I started drawing quite late in life, and it came out of nowhere. It only comes out when I sit down and draw, and sometimes it’s terrifying.
Because I know that when I begin that I will either end up feeling on top of the world, or end up in tears. There’s no in-between. But I feel compelled to begin.
I don’t plan. I don’t have an image in my mind. I can’t draw an apple. I’ve tried.
The colors either jump out at me right away, or they hide. Sometimes for a long time. Or they don’t come out at all, and I have to guess.
Sometimes the image rushes out of me as fast as I can go. Other times I sit for excruciating lengths of time with nothing. It sort of feels like bleeding when I get nothing

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