I actually gave up on this art. I did it, I finished it, I over worked it. I over worked it some more. I toiled. I strifed. For hours I squinted and sighed. And then, ashamed and dismayed, I put it away, out of my sight. I came back to it a day later, grimacing and deciding that because it was already fucked up no harm in fucking it up all the more. So less fearfully I scratched more contrast into its tired fibers and when I pulled it back I said, "It's less terrible now than it ever has been previously! I think it's done!" And sometimes that's what art is. Scratching into your medium desperately like your trying to hold onto the ledge of a cliff you yell at the art, "Do something!!!" So sometimes you gotta let go and fall to your death (fitting, no?) and crawl back up the mountain and take another look and kick a stone and say "Fine. I give you up and cast you into the ethers and accept what you are and am done." Am I happy with this drawing? Not completely, no. But it's full of learning and emotion. And I think that's satisfying, at least.
