Things carted home in pockets.
It’s a habit.
It can’t be helped.
I think it started with crystal pebbles on the playground in kindergarten.
I’m 40 now and I still can’t pass a feather or a pretty rock or a leaf by.
Now you know.
*this piece is available as a print in my shop.
You know that feeling, when you look back at old photos and cringe a little?
Seriously now, what where you thinking with that hair do?
Or when you read an old high school letter and think, “heavens, was I really like that? ”
Tell me I’m not the only one.
Tell me that you know that feeling – it’s made up of two parts horror and one part, “oh sister, come here and let me hug you.”
That feeling happens a lot when I look back at old paintings and drawings.
Sometimes though, it’s another feeling altogether. One that says, “Hey, that’s not too shabby. I kind of dig that.” It’s maybe not the best. I’d do some things differently now, but it makes me smile because yeah, I actually kinda like that.
That’s how I felt when I ran into these little girls in the archive.
I drew them five or six years ago to use as blog buttons. This was back when I was just taking baby steps into sharing my little doodles with the big wide world of strangers. These are some of my very first attempts at digitizing and using Illustrator to color in something that I’d drawn. All in all, I still dig their little vintage-y, sassy selves.
Not too shabby, if I do say so.