“All art is communication of the artist’s ideas, sounds, thoughts; without that no one will support the artist.” — Lionel Hampton
Since the inception of the Arts section, we have written extensively about works of art. Through what we process, see, hear — all of these elements of all of these works have been dissected endlessly by our writers in order to bring you the finest we have in arts criticism. Before there were arts, however, there were the artists. These individuals put pens to paper, frames to film, stanzas to song, all in an effort to be understood. Here at the Arts section, we hear them. From the arts we appreciate, this series centers on the artists we adore: the individuals we’re inspired by.
I’ve never really had any heroes. For some people, it’s their dad or Danny DeVito or themself, but I never thought it was a good idea to put that much stock in one person. There were people that inspired me, sure, but I can’t recall a time when I looked at a solitary person and thought, “Yeah, I want to copy their life trajectory.”
Then, about four years ago, toward the end of my freshman year, I ran across screenshots of a lanky man in a suit with an elaborate array of Sonic the Hedgehog details, á la the Pepe Silvia conspiracy, pinned to the wall behind him and captions like “Either Sonic is a god or could kill God, and I do not care if there is a difference!” running across the bottom of the screen. Was this oddly well-dressed young man immediately my hero? No. But I was intrigued by him and his hot Sonic takes.
After a brief deep dive into this strange, loud man, I found his name, Brian David Gilbert. I also found where the screenshots had come from: the “Unraveled” video essay series for the entertainment website Polygon, which Gilbert hosted. Each video introduced and analyzed a different video game and a piece of its culture with “absurd specificity,” incredible amounts of research and simultaneously intelligent and ridiculous acting. I have a long history of existing on the fringes of gaming, of consuming video game knowledge and culture without much hands-on experience, so “Unraveled” catered perfectly to my pre-existing interests and obsessions. And, as a creative writing major with a drama minor and a tendency toward absurdity, Gilbert’s highly literary and performative video essays drew my interest in a way nothing had in years. I would go so far as to say that “Unraveled” videos affected me in the same way novels did as a child — they were undiscovered territory, something that inspired and excited me deeply and, above all, something that I felt I could be a part of.
What was even more surprising was that “Unraveled” was actually considered journalism. Brian David Gilbert was, for all intents and purposes, a journalist with a camera, a budget and a lot of free time. It wasn’t long before I let myself be consumed by media and games journalism. I spent much of the end of my freshman year and the beginning of the pandemic watching Gilbert and exploring the rest of Polygon’s content. The more I lost myself in this content, the more I couldn’t believe that people could write funny articles or make absurd videos about video games, internet culture and entertainment at large for a living. I have always been both a writer and a deeply analytical person, and it seemed to me that Gilbert represented the perfect intersection of these two traits. I suddenly felt that he presented a path different from the literary ambitions I’ve had since childhood — I could combine my writing, my media interests and my theatrics to maybe, possibly, become a journalist like Gilbert. But where does a girl with no journalistic experience start?
After leaving another student organization at the end of my sophomore year, I heard about The Michigan Daily Arts section through my friend and former Managing Arts Editor, Elise Godfryd. I thought to myself, yeah, I can write, I like art and I have a lot of opinions about it — so why not? And, to my very pleasant surprise, Arts had a fledgling Digital Culture section. Upon browsing, it seemed like this section produced the kind of content that I had been consuming and wanting to create for the past year. So I applied with an article about how good video game movies are impossible and, somehow, some way, I got hired. When I first met my former editor, Mik Deitz, they informed me that they hadn’t intended to hire anyone that round, but had liked my voice in my application so much that they decided to take me on. Call it what you like, but I can’t help but believe that that was divine intervention at its finest.
Because, almost two years later, I’ve decided that I want to do this forever. Sure, I still want to write that novel and publish that poetry book, but this absurdist journalism, this Brian David Gilbert-esque joy over “things that have very little meaning” can’t be matched for me. This work and the people that do it with me, that share in this joy with me, have become essential to who I am and my life trajectory. In fact, up until about two months ago, I thought I wanted to go to graduate school for creative writing, but one lanky man on the internet and one college newspaper have so essentially changed me that I want to abandon my old ambitions and give professional, silly journalism a try — at least for a while.
In December 2020, Gilbert made his last “Unraveled” video and left Polygon. It was, in a parasocial way, devastating. But he didn’t disappear altogether — he continued to make content on his personal channel about cutting his hair and teaching his son how to use a camcorder. Gilbert’s videos remain intricate and theatrical, and I continue to follow his work despite its deviation from the journalistic style I had originally followed him for. He continues to inspire me as a writer and a creative, and he introduced me to Polygon, which still serves as a workplace and culture I aspire to insert myself into.
As I prepare to leave The Daily, I realize that by just being here, I have inserted myself into this culture. I became a part of something bigger than me — a part of an incredible community of journalists who treat their artistic work and opinions with immense curiosity and intensity. Brian David Gilbert led me to this place, and this place led me to my life. After a pandemic The Daily gave me my passion back, and it gave it to me for the foreseeable future. I may not know what’s coming next anymore, but I do know that, like I followed Gilbert, I will continue to follow The Daily. I will continue to credit both with offering me a new life path. And I will continue to credit Brian David Gilbert for being my first hero.
Daily Arts Writer Maddie Agne can be reached at maagne@umich.edu.