I think we are lost...
Acrylic on Canvas board, 2015.
I know I'm not supposed to say this, but I'm fond of my early work.
There is undoubtedly no shortage of people who will critique with vitriol, and likely tell me to kill myself.
But I don't really care about that, on account that I am already dead inside.
But here's a question: At what point is someone expected to stop doing things because another someone finds a reason to hate anything and anyone?
Are we too sensitive?
I'm not sure.
I am way too sensitive.
I can lose grip on my identity: everything that defines me as a person living on earth...because I "may have" been socially awkward toward the cashier at the grocery store.
Is that true of most people?
Does <anyone>, have <anything> to say about that?
I truly claim to be interested...