This sketchbook project was like much of my art these days, full of good intention, but slim on actual work. Trite and cutsie doodles, grew into intuitive work. On the final day, with an awful cold, and unhappy, I ripped it apart and reworked it. After mailing, my son asked how I felt about it, and I answered, "Well, it isn't what I though it would be, but it's exactly as it was meant to be."
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