This sketch I did, seven years ago. It's a bit shocking how long it's been since some of the characters and scraps of a story have been drifting in my mind. Scary.
I really like the mood of this one. I'm still trying, to figure out how to draw to tell a story- to express a feeling, to say something. The thing I've understood recently is that it's by doing it that it happens and nothing more. It's like how you look like- you might not like it, but you still better go and experience the world in that skin than stay home. Style, pretty much the same. Obsessing over how "not good" it looks is like staring at it from a glassy distance, not actually engaging with what you already are doing, what you have the ability to do: drawing, create. I draw with a hitch, not in the flowing, expert-looking way many artists do; but no matter how clumsily, the distance I walk is what matters. Somehow I didn't stop, and sometimes now, I can feel things through it.