2025-01-08
After a lot of consideration, and a lot of long talks with my fiancé, I think I’m going to change the trajectory of my personal project.
The end of the year always brings reflection. As we moved into the new one, I found myself thinking about what I actually want from this project, and how I’ve been approaching it. I only truly began working on it last May. At first, it was a sandbox. It was a place to play, explore characters, build a world, and follow whatever interested me. My initial plan was to go all-in on writing it as a novel.
But the more I sat with that idea, the more I realized something important: the way I naturally express myself has always been visual.
I won’t bore you with the details. My story with art is like a lot of other artists’ story. I liked drawing. I liked creating. When I was younger, I didn’t overthink it. I didn’t pressure myself. I just made things because I wanted to.
I went to art school intending to study animation. There were many reasons I left, but one of the biggest was that animation was a medium I simply could not grasp, no matter how hard I tried. At the time, I was young, insecure, and took that as proof that I had failed — not just at animation, but at art altogether. I stopped creating for a long time.
A lot of years were lost there. Years I could have been drawing, but instead spent depressed and trying to get my life back on track. When I did return to art, it was mostly as an escape — something safe and comforting. I didn’t want to disrupt that by trying to “improve,” because improvement meant pressure, comparison, and the possibility of failing again.
Only once my life stabilized did the desire to improve technically return.
Looking back now, I see that there was nothing wrong with me for not aligning with animation. It not being the right fit never meant I had to give up art entirely.
The truth is, this project only really works for me through a visual medium. Through a comic.
I’ve never completed a full comic. I made some as a child and a teenager, but never successfully. And I won’t lie. I’m terrified. I still don’t consider my art any good. That’s the curse of being a perfectionist. I’m constantly grinding fundamentals to make up for lost time. Color doesn’t come easily to me. Finished pieces take me a long time.
I also know a comic isn’t easy. It’s an incredibly difficult medium. It asks you to draw, compose, write, pace, emote, design, and persist. All at once.
But I think that’s exactly why it’s the right thing to aspire toward.
A comic will force me to confront all the things I struggle with: consistency, color, anatomy, environments, pacing, confidence, finishing. It won’t let me hide in sketches or fragments. It asks for commitment.
So I’m going to try. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s imperfect. Even if it’s slow. I want to try. Because this story deserves to exist in the way I know how to make things.
The end of the year always brings reflection. As we moved into the new one, I found myself thinking about what I actually want from this project, and how I’ve been approaching it. I only truly began working on it last May. At first, it was a sandbox. It was a place to play, explore characters, build a world, and follow whatever interested me. My initial plan was to go all-in on writing it as a novel.
But the more I sat with that idea, the more I realized something important: the way I naturally express myself has always been visual.
I won’t bore you with the details. My story with art is like a lot of other artists’ story. I liked drawing. I liked creating. When I was younger, I didn’t overthink it. I didn’t pressure myself. I just made things because I wanted to.
I went to art school intending to study animation. There were many reasons I left, but one of the biggest was that animation was a medium I simply could not grasp, no matter how hard I tried. At the time, I was young, insecure, and took that as proof that I had failed — not just at animation, but at art altogether. I stopped creating for a long time.
A lot of years were lost there. Years I could have been drawing, but instead spent depressed and trying to get my life back on track. When I did return to art, it was mostly as an escape — something safe and comforting. I didn’t want to disrupt that by trying to “improve,” because improvement meant pressure, comparison, and the possibility of failing again.
Only once my life stabilized did the desire to improve technically return.
Looking back now, I see that there was nothing wrong with me for not aligning with animation. It not being the right fit never meant I had to give up art entirely.
The truth is, this project only really works for me through a visual medium. Through a comic.
I’ve never completed a full comic. I made some as a child and a teenager, but never successfully. And I won’t lie. I’m terrified. I still don’t consider my art any good. That’s the curse of being a perfectionist. I’m constantly grinding fundamentals to make up for lost time. Color doesn’t come easily to me. Finished pieces take me a long time.
I also know a comic isn’t easy. It’s an incredibly difficult medium. It asks you to draw, compose, write, pace, emote, design, and persist. All at once.
But I think that’s exactly why it’s the right thing to aspire toward.
A comic will force me to confront all the things I struggle with: consistency, color, anatomy, environments, pacing, confidence, finishing. It won’t let me hide in sketches or fragments. It asks for commitment.
So I’m going to try. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s imperfect. Even if it’s slow. I want to try. Because this story deserves to exist in the way I know how to make things.