Growing up, there were plenty of times I was pretty sure I was insane. I was utterly convinced that some of the things that went through my head could have never possibly passed through the head of a sane person. I had a lot of panic attacks, existential conflict and struggled with severe depression. Somehow, as I got older, I learned deal with it. Now I’m sort of like an iced over pond that is smooth and serene but will occasionally, unexpectedly crack if the temperature changes a little. But I started thinking about how things looked in the worst moments, how my mind could transform even the most beautiful day into a world that looked surreal and horrific. This became the last thing I painted. Sometimes I look at kids and wonder how they are really seeing things. Maybe the older you get the more you train yourself not to see horror. Or maybe I'm still insane. Who knows. Someday when I have a kid, I guess I'll pay a lot of attention to how they draw the world.
