Growing up as a depressed child, I locked myself in my world where I can just sketch my wishes and express my gentle side that I barely show to others. Perhaps there was still a small light left in my dark childhood since I had rarely sketched anything that illustrates my loneliness and heartaches. I sometimes envy those artists who are aficionados of expressing themselves in a much bolder art forms, sculpting odd shapes and using different mediums. Like painters who are masters of blending vibrant colours that brings more life to their art works. On the contrary, my artistic side depicts my way of assuaging myself, and so I keep it just black and white.
Sketching portraits that represents only the gray shades of my simplified introspection is all it is. Many of those who have seen my art works had wondered why I often sketch male portraits than women, and ironically it causes them to question my sexual nature or regard it as an appearance of my sexual perversions. Somehow, it does not offend me, not even once, having an artist’s block for 6 years, how else should I have to respond? Probably I just care less and I’m too lazy to explain myself. Apparently, all I have in my mind is when I draw it’s my heart that dictates my hand and my mind forms the picture. For the sake of giving people the answer, I always respond with my dry sarcasm
I’ll leave it to you the construe of that statement 🙂