Two days

Two days in the island where the bloodiest battles of our history was fought.

Two days in the island where Philippines took its last stand.

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It's every artist's dilemma: when the creative juices become sappy. Apparently it's happening to me right now. The wall behind me would evoke the wow factor visually but honestly, it won't intellectually. I'd claim I am too constrained in ideation when doodling, all I do is play it by ear after all. I need fresh ideas, cathartic output, an art that would move and not just some pretty visual play. Looking back at this work, I felt too kiddie and immature design-wise so I have to grow up. Nevertheless I can feel a gradual progress in me be it in dexterity or conceptualization and it's only a matter of time before I hit that eureka phrase and transcend my old bland style. So much for a rant to myself, as they say, work it like the rent's due tomorrow or today in my case.

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One of the things I rue about and probably would most likely to correct is my negligence on the importance of reading particularly during those wee hours I killed by merely existing and not doing anything of becoming. What's ironic is that I do find time to read even in my most tedious times where sheer attention should be more directed to academic stuff rather than leisure. Well I don't find time, I tenaciously MAKE time for it; train rides and precious time where I'm supposedly reviewing.
Reading is as sacred as drawing for me and books are the Holy Grail. Had I been born well-off, I would've invested on these tomes of wisdom. Right now I am very much in love with Haruki Murakami and Chuck Palanhiuk's works. I'm a sucker for twisted alternate realities as if they're a frontier in my plane of imagination waiting to be uncovered.

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Dusting off

I got the slightest urge to revisit this blog after getting sick of 4Chan issues on tumblr and I actually missed this platform. I can't think of anything to post but things anchored on Manny Pacquiao's fresh triumph awhile ago or school sucking the succulence in my once vibrant social life.

Something off topic: it's been past a year since I started doodling - one thing I never thought I'd be so engrossed and would eventually become one of the tracks I'd passionately tread. Been a year and I saw how I improved in this defacto form of "art". I doodled on paper, cups and even vinyl toys.

Most recent work of mine: a doodled Keds shoe

There's my 6th(?) doodled cup.

Reassessing myself, I think I did a tough job on this art considering that I have to do these things along with my never ending plates and school stuff. I think doodling has established me as another persona in the blogosphere. It's nice to hear people say "the doodle boy" or the guy who doodles. I got something more than I bargained for and that's having myself instated as an artist and not just a plain artisan; someone with identity.

So much for a semi-long post. I think I should motivate myself to write here more often; a ground where I could really blog.

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