Nothing is more frustrating than art trapped behind artless hands.
Imagine: A night sky, the kind you see out in the country when all the lights are out. Among the stars, a rose constellation with a galaxy at its center. It’s like scent burst into starlight.
Imagine: A geeky coat of arms. The quadrants include a controller from each major gaming system (one being a mouse, for computer gaming). All are drawn in the style of medieval book art, like those fancy letters and borders in bibles of the time.
Imagine: A bold woman cloaked in furs, her raven black hair pulled back with a leather thong. Against her side rests a bow, glinting silver under the moonlight. She looks up and away, and in the distance you see a wolf outlined on a cliff. It’s as if she hears his call across the night. She’s Artemis, a goddess full of power and wildness.
This is the life I lead. Sometimes, I get a wild hair up my ass and try to paint or draw something. The end results are almost always frustrating; I often quit halfway when I realize I can’t even begin to bring the image in my mind onto paper.