art.

I guess I never really talk about my art which is kind of bizarre because it is such a significant part of me. It is indefinitely, inseparably, undeniably a large piece to the never ending puzzle of my soul. I cannot deny that I am extremely critical of it, but as of late, very much less so. I don't really see the value in critiquing my art so harshly I can rarely ever enjoy what it really is--an opening of my heart. I am trying a new goal--as of today, June 6th, 2016--to draw every single day. It can be a scratch on a crumpled napkin, a dump of ink on a scrap of post-it-note, an actual sketch in my sketchbook or a fullblown work of art! The details of what it is doesn't really matter, what matters is where it is coming from. Is it art? Is it practice? It doesn't matter if it doesn't come from the heart. So I will scrawl, scratch, dump, press and practice the pen across the paper, every moment getting better when I do so and every moment opening a corner of my heart like a turning page. That is most important. Truly, truly. 
-k.p.
est. June 6, 2016
3:12PM
Monday

My "smile" for the love of art.
September 2015