In February, my dad challenged me to see faces in things, which I have often done. Alas, this month, zero inspiration came. And so I forced myself to stare at the floor and blankets and trees until I continued to see nothing.
I’d like to say “and then I glanced over and saw this squishy face in my banana slice and all was merry and gleeful,” but that would be a lie.
I did, however, see this face. And I did, however, draw it. I was neither gleeful or merry in finding or drawing it. It did get drawn, though, and mailed off in what has become a burden of a sketchbook challenge. I hadn’t anticipated hating everything my dad asked me to do.
Who knew my childhood and teen years would be a template for lifelong “ugh, seriously?”
No Ordinary Notes 