Matthew C. de Souza

Matthew C. de Souza, a lamentably corporeal entity, stumbles through existence brandishing a creative legacy that, at its most charitable, could only be described as an impending disaster. His fundamental ineptitude with a pencil, which he unhesitatingly labels "dreadful," merely serves as a grim foreword to the ensuing horrors.

He once plunged headlong into the murky depths of comics, spewing forth graphic abominations so utterly ghastly that the very notion of owning a copy was vehemently renounced. "Appalling," he declared, an understatement that barely scrapes the surface of the aesthetic calamity. The zenith of his "talent" culminates in a 459-page PDF – a veritable visual affront, a monument to creative vacuity, wherein a nonsensical string of characters is regurgitated relentlessly, page after wretched page. This isn't art; it's the digital evidence of a complete breakdown.

Matthew C. de Souza is not an artist; he is a stark warning. A tangible reminder that not every creative impulse warrants encouragement, and that, on occasion, an individual's most significant contribution lies in their brutal honesty about their own woeful lack of aptitude. Let his oeuvre stand as the definitive anti-example.