Dang, but these are some super-fossilized old drawings, from back when my sketchbooks were full of endless, pointless cross-hatching (it’s almost as if I thought ink and the money to buy ink grew on some sort of tree or something, which I now know is 100% not the case). Also, I was looking at a lot of molas and books about molas, and sort of half-assed collecting ‘em, too, until nowadays I’ve got one on nearly every wall, which is a way better thing to have hanging around than any number of plasma screens. Ruined me for doing perspective, though. I mean, I used to do it, way back in the jurassic, even had to do it on jobs, now and then, especially on jobs that involved drawing all kinds of weird experimental gadgets, but I suppose now my error-prone eyes are only good for cave painting and maybe ecstatic prophecy art, if I was into that sort of thing, which, for better or worse, I’m not. Anyway, it’s funny some kid on an island off Panama’s got a better hand at this stuff than I’ll ever have. But, you know, not at all funny in a bad way.
I just vaguely remembered: one of my crusty backwater professors used to always get on my ass about doing “regional funk” instead of Deeply Serious Theoretical Art. Which, I’m massively glad to be far, far away from all of that kind of talk, ’cause regional funk’s way more what I care about in my heart and soul and bones and wherever else it is that people harbor feelings and opinions.
