Lately have simply been able to dismiss my inner critic. Good riddance to him! My whole life has been a struggle with that imaginary and sinister figure [Some art director, the nebulous public, another phantom artist?] who clasped his bony hands, peeped over my shoulder, and sneered at every drawing I worked on.
It's been a nice change, not to care even whether or not I myself like what I'm drawing. Right now, at this time, I'm done with all that fretting and perfectionism. Most of the pictures in my sketchbook please me not at all. But the process of drawing them does, and it's all that matters.
Like a vacation, it probably won't last. But while it does, I'm simply flooding pages and other surfaces with my scrawl. It's a pleasure, and it's a remarkable thing for my creativity and mental health. That creepy critic? Probably not dead, just banished to the basement or the crawl space--for now at least.
Just finished a new painting of a bird in a boat. I'll post it next.