Recently I spent two weeks at uni again for a series of seminars, strange to be brought back to that place. It isn't what it used to be, a lot of my old friends and purpose friends are now missing because they moved on in time, and the department seems to disintegrate slowly... But sitting in a stuffy, artificially lit room with a voice reciting pharmaceutics-related monologue to me inspired me to hold some pencils for a while again. I know art is still a part of who I am, and I'm not just supposed to consume other's work. It's shameful how very, very little I make myself nowadays. I'm always aware that I ought to work on it, but it's hard to take the time for it when I could be doing some much less challenging, unimportant time wasting instead. Need to think about that some more.
One more thing, my last feature journal has been sitting here for over a year, so I think I displayed those artworks for long enough now













