Found a self-portrait I did in 2019 while clearing out storage. Before I had any idea what I was doing, before I'd even touched oil. Just charcoal and sheer desperation. It's rough as hell, the anatomy is all wrong, but I keep staring at it because the eyes are honest in a way I can't fake now. I've gotten so much "better" and I'm not sure better is the same thing as truer. Been thinking about that all day. Do I still paint like the person who made that? I honestly don't know and it's kind of eating at me.
