Day 1
Anticipation, eagerness, anxiety, these emotions stirred as I began the process of an ineluctable process know as “watercolor”. I traced my drawing from my computer, scaled a 5″ x 7″ portrait, using three simple watercolor pencils, red, blue, and yellow. Intertwining several colors to reach a balance of the spectrum, to please the eye, such as making green and purple from these pencils. Creating color harmony, this watercolor was to be a piece of art that is to be recognized.
Day 2
Doomed, devastated, cursed, que sera sera, and other words from dictionary.com under doomed. This drawing amazed me when I was drawing it, colors coming out good, lines even, shapes in place. Then I added a “light-effect” seeing that it would come out even better. I waited the next day and saw this, the white light betrayed me, it mutilated my piece. My first true piece. I enjoyed the very sight of my artwork, the day earlier, but time soothes all wounds. I was betrayed by time itself, it drenched itself into my drawing excavating all my pride and taking it all away. I abhorred the drawing utensils, the paints, the paper, the art. Although, I created this abomination, I knew I could create the glorified.
Judgement Day
Today, I stand proud next to my drawing. Astonished by the relic of art, I knew all along this drawing was to become a “piece”. The vivid colors, the laud sight, this watercolor was not redone, not refurbished, but relived. Putting in time and effort to undo the agony, I bore art. I believe this drawing is one of the good ones I have going on. But knowing all of this, I do not like it. I am proud that I made art. But dishonored because I could have done better.
