Somewhere in the middle of my elementary school years, I was leafing through one of my mother's Famous Artists volumes and stumbled upon The Persistence of Memory. My eyes moved across it with dread as its sinister furnishings revealed themselves. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. "Is that...? It can't be. Why is there...... Continue Reading →
Artist. (Narcissist, Sad-sack, Overgrown Child, Performative Mourner.)
It probably goes without saying that if you take yourself too seriously in middle school, you're gonna have a target on your back. If you're angsty and emotional - maybe most especially if you're angsty and emotional AND make art about it AND have the gall to show that art to people - you're gonna... Continue Reading →