Every time I come across Chris Ware's work, I fall in love with it all over again. If you don't know his work, Ware is a brilliant comic artist whose ability to render even the most complicated things simply gives his work a rare elegance. His cover for the New Yorker, pictured above, is evidence of this. Ware is also an incredibly talented hand-letterer and his work is heart-breakingly beautiful in its writing and execution.
Ware's piece for the New Yorker is particularly timely for me. I was rooting through a sketchbook recently, and came across a page where I'd obviously been having a Bad Drawing Day and had written a note to myself: