That time I tried to draw.

I’ve spent five years in total in art school at university and I still can’t fucking draw.

Whenever people find out I went to art school, their eyes get foggy and they thirstily glare at me saying “you must be such a good drawer!”
“… Sculpter?”
*sigh* “…No.”

To be fair, I pursued photography and film. Mostly so I could avoid doing any kind of medium that required a physical skill with my hands. Or face. Artists are weird.

I tried to do some doodling, hoping that my inner genius would finally reveal itself. So I thought about my dog, passion drives talents right? Right?!

tacodrawing “I’m here to haunt your dreams.”

Okay, so let’s just talk about this for a second. My dog legitimately has big ears, she’s a papillon. But not quite so big that she could crawl inside herself. I also have zero shading so this is an awful, fuzzy, two dimensional drawing that you would see in maybe, in the back of a fourth grader’s geology book. And one ear is dramatically bigger than the other. Is she listening for something? Getting sucked into a vacuum? We’ll never know. I tried to do that fuzzy thing that people often do when they draw (a pet hate of mine from primary school – if you can’t draw it right in one line, then why are we even friends?!) but instead it looks like my dear dog has been electrocuted, the emotions have vacated from her penned, little eyes.


A second effort at drawing, easily one of my most hated crafts of all, shows a bit more skill. Okay, maybe not skill, perhaps more intuition. Okay, fine. More lines. I drew in more lines. Are you happy now? Let me have this, fuck.

I looked over at the bed and saw my boyfriend sprawled out on it and decided that this was it, this was my time to draw!

This is basically how it went.

Okay, surprisingly not that bad. I managed to do, what I would call, an improved drawing regarding the pants region. Shockingly, I’m actually not talking about his wiener, but the shading or lines that are created on pants when they are moved around. I remember reading (or being told in class, whatever) once to “draw what you see, not what you know.” It’s why people always draw noses weirdly because they draw what they think a nose looks like, rather than the shades of colour and shadow they see on the face. I tried to incorporate this… At first.
After I was able to draw my arty looking pants, I tried to throw in some depth of field. Boom! How about them motherfuckin’ apples! Unfortunately, this is about where my average work ended and my terrible work began.

Instead of a studly looking portrait of my most handsome boyfriend, I ended up with what looked like Fred Flinstone melting off a wall, laughing manically after what is likely, some kind of post-homicidal euphoria.

terrydrawing Ladies.

In case it wasn’t bleedingly obvious, I started with the pants which look pretty damn good, as far as drawings from me go! Until you look at his mangled broken, backwards foot. Moving on up to the shirt, this is where I started to give up. I couldn’t work out how depth perception works on a shirt and gave him a concrete block chest instead. His arm is not casually hanging behind the bed, but instead looks like it has snapped backwards. As a result, his two dimensional face is split into manic hysteria, probably from adrenalin from all the broken body parts and his neck has just disappeared entirely, because perception.

I would be terrified if this was my actual boyfriend. I can’t tell if he looks like a douchebag or a homicidal, no necked, rubber man. Not that I have a preference.

It is sad that this is the best drawing I’ve ever done.

Now you fuckers know why I don’t draw.

Stay cussy,

P.S. I feel like I just didn’t need to explain why the paper says “phallecy.”


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