A question every artist has to ask whenever they produce work. Who am I as an artist? What story do I want to tell? What are the images I want to produce?
Maybe that's why artists can seem so full of themselves. Also, artists are full of themselves.
This question follows every artist from the outset of their design until the final brushstrokes on their signature. Who do I want to be known as? Some artists have pen names, some use initials: C.F. Payne, N.C. Wyeth, Bansky, Android Jones, the list goes on.
I love artists like John Singer Sargent and John William Waterhouse, but I've always thought that the three name handle was a little... snooty. Which works fine for them because, beyond their general awesomeness, they're... you know... snooty. Or English, which is basically the same thing.
My name is David Hovey, and my full name is David Robert Hovey. I didn't want to be known as David Robert Hovey. I'm not English, and I try my best not to be snooty (unless the crumpets are absolutely dah-ling). So why do I sign my work DRH and all of my everything online is David Robert Hovey?
It's all just a misunderstanding. See, there's already an architect out there named David Hovey, and he has splattered his name unceremoniously across the inter-webs. So, when it came time for me to pick a url that wasn't taken, I simply typed in my full name.
My signature is a 'D' followed by a scribble, and an 'H' followed by a scribble. I have all the flitting, orchestrated penmanship of a doctor filling out prescriptions. So, in lieu of finishing my masterworks with a children's crayon scribble, I opted for the initials.
By that time, I just gave up on being known professionally as just 'David Hovey' and made all of my other sites and emails match. I've come to terms with it.
Who am I, then? If I'm knighted, or become the Earl of Crumpet Manor or something, you can call me your Lordship David Robert Hovey. For now, just your Lordship will do.