time with Corey evolved me.

I wonder if my black slacks still fit. 

That was one of the thoughts bouncing around my head this morning.

I'm going to a funeral right after coming from a high school graduation (immediately followed by tattooing). I'm already preparing to process those very different emotional adjustments in real-time.

The funeral is for Corey Davis. I've been thinking deeply about our history. To be honest, in the first 5 years of knowing him, I'd say we weren't really "friends." It's more like we respected each other as creatives. 

If you put two artists on a scale, you wouldn't find two guys who were so different yet similar. 

The main difference is what we wanted from our talents. Corey gravitated toward fame and had a knack for making sure everyone knew he was in a room. He was always the life of the party, and he relished in it. The guy had Warhol and Basquiat tattooed on his hands. He considered himself in the same breath. 

On the other hand, I cared about being the best, yet letting my work speak for me. I'm quiet and like to blend into a room. I cherish being a regular guy with an above-average talent.

These worlds finally came together when Corey opened the City of Ink Edgewood and wanted me to be the lead artist there. In time, a real brotherhood beyond just being coworkers grew. The team we had at Edgewood felt like we were starting something significant. 

Eventually, Corey approached me about starting an anthology comic. I had already been working on Loveless Cupid, and he had begun his story, Provider. Both pay homage to one of our favorite groups, N.E.R.D. 

The comic would lead to my first art show with Corey to celebrate the release of "Jambalaya Mixtape." From the show, I could push past my fears and see how to create hype and over-deliver. The successful experience let me see how Corey operated, and it was a masterclass in being an artist and businessman. All of a sudden, it all felt so human. I felt I could do it too. 

That success led to our comic convention tour. 

Oh boy, lol. To say the least, there were highs and lows. 

In short, while each stop was also successful, egos finally started to show themselves. As the more seasoned marketer, Corey did not appreciate my approach to selling, and I felt I could relate to our nerdy crowd better because I still embraced that part of myself and had grown from merely taking orders.

We both were leaders now. And the most minor things were causing rifts. After our third stop, it was evident that we saw things too differently. We were each other's shadow (the parts of ourselves we shunned in fear). 

Watching Corey need to be the loudest in the room represented my suppressed fear of being noticed, which could highlight my insecurities. Even with immense talent, I found comfort in not being noticed, and that was changing too rapidly to stay in the shadows like I had. 

On the flip side, Corey was faced with his fears of not mastering one thing. I had drawn comics for years, so my part of the comic was getting more fanfare from potential fans and publishers at the conventions. 

This did not sit well with Corey, who was a jack of all trades. By being good at many things, he increased his chances of being noticed, but he was faced with wondering how great he could be if he focused on one thing and pursued mastery like me. 

Our conflicting mentalities carried over back to the shop, and in the end, I didn't want to have anyone dictate my future anymore. It was his shop, so I had to be the one to leave. 

Our convo from when I left was anything but harsh. It was two friends understanding that we had built something good, and it was time to move on. 

Through the years, I'd see Corey. We'd always have nice things to say, even when his health waned. Some parts of me wondered if I had stayed, could I have prevented certain things from happening? I was the voice of reason in the shop, of course.

But that's not my burden. I'm just glad to see Corey at peace. When he couldn't be his former self (the superstar in the room), it was easy to see he wasn't as happy.

So, I thank him for pushing me and others to be our best by challenging us. The day I left the shop was when I could tell I earned his full respect, and he earned mine by understanding when someone had grown too big for his umbrella. We learned from each other, and that time at Edgewood meant the world to me. 

Today, I applied for my first solo comic convention tour and found that they saved our data from the last time we were there in 2018. It was trippy to see.

I get to carry on what we started. Thank you again for pushing me out of my comfort zone. 

I drew you in the comic because we have some unfinished business when it comes to chasing dreams, so you're a part of this ride. 

I won't forget the lessons you taught me. 

It's ok to be the main guy in the room. You just have to believe you are. 

And I finally do. 

Mel