last weekend i briefly visited home to do many unimportant things including documenting my old sketchbooks. it was quite an experience, the same way mothers would probably feel when they revisited their old disco days from yellowing photos. blood was an underlying theme in many of my sketches, apparently, as was being child-like and nearly innocent (i’m uncomfortable using this word, actually. it just sounds… iffy.) anyway these were from my i-want-to-move-to-bandung-and-be-a-starving-artist phase, before i completely thought through what being starving meant, which is pretty useless now because i’m still starving anyway.
a brief, thoughtless selection of my old work (2001 - 2005):