There is something very exciting about watching a painting progress. After weeks of fretting and stressing over this project I feel like I'm finally getting it.
I feel like these paintings are slowly involving into something else. They're not only about my childhood spent at a restaurant in rural Carroll County nor just the fairytales I used to pour over inside the dingy closet at the back of the room. Something about these pieces frightens me, but I don't know what it is.
Some close up shots, and a sketch or two...
Look at how creepy these sketches are! Maybe it's a foreshadowing of my forthcoming doom.
Juuuust kidding, but really... are my paintings taking on a sinister feel? Or is that just me?
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