What do my drawings say about me?  They are all symmetry obsessed and almost the entire collection to date is unfinished.  I start, get distracted, move on, content with the beginning, with the promise of a pretty product.  Really I am afraid to continue because I do not want to fuck it up.  I have to be in the mood for perfection, and the mood doesn’t strike all that often.  If its not going to be flawless then mind as well leave it, its good enough.  Does any of this make sense?  Its a bit laziness, a dusty muse, the fear of failure, the strive for self praise.

Why I am obsessed with a delicate balance of thin black lines dancing on an off-white sheet?  Why do I find their movements so mesmerizing?  I find a strange serenity in their beautiful agreement, in their simplicity in the need not to argue or demand space.  The dance starts simple as a drum beat, the arrangement soothing.

Do they have to be so balanced because I am so crooked?  Am I overcompensating? And is that a bad thing? It usually is.  Overcompensating.  Making up for something lacked in an area in which you seemingly have no control.  It’s my souls plea to have a better house, one that does lean quite so much.  I try to console her, saying that it makes the building unique, noticeable, and memorable.  A discontent soul, that one.  A prince could build her a palace and she would say too big, a waste of space, not enough pools.  An artist could build her a bungalow, and she would say too quaint, too excluded from society, bad acoustics.  She should be happy with the nest in the crooked tree.  If that was the case, I would be a better painter.