There are pieces I made when I was wide open. Vulnerable. In love, or in pain, or somewhere in between. Drawings where I wasn’t just capturing someone else, but also trying to hold onto a moment that mattered — deeply. There was a sense of urgency, of not wanting the magic to fade. I’d post quickly, before I had time to second-guess. Sometimes it was reckless. Sometimes it was exactly right.
And I look back at some of those works now and wonder:
Was that the truest art I’ve ever made?
Because it felt like everything was at stake.
These days I try to work with more clarity. I give drawings time. I step back, come back later, let them breathe. I try to stay in touch with what I want — not just what I think will be well received. And still, I sometimes wonder:
Is this me now? Or just a more polished version?
I don’t think I have a final answer. But I’m learning to believe that both sides belong:
- The raw, urgent works born out of vulnerability.
- And the quiet, steady ones made from a deeper self-trust.
If you’ve ever felt this split — like your “best” work came from a place you’re not sure you can (or want to) return to — you’re not alone. I think many of us wrestle with that.
But maybe it’s not about choosing one or the other.
Maybe the real art comes when we learn to carry both.
