Where Your Money Goes Matters:
Choosing Artists Over Autographs
This year at the Philadelphia Fan Expo, I made a conscious decision: I skipped the long lines and high prices at the celebrity booths and instead spent my time—and my money—in Artist Alley. It wasn’t just a preference. It was a shift in values.
I didn’t want to drop $250 to $300 on an autograph from Mel Gibson to help cover the cost of fuel for his private jet. Nor did I feel the need to support John Cena’s already-massive empire or help John Carpenter pad his legendary bank account. These are names we all know. They’re doing fine. They don’t need my money. But in Artist Alley, I found creators who did. Artists and writers who still hustle for every sale, who light up when someone shows genuine interest in their work, who remember the names and faces of their fans.
That’s where the magic was.
Sure, not every experience was perfect. I was excited to meet Rodney Barnes, the writer of Killadelphia, a book I’d followed on Instagram and had long been curious about. But when I approached his table, he never once looked up from his phone. His handler was friendly enough, but Rodney barely acknowledged me. I assumed he was waiting until I picked a book before engaging. I was wrong. When I chose a copy of the first trade, I realized it had been pre-signed. He mumbled a thank you and returned to scrolling.
I walked away with the book but not the feeling I’d hoped for.
Still, I try to give grace. Maybe he was dealing with something serious. Maybe there was an emergency. But it didn’t seem that way. He didn’t look stressed. He looked bored. And in that moment, I questioned if I had just funded someone who had no interest in connecting with the very readers who support him. I don’t regret supporting the artists and team behind the comic, but I can say this: I won’t be picking up another book from Rodney Barnes anytime soon
.But not all stories from Artist Alley ended on that note. Let me tell you about Javon Stokes from Visually Stoked Media.
Javon didn’t just sell me a comic—he shared a piece of his heart. I picked up his one-shot STRONG, a tale about an enhanced vigilante trying to do good in a chaotic world. It’s a story about strength, friendship, and finding your place—perfect for fans of Wonder Woman and Supergirl. But what struck me most wasn’t the pitch. It was Javon himself. His energy was infectious. He was proud of his work, eager to share, and genuinely excited to meet each reader. When I bought his comic, he asked to take a picture of me holding it. That’s the kind of interaction you never forget.
I left his table feeling like I’d made someone’s day. And truthfully? That feeling made my day too.
I met several other creators that weekend. Some well-known, some just starting out. But they all had something in common: gratitude. They treated every interaction like it mattered—because it did.
In 2025, I find myself gravitating toward the “little guy.” Maybe it’s wisdom. Maybe i’m working on my karma capital, hoping people will support my art. Maybe I just want to live in a world where artists are rewarded. I want to see a shift at conventions. A quiet revolution. One where we stop throwing hundreds at celebrities and instead champion the artists fighting to be seen. Imagine if even half the money spent on celeb autographs went toward the creators in Artist Alley. Imagine what that could do for their careers. Their lives.
We say we love indie creators. Let’s show it with our money, our time, and our attention.
Because where your money goes—it speaks. Let it say something that matters.
Take it easy,
James