You should be ashamed. 

This blog is dead you jerk.  

I came here to fuck bitches. 

Quick sketch. 

Five minutes.

I don’t know what the hell this is.

I’ve heard that the best way to make your art relative and meaningful is to make every stroke count. Every hash. Every dot. Every single detail must be given meaning. This has no meaning. Sometimes I feel as if my life is similar in that way. I’m not giving it meaning. I’m just another stroke of the pencil. There is no substance behind me, nor what I create. I want meaning. 

I’m always in awe at all the artists on tumblr. It’s like they have all this amazing knowledge and experience with anatomy and they have awesome techniques and a great sense of perspective and they have all these cool colouring tools and they have fancy drawing pads and they’re so good and then there’s me and all I have is a pencil and some paper and then I try to make stuff and then I’m just like 

Guys how do I art. 

I decided to practice foreshortening for the first time. Perspective is sort of a difficult concept for me to grasp, and considering that I suck at drawing hands foreshortening is practically a nightmare. With this though I have to say that it wasn’t too horrible this time through. 

Happy Mother’s Day everyone. 

I am so handsome. 

How about no. 

(Sorry this took so long and I apologize on how crappy it is. I haven’t slept in 40 hours and I’ve been really busy for the past couple days. I hope that’s alright.)