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Two children ignoring the artwork at the San Francisco Museum of Art. ca. 1960s

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'Broken Tablet' is a game where one artist draws an artwork, then blurs it and sends the blurred image to the next artist, who draws what they see. And here’s what we’ve got!

Here's a short post with my thoughts on the project's organization and progress. Thanks to all the participants for their wonderful work!

The participants in order:

Fonserel (Tumblr, Twitter, Telegram channel)

JackAl ( - )

Lutyashka (Tumblr, Twitter)

Dani (Tumblr)

Griddle ( - )

Gemini (Tumblr)

Toooceanblue (Tumblr, Instagram)

Kadzu (Tumblr, Bluesky, Twitter)

Poster (Tumblr, Instagram)

Undermoon walker (Tumblr, Telegram channel)

Lookserratic (Tumblr)

Squonk (Tumblr)

Portulaca (Tumblr)

Livmor (Tumblr)

Karakuliii (Tumblr, Telegram channel)

Bespoke horror (Tumblr)

For Ilya, he was raised in a house where there was a specific shape he was expected to fit into and I truly believe that he was always too big for that. He laughed too loudly, he moved too much, he felt too intensely, he cried too freely. He did not fit the ideals of what it means to be manly. He was unable to be what was seen as "well behaved" but it wasn't for a lack of trying. His worth has always been merit based; affection has always been conditional on his performance. Even his mother, through I believe she loved him deeply and tried her hardest, was barely even present some days; so lost in her own mind that Ilya had to shrink himself because she simply didn't have room to take on more. He learned to be gentle with his mother. To be hard on the ice. To be quiet when his father was near. To be what was required of him and never more than that. Even later in life, he is only that which he can provide. He provides victories to his team, temporary pleasure to his various partners, funds to his family. Everyone always wants more from him. He hollows himself out to be a tool rather than a person.

Shane, though he was raised on love, has never had room to exist freely as himself outside of his home. He learned early on that people's patience wore thin when he revealed too much of himself. His instincts never seemed right. What most people seemed to intrinsically know, he had to be taught. The only place where he could trust his instincts was on the ice but even that necessitated learning to exist in spaces where he was not welcome. Where his race marked him as an outsider, where his talent made him a threat, where his behaviour didn't fit the mould. He learned how to minimise the danger, how to disguise his deficiencies. His mother contributed to that, though she loved him dearly and wanted only what was best for him, her own fear, her own experiences with prejudice, her own ambition guided him to learn to exist in these spaces - to achieve excellence - but it came at a price. He has never been allowed to just be. Even later in life he has to cut away the parts of himself that don't fit the "role model" image that has been thrust upon him. He can't let any cracks show. Performance over humanity. The image comes first, the person comes second.