This drawing is unproportionate and there are stains on it.

I was driving back from Talkeetna, Alaska to Anchorage, Alaska when I saw this train stopped on the tracks just off the road. I quickly pulled off the road, parked my car, grabbed my sketchbook, and walked over to sketch it.

It was freezing outside so I just sketched a quick outline and then snapped a picture to use as reference to work from later. 

It wasn’t until I got about 1/2 way through this drawing that I realized the proportions were pretty distorted. The train ‘should be’ wider and it ‘should be’ shorter. 

I used to live in the laws of perfection. Be perfect, act perfect, and avoid all mistakes, even if that means doing nothing at all. Because doing nothing at all is safer than making a mistake. Doing nothing at all is better than making mistakes.

Living in this kind of world is full of fear, paralyzing fear. There’s no going back, no moving forward, and no grace in between. It’s not a fun place to be.

But that life is tiring. You can’t be perfect. You can’t force perfection. It’s suffocating.

In the eyes of perfection, this drawing is messed up. But it’s also pretty easy to pick something apart, when all you’re looking for is errors.

How is a drawing ‘supposed to look?’ How is a drawing ‘supposed to be?’ Because I’ve seen a lot of ‘perfect pictures’ that no one notices. It’s a lot like people. Ive seen a lot of ‘perfect people’ that ALL LOOK THE SAME.

There’s ink and there’s stains on this drawing. Much like life, I can’t erase what happens. It’s already there. It’s a part of this work. It’s a part of me. I actually like it too. I made something. It’s not perfect, but I put it out into the world. It pushed me forward. For that I’m proud.