Garbled voices are speaking to me. I am trying to draw the black oily ether from which caverns and flora grow but it is hard, my gut is distracting me, it droops to the floor and causes my face to get lowered to the drawing, wherein the drool puddles form on the nice fine black lines. But anyway. It adds atmosphere.
So. I am happy to read Reverend Jen on Artnet. I'll take her over Charlie Finch any day. I like her pink leotard, if only I had the gumption to wear one "on the ground" but happily for you I have no such gumption.
I am in need of narcotix. Anyone who has them please send them. I will do almost anything.
I am drawing and pretending I am in the caverns, shadowy and blackened like the catfishes.