I hate being told what to do, with a passion. I’ve been stubborn that way.
Won’t. Won’t. Won’t. You can’t make me!
When I was little, I’d scribble all over my notebooks. On the walls. I’d draw people, matchstick men in baseball hats and women in skirts, a tiny artist already.
Unfortunately, I can’t draw very well. Go figure. My parents got me an art tutor, an ancient guy, with wispy snowy hair barely concealing his shiny bald egg of a head. He was really nice and patient and he tried to teach me how to do landscapes, insisting I learn those first, before trying to draw people.
I couldn’t be bothered.
I was a pre-teen when Avril Lavigne’s album Let Go came out. I was fascinated with her music for a while, and I was amazed at what a sharp profile she had.
And then, I taught myself to draw the human nose. I’d been drawing eyes, compulsively, on the back of my ruled, and then plain, notebooks for years already. The lips were the hardest. Till date I can’t draw a person grinning. I find doing the teeth hard.
And I never draw anything below the neck because I can’t. Hahaha. Not that I haven’t tried.
I was supposed to study surgery today, but I ended up doing this.
Maybe I’m obsessed with drawing cardboard-y people with overdone eyes because I’m insecure about my own? I don’t know. It’s just something that makes me happy.
What do you think?