Picasso and Pollock could no longer contain their impatience. They swept Amy off her feet, mussed up Mrs. Whittle's mums, crashed through Mr. Brickmeyers fence and landed with a thud in Mrs Baumhoffer's laundry. Amy was going to hear about this.
Ever have one of those days... not 30 minutes ago, I was painting and wiping away tears because I just can't get what's in my mind colorwise to come together and appear on paper. The sheer frustration has me doubting my ability to ever breakthrough in this industry. I usually am a huge fan of the quote "the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best" but I tell you. I look at the work of my fellow illustrators and friends, and honestly, their talent is blinding. Then I look at mine, and think who am I kidding. Seriously. Ugh.