Drawliver is somewhat elusive, prolific and extremely nice. He doesn’t talk about himself much, only that he’s 19, non-binary (they/them or he/him pronouns) and that he’s somewhere out there in Florida. What he won't tell you is that he's extremely popular, or that when you’re linked to his page there’s a sense - unfamiliar to brains fried under the 24/7 compulsory assault of digital marketing - that you’re actually being shown something worth your time. Something special.
He draws a lot, fast, constantly. Hundreds of tender, funny, sometimes erotic and weird images daily populate his page as it unfolds endlessly towards the footer in what feels like a digital tapestry. They seem strangely close - maybe because he draws/edits only (!) on his phone, the format is always-already optimized for our screens, our attention spans, our dissociative coping patterns, our habit of laughing at something serious without smiling before scrolling past.
No two images are alike: characters and themes peek in, linger, sharply drop out, reassemble, re-merge, revisit. Dogs, bunnies, teenagers leaking out their guts, Digimon-esque dragons and chimeras work peak through dense layers of broken up fantasy lore, poke their heads through bits of sad horoscopes and cheery allusions to a kind of gay futuro-satanism. His light, vivid doodles set up sophisticated thought experiments about the nature of perception, the physics of vision, the limits of language. It’s internet art at its best: light and escapist but always clever and experimental, and even at its simplest (black handwriting on a white background) - saturated with feeling. The unapologetic aura of longing for childhood is shot through with the sharp and painful awareness that time can never be turned back. A talented adult at the zenith of his artistic career, he’s captured the eyes of thousands but - 'I still always goof up small stuff’ - he writes, citing unglamorous problems with processing and interaction familiar to many autistic people. Conflicting affects - closeness and mistrust, connectedness and aloneness, the joy of immersion, the bitterness of rejection - make for a special tension that holds his images together, making even the smallest scribble feel coherent and truthful.
You are welcome to visit Drawliver’s Facebook page and commission custom merch (mugs, t-shirts and posters) of any of his other work.