Update

Betta concedes defeat. After an agonizing, traumatic night, have abandoned watercolors (thank god bought them at half price) in favour of much more forgiving color pencils. To the painters out there, I salute thee. (Esp. Newty and S.Cargo) At least my drawing skills (indifferent at best) revived after a few practice rounds, so all is not lost, and I need only feel a partial charlatan. Then again I have seen some performance art that rivals any painting in terms of pure aesthetics and poetry. That warms my insecure little artist heart in the dead of night.

I remember a knowing a false, manipulative and revengeful person who, in contrast to their character, was able to draw and paint wonderfully. Needless to say I was rather enamoured and maintained the acquaintance long after it was clear that I was suffering from it. It is a particular weakness of mine to associate professional skill with personal quality. Happily, in some cases the two happen to coincide.