falling

I have a tendency to blame everything bad that happens on the fact that I wasn't trying, because only people who try are vulnerable to failure. The rest of us were apathetic all along, so what significance would succeeding or failing hold on our lives in the grand scheme of things (which we aren't certain about since not-trying leads to no ambition)? I don't know, I have some messed up philosophy. There is one thing I really care about right now, and am trying very hard at. I don't know how I'll accept my inevitable failure, because the odds are pretty against me. Oh here goes my pessimism, though I wouldn't really call it that, I'm just being realistic. I think.



Apathy and pessimism aside, here's another something I finished the other day. Started it about a month ago and realised how horrifically ugly it looked and stopped. But it's irritating to see it lying around half finished, so I spent the better half of Sunday afternoon trying to make something of it. Finished product is not my style at all, but I guess I must've felt angry or something. Well, splattering the ink by blowing on it did leave me a bit breathless and dizzy.

watercolour, gouache, ink and fineliners on watercolour paper. about 40 x 120 cm