I've been considering it lately: In light of the fact most of my life is a foggy blur when it comes to reminiscing, my drawings and doodles in particular might be good road maps for my emotions at any given time. Not that that's their purpose, but it's a ulterior function they could possess, hm?
Like this one. This was a reflection on my strong and fucking OLD desire to visit Disneyland. Got grotesque only purely because, uh, that's how I draw. I suppose my subconscious anxieties about going to Los Angeles are present here too, though.
Was thinking about images of ripping, or morphing like clay through the frustrating inability to express myself otherwise.
And finally, letting a little boy's fragmented grasp reality affect me way too much.
BORING POST, HA HA.