all time and space

anonymous asked:

Hi, I'm a beginning artist and I want to start an art blog, but every time I make something good, I can't help but think that it's not good enough. Do you have any suggestions to help...?

T h er e i s no help

No joke, I don’t ever think what i do is good enough pass 10 mins of making them? You have to know this thing called the gap between skill and mind, which is basically your mind, with all the things you learnt and envision through observation etc and your skill(say, procedural memory, muscle memory to remember how to draw certain things smoother or draw longer lines in one go etc). That will prevent you from drawing whatever you envision like… you may not be able to sing as low or high out loud but you can imagine the note sang out? 

Accept that there’s a gap and accept that you have the space to improve all the time. With art as well there are infinite spaces to get better at, different branches for you to focus and to go on with. Accept that, and make your art blog an active record for your progress! There is seriously no loss.

Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.
Looking back, I can’t remember the truth. I blew everything out of proportion so I could feel the hurt and betrayal and write about it in vivid detail. It was my own method of torture. My own undoing; and I enjoyed every second of it.
—  c.j.n.