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Sitting here listening to music and once again doing endless excercises I feel a great sense of futility. I mean, I know these things take time, maybe. I know I could be braver in my studies and try to get some legitimate art knowledge down. I know I'd lose all sense of fun but probably improve a bit over time. I don't say it's impossible to get better, I just think it's naive for me to think that way.
I believe talent exists. There's the simple fact that some people are just kickass at what they do, and I know I'll always be in the regular ranks of people, no matter how much I push myself ther'll be no final peak I'll reach and say 'I did it. I finally made it to being a great artist/writer'. I know my lot in life, that's not where I'll end up. All I have to do is just look at the grass on the side of the road and try to find meaning and excitement in that like I used to. The moon and the stars are territories for others to conquer, and Godspeed to all those who reach those heights.
Because it's exhausting, always waiting for things to click. It's naive to think that all the things in the world trying to kill me won't finally get their chance and stop me in my track. I'd rather have wistful regret about not attaining excellence than regretting not tackling the projects that I wanted to do while I wanted to.
Apathy would be a great feeling right now. An empty feeling would be a solace. But I feel anger, and frustration at my abilities. I WANTED this . I wanted the awesome artwork. I wanted to tell stories along with amazingly painted vistas to accompany them. Even if it weren't the top, I'd be in the top club, the one which is universally accepted as 'You're a good artist, and writer' minus all the fact that some people are just really kind and won't say you're art is shit to your face (not that i'd like people to be honest about that)
It's the festive season, isn't it? I guess I've got to get into the mood, but other than that I've cast my lot, made my bed, and set up my shabby camp. I'll try to find the riches in the little that I can manage to do, and be content with the fact that I got as much of the things I wanted to express out of me while I still could.
Here's to enough tomorrows for me to achieve that.
I believe talent exists. There's the simple fact that some people are just kickass at what they do, and I know I'll always be in the regular ranks of people, no matter how much I push myself ther'll be no final peak I'll reach and say 'I did it. I finally made it to being a great artist/writer'. I know my lot in life, that's not where I'll end up. All I have to do is just look at the grass on the side of the road and try to find meaning and excitement in that like I used to. The moon and the stars are territories for others to conquer, and Godspeed to all those who reach those heights.
Because it's exhausting, always waiting for things to click. It's naive to think that all the things in the world trying to kill me won't finally get their chance and stop me in my track. I'd rather have wistful regret about not attaining excellence than regretting not tackling the projects that I wanted to do while I wanted to.
Apathy would be a great feeling right now. An empty feeling would be a solace. But I feel anger, and frustration at my abilities. I WANTED this . I wanted the awesome artwork. I wanted to tell stories along with amazingly painted vistas to accompany them. Even if it weren't the top, I'd be in the top club, the one which is universally accepted as 'You're a good artist, and writer' minus all the fact that some people are just really kind and won't say you're art is shit to your face (not that i'd like people to be honest about that)
It's the festive season, isn't it? I guess I've got to get into the mood, but other than that I've cast my lot, made my bed, and set up my shabby camp. I'll try to find the riches in the little that I can manage to do, and be content with the fact that I got as much of the things I wanted to express out of me while I still could.
Here's to enough tomorrows for me to achieve that.
1000 Hands
1000 Hands
So this is it. I am here at last at this humble hill of self imposed drawing madness, and I'm so damn proud that I could reach this.
I'm always trying to improve in art in general, I always am trying to get better at everything and anything, but I've gotten a bit fatalistic about the whole process. I keep on feeling that there is no true way to learn anything new, that there's really only the stuff you pick up over time and there's no way you can consciously advance a step forward in a direction you want to go. Things just sort of sort themselves out and there's no point in stressing yourself over it, or bothering about it. The b
10,000 Stick Figures
I drew 10,000 stick figures.
It took me 45 days, but goodness, I finally hit the milestone, and it's quite appropriate that there is no appropriate in how sudden and unexplosive it was to cross the finish line. Almost poetic.
Suffering yet another drought of art, where I had no will to learn or to draw anything really - Especially when it came to my comic projects - and where I felt no drive to even write, I was once again in that endless spiral of despair of having distinct wishes to be able to draw like so and so - to at least have some sort of finished project, to be a master of a certain fundamental. I have the ebooks, I have the youtub
01.02.2017
Greetings, Journal, it has been a while.
Guh, so much to talk about, so little time and space.
Let me just say: Epiphanies are great! While they come, in their rare moments.
I have a sudden craving for Sushi.
Let's get to the arting thing, eh?
27.11.2016 - The Journey Continues
The day keeps on turning, the seasons keep on turning, and it has been too long since I just felt great about the whole art process in general, and I doubt I'll feel it again, but I'll sure as hell keep at it.
I miss making art for the smallest reasons, I miss making it for the biggest reasons. I miss being inspired by the drawings and paintings I see from all across the board, no matter how many people like them or not. I miss that optimistic fool.
I'll never be that person again, but I sure as hell will try to reach out more, to draw more, to train more. To get back into the process.
Long story short, the process continues.
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