The jumbled mess of confused colours you see above might be my all time favourite drawing. It's titled "Rainbow", and I drew it when I was four. The fact that I have created this fills me with immense pride. This is better than every other drawing I've drawn, because this is utterly and completely unrecreatable. I couldn't come up with anything as wonderfully ironic however I tried. And I could never emulate the scratchy chaotic nature of the pencil strokes. I could never put my mind in the same place it was when I drew this.
The things I draw now are surely superior in a technical sense, but are they better? Who's to judge? What's important? There is no absolute truth, there are only subjective opinions and fabricated agreements. There is no universal standard and no calculable value for art.
But I didn't know any of this when I drew that rainbow. Maybe I didn't even know what a rainbow looked like, or perhaps I just couldn't find any other colours. Maybe I was fed up with the picture and decided to scrap it halfway. I don't know. But I do know this is unique among my art. All the other things I've done, I can create again, but this I can not.
I drew something and half finished it for this entry, but I decided that it was so much less interesting than "Regnbåge" that it didn't deserve to be in an entry. Finding inspiration is definitely and always the most difficult part in maintaining an art and philosophy (read:philosophical) blog.
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