I was looking at some of my older (and best forgotten) images and I realized how much I sucked at painting when I was still new at it and I didn’t even know it really – because I was trying so hard to get it right all the time. And I remember suffering and struggling and loving every minute of my pain. I’m uploading a really bad one in which I tried to be Superman.
Now really – what was I thinking? But I feel a weird sort of empathy for this sad attempt and for my younger self. I remember I had to make twenty five self portraits in two weeks and I was in deep shit at the time but that is NOT an excuse for being so lame. However, there are good things in there and the (former) super-me is so sad that I must forgive her(me) and let bygones be bygones.