I have a recent bug up my ass about my inability to draw things, only when I think about it, I realize that this is a recurrent bug that I've felt since I was a small child. In fact, the more I go through the things I have drawn in the past decade of my life, the more I am aware that I have not made any progress, but I just forget what happened the last time this gnawed at me and approach each phase of renewed effort at drawing as if I am doing it for the first time.

The first time I was asked by my parents to contribute to my grandmother's birthday card, I stated intent to draw a horse. After a few months of horseback riding lessons and spending a significant amount of my socialization with the canonical pod of little girls who draw horses, I thought this was a service I could perform. I don't know if it was that the mail system has ever truly been so undependable or if it was an effect of my parents' raging paranoia, but this was a card that we could guarantee delivery because it would be personally handled by a visiting uncle.

I recall an argument that involved my parents trying to convince me not to draw a horse, since at least one of my cousins was known to be a far more accomplished childhood doodler than I, and they worried that my horse would not look as good next to hers. I was beyond the age when ugly scribbles were considered cute, but not yet at an age where I had a firm enough grasp on things like perspective, line weight, and self-respect.

Ultimately, I don't remember if I drew a horse, or if I just filled the blank space allotted to me with flowers and badly-written Chinese. I have not tried to draw horses since that period of my life.

09 March 2014 17:14

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