Here’s some crap from early college. Mainly concentrating on technique more than content, although it seems I was partial to black lines on white paper form an early age. I remember being very proud of this at the time. I even made a couple more versions with different colors and textures and matted them all nicely on some black card stock with the careful use of spray adhesive. My narcissistic young self admired these works and thought them fit for framing at the time.
But now… Now, I kinda hate them. I look at the above image and what I see is all the excitement and raw content of the Sharpie craze and nose bleed trapped inside a kind of soulless technique. I know I was young and still learning but I can’t help but hate this. I fucking hate it. Those straight lines and unimaginative use of still life objects. Sure the contour lines on the leaves are nicely done but there’s absolutely no self-discovery going on here at all. Funny… this isn’t the first time I’ve been way too hard on myself for crimes committed in college. I know now that I needed help and encouragement at the time but I still have trouble fighting the impulse to blame myself.