Where I am, now

I'm ever learning.

There are days of certainty that end up with quivering outlines. Hours of intricate patterns seemingly lost twenty minutes in. Where is this going? Oh, oh! I see it. My trust in the stencil was worthwhile! Then I breathe a sigh of relief moments before I get lost again at sea.

Sometimes I take a leap and try to vary my sense of outline. Think staccato, but make sure the depth is right. The recipient is bound to the duty of liking the final product. He or she has to like it; it's going to be with them for years. But those around wonder visibly with eyebrow concern and back of the shop comments: "Yeah, David, I struggle on that spot of the arm as well."

Wait, what?

An hour later I'll feel burned out then blend colors into creamsicle goodness. All smooth and orange. Then I'll purposefully make a mental note: remember how you did that. Do it again and do it better. Do it better. And maybe I will, and then often I feel as if I just reverted back to day one.

It's overwhelming at times. But, when it's all said and done, my attitude and desire seem to effect the final outcome more than anything else. It's like training a dog. If you ask him to come, or to perform, he'll do as he wishes. But if that dog senses true confidence... a command built upon reverential fear, he'll square those shoulders and make certain to do as you wish.

When I know and approach without worry, my final product always turns out better. It isn't me being cocky. It's me respecting the vision that lingers in my head as I hone my skill with this medium.