So, being an artist is complete self-inflicted torture, it reminds me of a thought i heard about unrequited love, "..its like banging your head against a wall thats not really there." the frustration one feels is beyond my talent as a writer to describe, its wholly disintegrative of one's self esteem. i am unsure if the frustration is a result of doubt or its the reverse. but those two are as thick as thieves in the ebb.
i drew and colored this goblin image yesterday and already i completely dislike it, i am tempted to erase it, but then half of this post title wouldn't make sense. its hard to understand this mentality, like you are always on the cusp of the flow. so near the breakthrough, you just can't wait. as an artist you constantly have these little blocks and breakthroughs, you think i would be used to it, but i doubt one ever gets used to it. no wonder why van gogh ate his paint.
