I am just basically in love with painting.
It doesn’t really matter to me that I can’t ever seem to achieve perfection with what I want to make. I love the act of painting. I love the whole process even before picking up a pencil. Reorganizing and cleaning the supplies, choosing the paper, having to run all over the house to find everything I need. Though, like I said, I can’t get it perfect, I think I do well enough in demonstrating what comes out of my head onto paper and being satisfied with it. I like seeing the brand new sheets of paper, ready to be held in contorted positions and marked with pen and watercolour. I don’t know why I started, but I tend to stop sometimes so I don’t waste paper and I wish I didn’t. I love painting more than nearly anything, save maybe reading and writing. There’s something completely satisfying knowing you’re the only person who can make this picture, no one else can come up with the exact same thing in the same order that you can. I encourage everybody to paint, because even the simplest paintings show a part of themselves that most people hide.
